My Mom was recently watching an episode of Oprah when Marie Osmond was on and talking about her son who had committed suicide. She sang a touching song that she had to try really hard and keep her composure through. She stopped and starting over, attempting to hold back her tears. A bunch of photos of him were shown as she sang. She also talked about it with Oprah. The thing that struck my mother was that, not once, did Marie say “My adopted son”. She always said “My son”, which is the way Marie, Mom and I, feel it should be.
Every March when my brother sister and I were younger we would have a party. Nothing too fancy, just a small present each. Our birthdays were in September and October. I vaguely remember it each year. I didn't really understand what it was for until it ceased to be. It was because we were all adopted from Colombia by our parents as children. I was only an infant when they went and got me. My brother and sister are biologically alike, each having the same mother and father. I came along a couple years later. I was more of the luckier one, although I do not feel like revealing the details of just how much at this time.
My siblings and I all have no doubt that our parents love us, although it cannot be said for sure which set did so more. In fact, it is impossible to judge that love on any scale. While one set had the courage to give us up, the other had the courage to take us in. There was obviously a lot of love on both sides of the equation. I know this not by experience, but because having, then giving a child away for a chance at something better is nothing to take lightly; while taking one in is one in the same.
As children, none of us had any say on the issue. We accepted it because we had to. I do not mean this in a bad way. We all turned out fine and I’m sure it was the best thing that could have happened to any of us. I myself could not imagine what life would have been like had I stayed in Colombia. I cannot say it would have been bad or good, just different.
More recently my Mom has discussed whether or not if we, individually, wanted to find out birth parents, should the still be alive. I was for it, along with my sister. My brother is totally against it for some reason.
Mom asked me how I would feel if my biological parents were either against meeting me or told me that they did not love me, and that is the reason they decided to give me up. I gave her my response;
“I would be fine with them if they liked me and just the same if they did not. Either way, I have you and Dad already. That is all I could ever ask for”.
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