Why people need to filter their thoughts before spewing their crap at me...

... 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.