December 2nd.

I was born at Kenndy Airport, on December 2nd, 1975.
I'm 42 years old... No, it's not a mistake, I was born at 9 years old.

It was my 2nd birth from my adoptive mother. The moment she saw me, she felt the same pain than any other woman giving birth.  It seems that other women have also felt the childbirth pain the moment they took their new babies in their arms.

I wonder how other adoptive parents talk about December 2nd, 1975. To speak of that day, my mother said "the day you arrived" or "the day we got you" but in practice, she spoke as if it was the day I was born. I had mixed feelings about that: knowing that she loved me as if she gave birth to me was a security and it made me feel good but at the same time, it made me feel uncomfortable. More I knew she loved me as her real child, more I was scared to be abandoned again.

I'm so lucky, I remember my birth and the following days after my birth as if it was yesterday. My next blog entry will be on those days...


"The day you arrived"

I don't mean to interrupt... ... but I found it very interesting that your day of arrival was treated like a very good thing.

I was told the date of my adoption.  I don't know if it was the same as the day I arrived in The States.  [Those could very well have been different dates.]  Either way, these were things not openly discussed by my "parents".  Perhaps they saw this last formality as being something akin to "labor pains".

I remember being told how difficult the traveling was; how desolate and depressing Newfoundland was.  I remember being told how glad they were to leave, and how horrible I was on the plane.

I remember lots of small details of that story, but not once was my adoption-day ever celebrated.

I never liked my birthday, and as I get older, I'm finding it easier and easier to explain why I hate that "special day".

Meanwhile I loved the birth of all 4 of my children.  I love remembering when the pains began and how I got through it.  My kids love to hear that "special story", and every year, I re-live it for them so they know how much I worked for them.

Some could see that as being a form of "Mother's Guilt".  I see it as a gift, since my kids love hearing stories that are all about them, especially the one that describes the way in which they arrived into this world.  

<In meek expression>  ok, enough about me, please go on with your story!

Pound Pup Legacy