Fun fact.
Both of my birth parents were born on 6 June.
I found that tidbit out while I was searching for my biological families a few years ago.
OH yeah, Hi there, I’m Jen… and I’m adopted.
That word, adopted, it’s a bit polarizing for me. If I really give it thought.
I suppose it could mean to be chosen or accepted.
But I’m not here to scurry the depths of my pretty little mind.
I’m not going to write a dissertation on being adopted, although it could make for an interesting topic.
Today is just another day, but a day that I know my birth parents shared.
Usually when people hear that I’m adopted, there’s questions.
The one question I would always have to correct was, “Do you know your real parents?”
My response has always been, “My “real parents” raised me. They’re my mom and dad.”
They chose to take me in and provide and care for me. Raised me with love and for that I’m thankful.
Honestly, I am.
For a great long while, I had no answers about the WHO, but a few years ago, after much sleuthing, I found a few answers. It took more than a few years to finally find out their names, to trace so many dead ends and long lost people, but eventually I located both biological parents… first the donor and then the incubator.
They were never anything directly connected to me, other than procreating and giving me up.
That’s not harsh, just the truth.
It’s reality.
What I’m willing to share today, isn’t much.
I never met either of them.
Both are dead.
And so, on the 6th of June, I do give them each a moment of thought.
I say a silent thanks for giving up…
for giving ME up.
In the end, all the wrong turns led me to the right place.
My beginning was a wrong turn, but I like where I am.
I’m a wife, and a mom.
I’m loved.