You and I have very different experiences of adoption, it would seem.
I grew up in a warm, loving home, with two parents who wanted me very much. It made me feel all the more secure to know that there were two people, a couple, who had gone out of their way to get me. I knew I was wanted. I knew that there was no chance of my being an accident.
I knew a few other adopted children when I was growing up, and none of them seemed to feel this anxiety and hurt and anger that you're describing.
The way my mother explained it to me when I was little, so that I would understand, was that my biological parents couldn't keep me, that they understood that they weren't in a good position to raise a baby and then a child, and so they made the ultimate sacrifice by giving me to people who would love me and treat me well.
I've often wondered about my biological parents, but only in a vague, off-handed way. When people used to ask me about my "real" parents, I would smile and ask if they wanted to meet them, as they'd be picking me up right after school. :)
People don't ask about my "real" parents anymore. I know who my "real" parents are, and they're not the ones who technically gave me life.
And adopted children, by definition, don't go into foster homes. They are adopted into a new family. There are many, many foster children who stay in the system for years, and that's where the system fails them, because they have no stability, no security, and no continuous source of love and support.
It's also much harder for children who were adopted late, and were bounced around from foster home to foster home before being adopted. I was adopted when I was four months old, and being very young makes it a lot easier. I have never known anywhere but the home my parents provided for me.
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I grew up in a warm, loving home, with two parents who wanted me very much. It made me feel all the more secure to know that there were two people, a couple, who had gone out of their way to get me. I knew I was wanted. I knew that there was no chance of my being an accident.
I knew a few other adopted children when I was growing up, and none of them seemed to feel this anxiety and hurt and anger that you're describing.
The way my mother explained it to me when I was little, so that I would understand, was that my biological parents couldn't keep me, that they understood that they weren't in a good position to raise a baby and then a child, and so they made the ultimate sacrifice by giving me to people who would love me and treat me well.
I've often wondered about my biological parents, but only in a vague, off-handed way. When people used to ask me about my "real" parents, I would smile and ask if they wanted to meet them, as they'd be picking me up right after school. :)
People don't ask about my "real" parents anymore. I know who my "real" parents are, and they're not the ones who technically gave me life.
And adopted children, by definition, don't go into foster homes. They are adopted into a new family. There are many, many foster children who stay in the system for years, and that's where the system fails them, because they have no stability, no security, and no continuous source of love and support.
It's also much harder for children who were adopted late, and were bounced around from foster home to foster home before being adopted. I was adopted when I was four months old, and being very young makes it a lot easier. I have never known anywhere but the home my parents provided for me.