I’m not an adopter. I’m a parent.
My kids are my kids. Not my adopted kids.
My kids are real siblings.
Our adoptions were ethical.
We love our children’s birth families. We visit them. We honor them…
And we respect their decisions. And no one else can tell them or us that what they chose to do was wrong or right. No one else knows the circumstances of the situations. Nor should they.
We celebrate adoption in our household. The adoptions of our children, the family tree becoming an orchard. We recognize the joy and the pain, the ups and downs. We cry and mourn and laugh and dance.
We are honest and empathetic with our children.
We are not saviors, villains, heroes.
We are a real family.
We are always learning and evolving.
We are honored to be our children’s parents.
Adoption is bittersweet and complex.
Our children…well, our cups runneth over.
They are an intricate, beautiful blend of nature and nurture.
They are loved and wanted. They always have been.
They are going to grow up and do great things, because they have the love, encouragement, and support of two families who love them each dearly.