Confessions of an Adoptive Mom
Greg and I were talking the other day about being adoptive parents. It really isn’t something I think about all that often. I am just a mom with no extra adjectives. Every once in awhile I am reminded that I am a mom of the adoptive variety.
The conversation started when I mentioned how odd I find it when people tell me how cute Marcus is or they look at pictures of William and tell me how cute he is. What is my proper response? Thanks? It isn’t like I had anything to do with how they look. Those aren’t my genes. It isn’t like I picked them out of a book of babies and selected them based on their cuteness, therefore indicating good taste on my part. It is even an odd thing to have to respond to – I would imagine – for parents of biological parents. Sure, I can see how maybe it is a compliment to the parent since a bio child is genetically half of them, but unless they used some sort of new genetic procedure that I am not aware of, it isn’t like the parent got to pick which half of their genes their child got.
This all led to an even more interesting confession of my own. Thankfully Greg understood and wasn’t offended when I confessed that I prefer to go out in public with Marcus alone, not with Greg around. When Marcus first came home it was all so new and I am sure I was slightly paranoid, but I swear I saw people staring at us. I recall one lady even doing a double take. Were they just looking at the baby because everyone loves a baby? Or were they looking at the differences in skin tone, hair color, and eye shape? I will never know. I don’t notice people staring anymore, mostly because I am lost in my own world of mommyhood bliss and could really care less if they do stare.
Things are different though when we go out as a family. I feel like an advertisement for international adoption. When I am alone in public (can a person really be alone in public? I guess I’ll have to philosophize that one later) with Marcus, there is an element of doubt. Most people probably take one look at him and one look at me and reach the conclusion that our bond was formed by adoption. They just don’t really know though. Greg isn’t there. They don’t know what he looks like. Maybe my spouse is Hispanic. Maybe Marcus looks like my spouse.
The doubt is removed when the three of us are together. Blue eyes, green eyes, brown eyes. Brown hair, dirty blond hair, black hair. I feel people looking at us more. I feel like we are more of a target for those rude comments of the world that I have yet to hear firsthand but have heard as a possibility multiple times. I feel like people look at us and label us as an adoptive family, not just a family with no extra adjectives. I feel like a plain old adjective-less family so why do we have to look otherwise?
I am proud to be an adoptive mom. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Sometimes being on display puts me right back in high school when all I wanted was to be like everyone else but knowing that being different was much more special. Mostly though, I just love being mysterious. I love when people look and just can’t quite figure out what is going on with me. I guess I just better start insisting that Greg stays home.
The conversation started when I mentioned how odd I find it when people tell me how cute Marcus is or they look at pictures of William and tell me how cute he is. What is my proper response? Thanks? It isn’t like I had anything to do with how they look. Those aren’t my genes. It isn’t like I picked them out of a book of babies and selected them based on their cuteness, therefore indicating good taste on my part. It is even an odd thing to have to respond to – I would imagine – for parents of biological parents. Sure, I can see how maybe it is a compliment to the parent since a bio child is genetically half of them, but unless they used some sort of new genetic procedure that I am not aware of, it isn’t like the parent got to pick which half of their genes their child got.
This all led to an even more interesting confession of my own. Thankfully Greg understood and wasn’t offended when I confessed that I prefer to go out in public with Marcus alone, not with Greg around. When Marcus first came home it was all so new and I am sure I was slightly paranoid, but I swear I saw people staring at us. I recall one lady even doing a double take. Were they just looking at the baby because everyone loves a baby? Or were they looking at the differences in skin tone, hair color, and eye shape? I will never know. I don’t notice people staring anymore, mostly because I am lost in my own world of mommyhood bliss and could really care less if they do stare.
Things are different though when we go out as a family. I feel like an advertisement for international adoption. When I am alone in public (can a person really be alone in public? I guess I’ll have to philosophize that one later) with Marcus, there is an element of doubt. Most people probably take one look at him and one look at me and reach the conclusion that our bond was formed by adoption. They just don’t really know though. Greg isn’t there. They don’t know what he looks like. Maybe my spouse is Hispanic. Maybe Marcus looks like my spouse.
The doubt is removed when the three of us are together. Blue eyes, green eyes, brown eyes. Brown hair, dirty blond hair, black hair. I feel people looking at us more. I feel like we are more of a target for those rude comments of the world that I have yet to hear firsthand but have heard as a possibility multiple times. I feel like people look at us and label us as an adoptive family, not just a family with no extra adjectives. I feel like a plain old adjective-less family so why do we have to look otherwise?
I am proud to be an adoptive mom. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Sometimes being on display puts me right back in high school when all I wanted was to be like everyone else but knowing that being different was much more special. Mostly though, I just love being mysterious. I love when people look and just can’t quite figure out what is going on with me. I guess I just better start insisting that Greg stays home.
posted by Annie and Greg @ 8:41 AM
1 comments
1 Comments:
Interesting to think about. I am adopted, parents both have blue eyes, and mine brown.. people who KNEW my parents adopted me would say that I "looked" just like my dad or mom in order to legitimize my existance. I always found that weird. I will see how it is when I get Mo home with my blond haired, green eyed daughter! lol!
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