Last Thursday...

I turned 33. What to say about 33, another year older, not particularly wiser. I am not sure when I thought that I would "feel" like a grown up. There are times when I do catch myself sounding like my mom or "mothering" others when I feel grown up. Most of the time, I feel like this is so funny that someone is trusting me with a house with a mortgage... anyone else with me on that? I taught middle school for quite a few years, but now that I quit teaching, I find myself STILL wondering what I am going to be when I grow up... photographer, hair dresser, event planner, oooo - the new one - working for an adoption agency. I am sure there are many of us out there thinking, boy, I so would communicate with the PAParents more than they are with me, and so on. I also remember thinking how OLD 33 years was! Now I think, I am too young to have a 12 year old! :-)

Having my birthday certainly has made me think about my adoption more... no not Mario's adoption - MY adoption. I think of how it relates to this time in my life. How possibly had God not led me to my parents, had my birth mother not made the selfless choice she did, and my parents not raised me to be comfortable with the topic, maybe Jeff and I would not be choosing to adopt.

I feel like adoption chose me. I was born into it. Just like if your mom is a good cook, you learn to cook, I guess. I learned how to be adopted, love adoption, appreciate adoption. 33 years ago today, I was 5 days old and being given to a woman very much like me. She had one child (my brother Jack) biologically. She was physically not able to have more, but so longed for another child. There was another woman pregnant who made the selfless choice to allow my parents to raise me. Thank God.

I spent the day with my mom today. Not unlike hundreds of days that we have spent together before. We went running errands, shopping for little things and picking up paint swatches for Mario's room. I have had the bedding for a long time now, but today was the day I needed to think about it. My mom's opinion is whose I go for every time. My mom and dad are the best. I think that many of us think that our moms and dads are the best, but mine are - end of story. They chose me. They could have decided that one was enough, but they chose me. I don't think that I tell them that I appreciate them enough. I appreciate those little things like being able to call there 10 times a day and no one thinking that is weird, being able to say anything to them without judgement, being able to be myself around them, being able to yell & scream & cry & swear and still have them love me anyway, for the support they have given me to be a good mom, even when I thought I was surely a failure. I appreciate the time spent with them - even the little moments. I appreciate the life that they have given me.

I appreciate the acceptance that they have taught me to have regarding adoption, the ability to know that children do not have to be biological to be loved unconditionally, and that they have passed along the knowledge that there is always room for one more - at the dinner table or in your heart - to know that I, too, want to adopt.

I know this because they love me that way.
For that I am grateful.