I am adopted. My birth mother was
only sixteen when she had me and wasn't able to
take care of me. So my parents adopted me when I was 13 months old. Never once have I ever felt less
special because I wasn't really theirs. In fact I
felt more special. I was chosen. Here are a few
reflections I've found on adoption.

Not flesh of my flesh
Or bone of my bone
But still miraculously my own
Never forget for a single minute
You didn't grow under my heart
But in it.

IN THE GENES

A young woman named Mary gave birth to her first child,
and because her husband was on military duty, she
spent a couple weeks after the birth at the home of
her parents.

One day Mary mentioned that she was surprised the baby's
hair was reddish, when both she and her husband were
blonde.

"Well, Mary," said her mother, "you must remember, your
daddy's hair is red."

"But Mama," said Mary, "that doesn't make any difference
because I'm adopted."

With a little smile, Mama said the loveliest words that
her daughter had ever heard, "I always forget."


Legacy of an Adopted Child

Once there were two women who never knew each other.
One you do not remember, the other you call mother.
Two different lives shaped to make you one.
One became your guiding star. The other became your sun.
The first one gave you life, and the second taught you to live it.
The first gave you a need for love, the second was there to give it.
One gave you a nationality, the other gave you a name.
One gave you a talent, the other gave you aim.
One gave you emotions, the other calmed your fears.
One saw your first sweet smile, the other dried your tears.
One sought for you a home that she could not provide,
The other prayed for a child and her hope was not denied.
And now you ask me through your tears
The age old question, unanswered through the years.
Heredity or environment. Which are you the product of?
Neither, my darling. Neither. Just two different kinds of love.