Blog Category: Adoption

Adoption is complicated. I know that many believe the opposite but often those opinions are formed without ever talking to the person adoption affects the most: The Adoptee. 

I never realized how many of the wounds I carried had been inflicted by my adoption. I just assumed that most people had trouble looking others in the eye, or felt like they had to walk on eggshells so they didn’t get abandoned again, or kept everyone at an emotional distance so they wouldn’t get hurt. 

It wasn’t until...

I am not an adoptee that hates adoption. I love my adoptive family and have always been grateful to be a part of my family. By all accounts, my parents did everything right. They were always honest with me about my adoption, where I came from, and what little they knew. My mom even went so far as to create a bridge for me between her and my biological mother so that I would have at least that connection to my history. I feel very blessed to have grown up in such a loving environment. 

That being said...

Hi, my name is Meggan, and I’m a transracial adoptee. I picture myself seated in a circle in with other adoptees as I type that. 

“Hi Meggan.” They’d respond and then I would share my story of heartache and sorrow to the only group of people who will ever truly understand. The truth is though, that kind of support doesn’t exist for adoptees yet, but it should. 

I am half white and half black and back in 1982 that made me undesirable...

You know those adoption announcements made by adoptive parents celebrating their adoptive child’s homecoming? Most adoptees can’t stand them. It’s hard for an adoptee to watch these parents celebrate this baby coming to live with them when we know the truth. 

My precious friend Stacey Gagnon is an adoptive and foster mom and she captured the broken truth of adoption so beautifully in a recent Facebook post that I asked if I could share it and she said yes. So if you’re wondering how it really is and why adoptees dislike it when people celebrate the baby without acknowledging the trauma ~ here you go...

When I was ten years old I attended a summer camp at a new school. The very first day I became friends with a few girls; most of them were white and another was black. I was thrilled to make new friends on my first day and I remember going back the next day full of excitement. 

I ran up to my group of friends and failed to notice the changed vibe. The leader of the group turned to me and said...