This little girl will soon be on her way to a new home; she has just been adopted. Already, at just a few months of age, she feels somewhat detached from those around her. There are feelings of loss and grief that she can’t quite identify, but she knows that there is something, or someone, missing from her life.
She will grow to love her new mommy and daddy very much, but the experience of loss and grief will never quite be far from her. She will lose these new parents far too soon, and once again find herself disconnected.
This little girl will eventually give birth to children of her own and finally experience the wonder of seeing another person who shares the same genes. She will love those children infinitely strongly, and will learn much from the experience of being a mother.
She will eventually find her first family – the family who chose not to keep her. In some ways it will be too late, as the parents who’s genes she shares will have since passed away. In other ways, she is thankful for the way that it turned out because the emotions of meeting them may have been too much. She is thankful for others in that birth family – sisters, brothers, aunts, and others – who welcomed her for a season.
This little girl is me. Obviously I don’t know what, if any, thoughts were churning around in my head when I was born and then adopted four months later, but the sense of detachment is something that has been real all of my life. I have come to think that it started back then.