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National Adoption Awareness Month- Guest Post

November 12, 2012

Angela is a dear friend of mine. I was blessed to be her adoption consultant, as well as her colleague.We worked together as adoption professionals for 3 years. Her genuine heart adoption will need no further explanation after you read her story. 

“My name is Angela. I was adopted at age 8 by my grandparents. Some people in the adoption community hear that and say “Oh, that wasn’t like real adoption since they were family.” I’m here to tell you it was, maybe harder. How many people do you know who can say their dad is their brother and that person picking them up from school is their Grandma, no wait, Mom, no, umm.

Angela with her Birth Family

It was confusing and hard and carried with it all of the rejection and hurt that adoptees tend to experience at some point in their lives. When I was adopted I was the only adopted person I knew and my parents rarely talked about it or the other half of my birth family. Openness was pretty much non-existent and kids were just expected to stuff those feelings and desires to know where they come from down until they were adults and could seek the answers for themselves.

Angela with her Adoptive Family

Reading that you may think I had a horrible adoption experience, but I didn’t.  It was hard, but made me who I am today. Let me explain. I am also a birth mama and an adoptive mama. When I found myself pregnant at barely eighteen, and in a life situation not conducive to raising a son, my mind turned to adoption. I immediately realized that, like my birth mom before me, I was too young to raise a child. I wanted my son to have a two-parent home, to have the opportunities I could never give him. So I made an adoption plan, all the while remembering the love and stability I was given when I was adopted.

Angela’s Birth Son, 16 years ago

I remembered all the lessons my adoptive parents instilled into me, lessons born out of their long lives and experiences raising their children before me. I tried to imagine what I may have been like if I had stayed with my birth mom. Remember, I knew her until I was eight and visited her every other weekend. I knew many of the mistakes she made in parenting me that led to my adoption and I was thankful to have been raised by my adoptive parents. Thankful because I liked who I was, despite the poor decisions I had made recently. And so I chose adoption because I knew adoption.

Seventeen years later a little boy joined my family via adoption. It is rather eerie how his story parallels mine in some ways. You see, we thought the Lord would give us an infant and that is how we prepared. Then we got the call and the little boy was 18 months old. So, like me, he came to his adoptive family with memories and knowledge of his birth family. Add to that his birthday is a mere two weeks earlier than my birth son’s birthday. In the first months, my sweet boy raged against us in his confusion and frustration. The more I prayed, the more the Lord showed me why he behaved this way or that. He related it to my own adoption story and the insecurities I felt, first as a foster child bouncing between my grandparents, birth mom and birth dad, and then as an adoptee.”

Angela and her Family today.

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