Last week when I took Maria to the doctor, I was asked if we, meaning Jeremy or I, had a family history of asthma. I know what they wanted to know. Is there potentially a genetic component to her breathing issues? I could have simply answered yes, my brother has asthma and went on. But, I reminded them that Grant and Maria were adopted and we had limited medical information on the genetic family. I did say that their medical history did not indicate any asthma, but also stated that they live in Massachusetts and if they lived in Louisville, they very well could be asthmatic as we are the allergy capital of the universe.
This got my wheels turning again about the way our family was built and how that defines me. What we did is not main stream. I encounter people on a regular basis who have never heard of embryo adoption and think it’s weird…why would you not have “your own”, meaning genetic children, as if genetics is the only way to be defined as a mother. So here are my thoughts on who I am.
I am both a birth mom and an adoptive mom – to the same children at the same time.
I am a biological mom. Yes, you read correctly. My body, my blood – my biology sustained them in my womb. They may not have my eyes or Jeremy’s curls, but they are, in some ways, of my biology.
I am normal, but I’m different. I can share in the conversations of pregnancy, but my children are not from me, but at the same time, they are.
I am a mom, but I became one in an extraordinary way. There are only a small group of others who can claim this method of motherhood. I experienced the sickness, aches, anticipation and joys of pregnancy and the fear, anxiety, and hope of adoption.
I am a mom. I wouldn’t have it any other way.