The One Where I Make My Parents Tell Me Where Babies Come From

In my last few posts I've laid out the basic storyline of how Shane and I individually and cooperatively decided that we'd like to pursue adoption as a means of creating our family. In summary (this is an exercise for myself more than a reminder for you): I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for my own family and a compassion for others who didn't have an opportunity to experience such fulfilling family relationships. For Shane, although the initial idea of adoption came as a suggestion from me, the birth of our son awakened a compassion in him for children whose needs are going unmet, and it also created an awareness that his capacity for unconditional love could be freely shared with a child that was not blood-related to him.

Part of the backdrop for these realizations on our part, however, is that I've known several family members and friends who have adopted children in one form or another, and I think our exposure to these relationships helped to make adoption seem like a more accessible concept for our family. As with almost anything, having the opportunity to see it done - and in these instances done well - allows an observer the chance to imagine themselves in that situation. I really believe that our exposure to these adoption stories is what created a fertile planting ground for our "seed of desire" and "seed of curiosity" regarding adopting a child of our own.

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The first adoption relationship that I was aware of is actually that of my father and his mother. My biological paternal grandmother died in childbirth with my father, her firstborn. Her widower, my grandpa, remarried 18 months later and his new wife took on the task of raising my father as her own, in addition to bearing 3 more children. Although this isn't really adoption in the way that most people think of adoption, there is no getting around the fact that my dad is in no way biologically related to his mother. But let me tell you, that woman is his mom, dammit. And I mean that in the best way possible.

The second adoption relationship that came onto my radar is that of my cousin, Sam, who was adopted from Korea as an infant. I was 6 years old when Sam was adopted, and it is one of my first memories of being a flat-out brat. One night as my parents were tucking me in, they sat on the edge of my bed and told me that they had great news to share with me. After years of trying to have a baby, my aunt and uncle were going to adopt a baby from Korea and he would be here very soon. I'm not exactly sure how at this point in time I knew how babies are made, but I did. I mean, I'm sure I didn't know all of the details, but I knew that it involved the phrase "when a mommy and a daddy love each very much," private parts, and Madonna music. But do you know what I did upon hearing this wonderful family news? I played dumb and asked my parents how someone "tries" to have a baby. Just to watch them squirm. What. A. Brat.

Anyways, my own brattiness aside, Sam's adoption was received as a joyous occasion amongst our family and aside from that initial announcement I can't recall any instance from my childhood in which the fact that he was adopted was even a second thought. He is just another cousin at the kid table, and I mean that in the best way possible.

The third adoption story that I was aware of is that of my mom's friend who adopted 2 children from Ethiopia after genetic testing revealed that she was a carrier for a terminal disease. I was 12 when she traveled to Ethiopia to pick up her 6 month old son after a lengthly legal process. I still remember his chubby brown face amongst a sea of adoring white people on his first birthday - the classic cupcake-on-the-highchair-tray scene playing out in exactly the same fashion as it does in millions of families all across America. And now, 18 years later, that seems only fitting because they are a quintessential American family, and I mean that in the best way possible.

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In my adult years I encountered more acquaintances and friends-of-friends who had adoption stories of their own, but the above three stories are what really shaped my personal view of adoption as just another way to have children. I saw families have children through their own pregnancies, and in these cases I saw families have children through adoption, and from my perspective they all just looked like families.

And being a family is what this whole thing is about.