Lucky.
That’s a word used often to describe adoptees, and I used it plenty of times growing up.
“I’m lucky because my mom chose me.”
“I’m lucky to have education. healthcare, a home, a mom, a family.”
I saw the conditions of third world countries on the news when The News Hour with Jim Lehrer did a special report on a war or an epidemic. I would watch like a nerd when they covered an epidemic because a) my mom was a nurse and b) I was trying to understand what my life was like as a malnourished chronically ill infant and toddler before I came to the US at 18 months. My mom would remind me how lucky I was that I was here, and that is true. I was first seen by an ophthalmologist after my adoption and of course my diet and access to antibiotics got better.
As a child. I worked hard in school to prove that I won’t waste my gift of adoption. I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to do sonething extraordinary.
As time went on and life happened, I found myself just being a normal teenager, college student, and working adult. Now I’m a suburban mom with an office job dealing with mundane things like buying diapers and formula and going to my desk job 40 hours per week.
Look at where you are. Look at where you started. The fact that you’re alive is a miracle.
There’s a part of me that wants more. That doesn’t want to just settle for an ordinary life, but my sweet husband reminds me that I came from an extraordinary circumstance. My ordinary life in America was never imaginable back in the Philippines.
I’m grateful for my life now.
Adoption Etc. 