This post will come as no surprise to other adoptive parents.  I’ve come to the conclusion that once you’re over the initial “holy-crap-we’re-adopting-a-baby” shock, the “adoptive” part of your title quickly and all-but-completely vanishes. 

Yes, the reality is and will always be that this child does not have a genetic link to our bodies.  It will always be a fact that this baby joined us by a method other than my own birth canal.  I’m not denying it for a second – I am an adoptive parent, but “adoptive” is an adjective – a descriptor just like protective, nurturing, doting, absentee or engaged.  I am a PARENT – a mother.  Full stop.

Adoption is not the only thing that defines our family, nor is it the first.  Adoption is a route or means by which a child arrives, but then it’s given a backseat, so to speak, to all of the other wonderful, magical, confusing, frustrating and exhausting components of being good parents and spouses at the same time. 

Our adopted child is every bit our “real” child, and we love her no less (or more) than we would a biologicial child. 

I understand it can be difficult for other people to understand all of the above, however, I have no idea why.   Perhaps – like so many other parts of life – you simply have to experience what we have to know the difference.

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