This may seem obvious but I’m reminded by weekends like this of just how much of a mother Amy is to the kids. Adoption is all we know as parents so it’s what we live and breathe, but that doesn’t mean it’s the norm or that we’re not often reminded of the unconventional way in which we’ve become parents. Any time a pregnancy or birth story is brought up, or facial similarities are mentioned, or breastfeeding woes lamented, we are reminded of crucial aspects of normal parenthood we are strangers to. It doesn’t take away from the preciousness of our parental experience, or the gratitude we have for being able to adopt, or the fierce love we feel for our kids. But nor is it something that is swept under the rug without a second thought or pang of sadness.
And yet, when we are all together enjoying each other’s company as a family, like we did this past weekend, these differences are nowhere to be thought of. And, because Amy is white and the kids are Asian, the reality of their adoptive beginnings is often the first thing people think of when they Amy and the kids together. Yet it wasn’t even a passing thought for us four, full as we were with the enjoyment of a loving mother by two kids who’ve known no other mother.
I’m sure Aaron and Jada will go through phases where they wonder, maybe even pine, to know more about their biological roots. That is natural and to be expected, and we will support that. But for now, let me revel in the blessing that is two beautiful children and a mother who loves them with all her heart.