Member-only story
I’m an Adoptee Without an Adoption Trauma Story
Not all adoptions cause trauma
I’ve seen many stories about adoption trauma shared on social media and other platforms. First, let me say that my story doesn’t apply to those adopted outside of infancy.
I have no problem understanding the trauma and hurt of those taken from a birth family, plopped into a strange home, and all that comes with stories of those adopted from the foster care system.
Where I struggle with understanding is those who were adopted at birth or in early infancy into safe and loving homes.
It’s not my place to deny anyone’s trauma, but I genuinely have a hard time relating to the feelings they so poignantly describe. I was adopted as a baby, and when I was eighteen, I learned that it was a familial adoption where someone I knew as my aunt was actually my birth mom.
Growing Up Loved
I always knew I was adopted. I think I knew that word before I could even understand what it meant — it was just something unique about me. After all, I was special. I had been chosen.
In my teen years, as rebellion took hold, I remember fantasizing about my “real” parents. I was sure they would understand me in a way my Mom and Dad could not. Somewhere deep down, I knew that was a lie I told myself in an effort to cope with the angst of adolescence.
After all, a genetic connection wasn’t going to change the fact that my parents had known and loved me my entire life. They were the ones who worked and sacrificed, so I would have the things I needed. They did the sleepless nights as an infant, the exhaustion of chasing a toddler, the million questions of a preschooler, and everything else that comes as a part of parenting. At least one of them was there for every sporting event, and my Mom often proved that she knew me better than I knew myself.
My parents were not perfect, and my childhood wasn’t idyllic. There were struggles with money, and my mom’s health started to decline when I was in middle school.
She died when I was 20 after a long battle with cancer. But I also grew up in a family that loved me, and my basic needs were always met. We laughed together, we took inexpensive…
