My Life Story Of Adoption

Every story has the same three items; a beginning, a middle, and an end. Anyone who has ever read a book would tell you that you are crazy to start at chapter three, you miss the how the story was established, the history, opening to the plot, introduction to key characters but that is what it means to be adopted. Those first few chapters are missing The reason I believe that people say my life story is because life has those same three requirements we just call them different things, birth. living, and death. When you are adopted your life doesn’t start at the beginning but rather somewhere after key events and for some people, where so many of us talk about how much a baby weighed, who visited him at the hospital, what time they were born …show more content…
I bet I could tell you the story of my birth word for word as my parents retell it every time. How long my mother was in labor, how they had to nudge her into actually pushing because she was more focused on beating my dad at Rummy 500 then actually caring if contractions hurt. I can tell you what my dad felt when he had his very own baby girl, and how my brother ran down the hall at 18 months old looking for his baby. These are memories that I get to share in with my parents and hear retold over and over again. To see the joy in their eyes when they relive those first moments when I breathed. My Grandmother gets the same look in her eye when she tells the story of visiting my father for the first time in the orphanage, how his little face stole her heart in an instant and that she knew right away he was meant for her because of his red hair, which she always followed up with a smirk and glare while saying “his hair turned almost black six months after bringing him home.” My father was an instant Mama’s boy at two months old, I can just imagine how Grandma, who so wanted a child, rocked her first baby and looked at him while falling in love and my father as a baby looking back at her in a secure home for the first time in his tiny two months of life.I am sentimental and a little over zealous that way, though. The start of his “living” part of the story is beautiful and I am so thankful for that. Two people …show more content…
I bet I could tell you the story of my birth word for word as my parents retell it every time. How long my mother was in labor, how they had to nudge her into actually pushing because she was more focused on beating my dad at Rummy 500 then actually caring if contractions hurt. I can tell you what my dad felt when he had his very own baby girl, and how my brother ran down the hall at 18 months old looking for his baby. These are memories that I get to share in with my parents and hear retold over and over again. To see the joy in their eyes when they relive those first moments when I breathed. My Grandmother gets the same look in her eye when she tells the story of visiting my father for the first time in the orphanage, how his little face stole her heart in an instant and that she knew right away he was meant for her because of his red hair, which she always followed up with a smirk and glare while saying “his hair turned almost black six months after bringing him home.” My father was an instant Mama’s boy at two months old, I can just imagine how Grandma, who so wanted a child, rocked her first baby and looked at him while falling in love and my father as a baby looking back at her in a secure home for the first time in his tiny two months of life.I am sentimental and a little over zealous that way though. The start of his “living” part of the story is beautiful and I am so thankful for that. Two people