Emotion sparked memory

It’s been an emotionally draining few weeks with all the new legislation being raced into law. It just seems so wrong, for so many reasons, reasons that will become excruciatingly real if any of the laws stand. There’s a reason doctors spoke up both pre and post Roe v. Wade, they witnessed the result when a woman could not obtain a safe, legal abortion and they had to try to save her life. But seeing as this is an adoption blog, that’s not the focus on this post.

The emotional fall-out if you’re an adoptee online right how can be overwhelming with these new laws. I can’t count the number of times I wanted to throw my coffee mug across the room at the sheer ignorance of the comments. But like a moth to a flame, I’d find myself reading them, hoping against hope people would listen, learn, or at least stop with the ignorance pouring out of their mouth that can be so triggering if you’re adopted.

If you’re wondering why this would be emotionally overwhelming; if you’re not adopted ask yourself how many times you’ve been asked if you’d rather have been aborted? Raise your hand if you have and leave a comment about the experience.

And the memes flooding twitter and facebook. Please, just say no and avoid the folly, or kindly explain that adoptees should never be used as a poster child for any cause, but especially not for this cause. Adoptive parents today are supposed to be wiser than my era, sadly, many are the worst offenders in this area, do better.

Which all brings me around why I started this post, I’ve been thinking about my dad a lot lately, his birthday is coming up, but that’s not the only reason I’ve been thinking about dad, nor is it on how deeply he was impacted as a physician pre Roe v. Wade. It’s about a memory that popped up out of the blue in the mulling on dad and the above, a memory that isn’t about the above topic, it is about the never ending ways adoptees are othered by society, but this time it wasn’t othering, it was real, and it was a good thing. I remember walking into the kitchen one day when I was maybe 5 and seeing dad and his best friend and fellow physician leaning against the counter talking. I was always excited when he came to visit, he delivered me, he was special to me and would always make a point of taking the time to talk to me. This time, I remember at the end of our chat he looked at dad, and then back to me, and said; I was a very lucky girl. He spoke the truth, I was lucky to have his friend, my dad. as my dad. Sometimes it’s okay to be told you’re lucky and it means the same as when it’s said to a non-adopted person, simply, because it’s true.