... because I'll just blog about you after your done.
I will fully admit I'm not good at small talk. It is not a talent of mine. Or even a usable skill. But when I am forced into a situation where silence can even be more awkward than my lack of conversation skills, I soldier on.
This was the situation today, with a lady I will call 'Small-talk Stranger'. The topic somehow turned to children, which turned to my child, and I thought - oh yeah! This just happens to be my very favorite subject! I can do this! So yada-yada-yada... Tes is really looking forward to attending school... blah-blah-blah... my daughter is a picky eater, too!... on and on, until a picture was produced from my purse and shown to her.
Small-talk Stranger : Oh! She is adopted?
Me : Yes, she is Ethiopian -
Small-talk Stranger : - wow... I just can't imagine loving a stranger like they are family!
Oh dear.
Number one - Keep your damn ignorance to yourself. Number two - Apparently this must mean she is a kin to her husband, because how could you possibly love a stranger.
It goes on.
Me : *stunned silence, and probably a very angered and bewildered look on my face*
Small-talk Stranger : I mean, I just can't believe you've never gotten to experience the miracle of childbirth... I feel so bad for women like you.
No, I didn't punch her. But it was only my deep-down staunch belief that violence doesn't solve anything that kept me from it. And believe me, I momentarily wavered.
So let me clear the air a bit, in case there is anyone out there, like Small-talk Stranger, who feels sorry for 'women like me'.
Don't.
I assure you, yes, I love my daughter. Being adopted does not make her a second class child. It makes her - my daughter. S-t Stranger is lucky I never caught her real name, because I would totally be tempted to search out her phone number and post it so all you 'stranger lovers' such as I, an adoptive parent, or you loving step-parents, or you dedicated foster parents - all you out there who apparently have the unbelievable skill to love strangers, could give her a call and let her know what love really is. And it ain't just genetics, baby.
Secondly, you are correct, I didn't get to experience the miracle of childbirth. And I do actually agree, it is a miracle. (After all, I was born, wasn't I?) However, even though I didn't experience it, my child is still a miracle, a miracle her Mother got to experience. I don't regret that for one moment, nor the two years they were able to spend together - because it would be dismissive to her experience, and to my daughter. There are, of course, things I wonder about. Did she have a lot of hair when she was born? Was she a happy baby? When was her first smile? First steps? Which tooth came in first?
Things I wonder? Yes. Things I regret? Not for a moment.
I would never selfishly wish away those two years my daughter and her Mother were able to spend together, not for a moment. Yes, she got to experience the miracle of birth. Saw the first step, smile, and heard the first word.
But I got to experience the miracle of adoption. Saw her first smile at me. Got to hear the first time she told me "I love you". I get to wake up each morning to her sleepy, smiley face, and end each evening with her 'big hugs!' and lots of kisses.
Don't feel sorry for me. I am a blessed woman, indeed.
I'm sorry you can't see that, S-t Stranger.
It must be a very small world you live in.
Peace.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Fantastic post! What an ignorant person (that is the most pc I can come up with right now). That really beats my, does he call you mommy, comment I got the other day. I was like DUH! What else would he call me? Lyn-Dee We are so lucky to be blessed with these wonderful children.
ReplyDeleteI want to comment. I really. Really. DO!. I am at a loss at this moment. Stunned. I WILL be back...
ReplyDelete