Out of the bad comes good

I had an epiphany today. Let me first preface this by saying I've had a bit of wine. And beer. But the epiphany happened before the drinking began. It's only now that I've had a few, I'm thinking a little more "deeply" about it.

So in my previous post I wrote about how hysterically ridiculous my day was. Seriously, can all those things happen in one day? Oh yes they can. But I'm a big believer in "things happen for a reason."

So either, one: My day was horrible because I was sucking up all the badness in the world so my best friend (who bought her first house today!) could have an amazing day....

Or two: Maybe it was a Series of Unfortunate Events that happened to put me at my cousin's house today. On a day where she babysits for 2 small children (in addition to her own 3). One of the babies is adopted. He was a crack baby. For the first 6 months of his life he was going through withdrawal. He is now 8 months old. Perhaps a teeny bit behind developmentally (he still can't sit up), but he'll be caught up soon enough.

In between working I helped out with the little love - he was having a cranky day (so I was told). I plopped him on my lap and he giggled. I stuck him in front of the window so he could get a good view. He loved it. I sat him back down - he whined. I made funny faces at him and he laughed that amazing contagious laugh that all babies have. I know it's not all going to be adorable moments now matter the children we have - I'm not that far disillusioned. But it just hit me: do I really need to be pregnant? I don't need to carry a child to be connected to him/her....that's never been my issue with adoption. What matters in the end is this perfectly sweet (but sometimes cranky) beautiful child that's sitting on my lap exploring the world. It doesn't matter how they got there. It just matters that they're there.

So I guess the only question left is - If we do adopt - Am I strong enough as a person to survive the inevitable: "Who are my REAL parents?"

As much as I'd like to be that person that hears that question from their adopted child (in the thros of teenage agnst, no less) and charges forward unphased...not enough wine in the world can make me say that I am.

I've always thought I was "against" adoption. I have 3 siblings that were adopted - all of them with major learning disabilities, fetal alcohol syndrome and emotional disorders. I've always been scared of adoption for the simple fact that "you never know." I know I could love a child that wasn't mine biologically. But after watching my parents' marriage dissolve as a result of 3 children with disabilities (among other issues), I've been too scared to consider it as an option. Today made me realize that's not the reason. Of course I would be heartbroken if something was wrong with my child - but that could happen just as easily through an IVF baby.

What I'm scared of is my child turning 15 and wanting to know about their biological parents. Or my child in an argument yelling to me "You're not my mother!"

How do parents of adopted children face that? My hat goes off to all of them. I think today just made me realize - It's not the child I fear: It's myself.