I was adopted into my family when I was only a couple of months old.
I grew up in a loving home, with my parents and my brother, knowing that both he and I were adopted.
To me, that was normal.
There was no shame attached to it.
There were no tears to be shed.
I didn't get up and shout it to the world.
It wasn't a good or a bad thing.
It was just a fact.
We were a family, and that was all that mattered.
The question I get asked most often when people find out that I am adopted is, "Did you always know?" And I always answer "yes.
" Yes, I have always known because I was told at such a young age that I don't even remember being told.
That is how my parents chose to handle the situation.
When I answer that I have always known, some people are taken aback.
I guess it is hard for them to understand how my parents could have approached that with me, and how hard it must have been from them.
Or perhaps, it is just that they imagine that maybe I would have been better off not knowing, and that somehow this knowledge just shattered my world.
Hardly.
I can't tell you how glad I am that my parents chose to tell me from the beginning that I was adopted.
It was my first lesson in honesty.
It was crucial in building trust.
I also can't tell you how many other adopted people I have met through the years, whose parents never told them until later on in life, or who somehow found out "by accident.
" It devastated them.
Talk about feeling betrayed and feeling like your whole life has been a lie! I can't even imagine the logic behind that.
But, many families do feel that it is best to keep the truth under wraps.
For me, at least, it was obvious by looking at our family portrait, that we were not all from the same gene pool.
My brother and I didn't even resemble our parents in the least bit! Well, maybe not in looks, but in personality, and in our morals and values...
that would be a big yes.
Most of the people that I had met who found out later in their lives that they were adopted told me that they kind of had a feeling anyway.
One girl said that she was the only adopted one our of her five siblings and was never told.
She would stare at her family's pictures and see this incredibly strong resemblance with the dark hair, the dark eyes, the cleft chins, the particular noses and chins...
and there she was, sticking out like a sore thumb.
Poor girl! What kind of fool did her parents take her for? Don't get me wrong.
I know that people have their own reasons for doing what they do and far be it from me to tell other people how to live their life.
I know that there are some complicated issues surrounding adoption.
But, if you are thinking about adoption, please sort out these issues out beforehand.
I implore you! Here's a big question: When should you tell a child that he or she is adopted? From day one.
It doesn't matter if that baby or child looks up at you and just gurgles or spits up in response, because one fine day, that same child will understand.
it will just seem natural.
You, too, will get to practice telling the story over and over again.
Everyone will be better off.
It's a win-win! Like I said, I don't remember being told I was adopted, I just always knew.
My parents didn't make a big deal about it.
We just lived our lives.
When the questions came up, and they most certainly did, my parents were there to listen and answer them to the best of their ability.
Curiosity runs wild in most adopted children, and although my parents didn't know much about my birthparents, what they did know, they shared with me.
They also made it very clear, that if one day, I was interested in finding out more about who my birthparents were, they would support me.
The conversations were always ended with, "we love you so much, Michele.
" And I knew that to be true, even without them saying a word.
No drama, no tears,no mystery, no lies...
just love and honesty.