My Personal Adoption Background

I am an adoptee. I was adopted as a baby at 6 weeks old. My adoptive parents were a good, stable, loving couple who couldn't have children of their own. They had been married for more than 10 years when I was adopted & had gone through the devastation of a false pregnancy soon followed by my adoptive mother having a hysterectomy. So adoption became thier only option.
They were good parents. They adopted a second child, my brother, when I was 2 years old. He was also a baby, 6 months old, at the time of his adoption.

We were always told that we were adopted. They had books they read to us a small children that explained adoption. Mostly informed us that we were "special", "chosen". Almost made it seem like the kids born to their natural parents were the unlucky ones since we were specially chosen by our parents while the naturally born kids were just "luck of the draw". I never really bought into that, mind you. To me, there was always something missing. That wasn't my parents fault, just situational.

We were definitely doted on as children. Daddy had a good job, Mom stayed home with us, was always "room mother" at school, etc. We really never went wanting for anything. At least not materially. And they loved us, I have no doubt about that. My brother never really seemed to dwell on the fact that he was adopted. I certainly did. I can remember as early as 10 years old going to the mail box on my birthday hoping for some message from my birth mother. I remember looking in the mirror as I entered my teens wondering who I looked like. My friends all looked like their mom or their dad, they looked like their siblings.... I was always acutely aware of things like that.

On my 12th birthday, I think it was, I asked to go to Washington D.C., where I was born, for my birthday. So we did. I spent the entire trip looking at every woman in site as we walked the Smithsonian, the Mall at the Washington Monument, along the streets.... looking to try & pick out one of them that looked like me, that might be my birth mother. I didn't tell my parents that I was doing this, didn't tell them that was the primary reason I wanted to come to D.C. But that's what I went for, not to see the sights. I asked which hospital I was born in, but they didn't know. Who doesn't know where they were born?! Missing pieces, so many missing pieces.

As I grew into adulthood, I now realize that I was always seeking to complete myself by trying to create the whole family I never felt I had. A husband & children of my own, really my own. I had my first child when I was 22, it was my second marriage. She was a miracle to me. I named her Pamela Anne, because I knew that had been my original name. Somehow it seemed to make her even more mine, maybe more fully complete myself. I enjoyed being her mother from the very beginning, even before she was born. Finally a person I was biologically connected to. At 26 I had my second child, Megan. 3rd marriage. Still seeking.

The marriages were really bad, won't go into that, not what this platform is for. Suffice it to say I chose badly. But I always had my girls & they had me. They had the best schools, dance, gymnastics, art classes.... you name it. We've always been very close and had a very open relationship. We could understand each other inately.
I see how much easier that is when you can reference their personality based on their parents. Even though I don't always agree with them, I understand them. I never had that growing up. There is certainly a difference growing up with natural parents as opposed to growing up adopted. No doubt. No "missing pieces".