 By Liz DeBetta, Ph.D.
It’s the beginning of a new year. A new opportunity to go deeper with myself, with others, and learn more about the complexity of my experience as an adopted person. I am never not adopted. It’s a condition of my existence that will never not be true and it makes every relationship I am part of infinitely more complex. Including the ones I have with my family; with both my families.
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 By Shannon Quist
We have our little talks every two weeks or so, assuming one of us doesn’t cancel the meeting invite or move it to accommodate what is for both of us, a busy work schedule. We do our work in the background, sometimes, but most of the time we just talk. She needs it, I need it. Though she is much more than this, the easiest way I can introduce you to my friend is to say that she is a warm and spirited mentor to me and she is an adoptive mother to a former foster child. Her child and my own are a couple of years apart so we chat about them sometimes in that way, but when she needs to, I also allow her to pick my brain on my own childhood experiences because I am an adoptee. Like all adoption stories vary, mine differs from the one her child lives, but there are pieces that ring true for all of us despite those differences, and that’s what my friend usually looks for when she is struggling with something. Hopefully, you know by now that adoption is never easy and always complicated. We live it. And talking helps sometimes. One day, after I told her about my birth mother’s birthday and my weird mood, she asked me, tentatively, “Is there some small part of you that is thankful? Grateful?” And I let myself recoil then explained why I hated that question. But then, because she deserves my honesty, I continued on to answer it. I’m writing this now to share with you because it’s such a common question, but also because the only way to ask or answer this question is to be delicate. I don’t like being asked if I’m grateful. This question automatically centers the story on my adoptive parents. The inquiry is actually: Do you realize how much sacrifice and trouble your parents went to in order to bring you home and raise you? Are you thankful for the rescue? Are you grateful for the change in your situation (socioeconomically)? This question also glosses over the nuances and complexity of my situation and only inquires about the positivity that can be found in my adoption story. But you can’t have blooming flowers without rain. Finally, being asked about my gratefulness insinuates a “should” social standard and demands a performance of it. It says, “You should be grateful. Show me how you’re grateful.” But to answer the question, yes. I am grateful, but that’s not all I am. by Hannah Andrews
I grew up the youngest of three, but I’m really the oldest of two. I was the last child adopted in one family, as well as the firstborn and only surrendered child in the other. Or is it vice versa? I grew up with two brothers and recently met a third. I call my adoptive brothers my “brothers,” sometimes even my “real brothers,” and my biological half-brother I call my “half-brother.” Always with the half. Three of my four parents are deceased. I never met my first mother. I’m still looking for my biological father. My biological grandmother is 91 and refuses to acknowledge my existence. It’s complicated, but also, this is my normal. |
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