Lately I've found myself thinking a lot about family, about what it really means. It seems that we are surrounded my images of families, people who look and act similar, as if that is the standard we should all adhere to. I've seen the bumper stickers and pins that say 'love makes a family' and while I've thought that to be true, it also seems as if that were true, it wouldn't need to be on a bumper sticker. It's a hard concept to grasp in a society where so much emphasis is placed on 'real' parents and the blood connection that binds families, at least genetically. Have you ever noticed that every time someone is profiled in a magazine or newspaper, their adopted children are always listed as such? If love truly does make a family then why does it need to be pointed out? I look around my own family, which matches none of the posters and advertisements and I finally can see that love, not blood, is the glue which holds us together.

You see, I'm adopted. 6 months ago I searched for and found my birthmother, ending a lifelong quest for answers about my own history. Did I look like her? Talk like her? Did she have other children? Who was my birthfather? In other words, I knew where I was today, but I wanted to know where I came from. Not an unreasonable request, but it is a daunting task to search in a society hell-bent on keeping us apart forever with the closed records that record my earliest history being the line drawn in the sand which I cannot cross. Except, of course, that I did manage to cross that line and while records of my birth and the months prior to it will most likely always remain sealed, I have had the privilege of hearing the story and seeing photos from that lost time.

I've been lucky enough to meet many members of my birthfamily, seen my eyes and hair reflected in them, watched with fascination as they sat like me or made the same joke I was just about to make. Being surrounded by that degree of similarity gives me a great sense of comfort (and overwhelming confusion at times since I've never experienced anything like it) yet I can't imagine growing up surrounded by such obvious bonds, it seems so foreign to me. While I'm thoroughly intrigued by the multitude of similarities I've found throughout my birth family, I found that knowing about the similarities only gives me some answers and some peace but doesn't change anything about me.

I consider my status as an adopted person a unique gift, the gift to accept without question that families come in all shapes, sizes and colors. From the first day I met my mom, when I was 3 weeks old, I have only known love as the glue that holds us together. I think that glue also makes it easier for my parents to accept who I am, since it's always been something of a mystery to be unfolded as I grew into myself, a combination of both my families, birth and adoptive.

I've always wanted to be a mother, to have a family of my own. I used to believe that giving birth to a child would be the only way to fulfill that need for a genetic connection. I used to say that I could never adopt a child, that they deserved a sense of their own history, yet I no longer beleive that the two must exclude each other. Changing laws and the increasing openess between birth and adoptive families, make the sealed records of my birth a thing of the past. Before I had the answers that meeting my birth family has given me, this made sense. A brief glimpse into my past and my future, reassuring my unique place in the world. I have come to see that my family is a large amalgamation of people, different families and races, all of whom combine to give each other love and support. The one thing that we all have in common aside from breathing air is love.

My family was and will always be created by love and law, not exclusively by blood. When and if I go to have a child 'of my own,' it may well be the old fashioned way - at least in my family - by visiting the adoption agency and opening our hearts and our home to a child who needs us as much as we need them.