I’ve gone through three life altering moments in my life. By life altering I mean facing the thin veil between life and death feeling as though I could reach my hand out and touch it if I only extended my fingers ever so slightly.
The first was...
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My nine year old broke down the other night. Hearing about the new lockdown coming this week in our province, his sadness overtook him and he sobbed into his daddy’s arms. It was heartbreaking to watch. He misses his friends, his cousins, his grandparents. He’s lonely even though we’re a family of five and always together. And we’ve always homeschooled so it’s not like he’s missing his classmates. He is just super lonely.
I honestly am far more worried about...
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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...
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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...
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