The U.S. Census and Adoption

I don’t want to dwell on being adopted. It really shouldn’t affect my life. I got the family I was meant to have. I believe it. However, I’m surprised how I’m constantly reminded I’m an adoptee.
I got a form from the census bureau in the mail today. I was instructed to go online and answer some questions. One in particular really surprised me. They wanted the relationship of children living in the house. They listed the usual: son, daughter, parents, etc. then they added step children and adopted children. What does being adopted have to do with the census? I thought, by the process of adoption, one became the “real” child. Why make this distinction?
Then, they wanted to know my ethnicity in detail. The country of my origin. What about adoptees who don’t know their background? They don’t have a check mark for “don’t know.”
Really.
This morning on The View, actor Jay Thomas announced how he recently reunited with his son. And they were so much alike. What about the non-celebrities who can’t find their birth families?
My favorite. I just received test results warning me that I am pre-diabetic. After cutting out almost all sugar from my diet and adding exercise, my numbers are getting worse. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I have recently learned this condition, for me, is genetic. My two bio half-sibs had, have diabetes. One passed away very young.
Like it or not, an adoptee rarely forgets they are adopted.
I know I don’t.

What reminds you about your adoption?

My memoir about how I found my bio family.

Happy Father’s Day – Adoptive and Bio Dad

Happy Father’s Day – adoptive and bio dad.

I was one of the lucky ones. But I didn’t know it. It wasn’t until six years after he passed away that I learned my adoptive dad was actually my bio dad.
How often does that happen? So many times I read that the dad was denied rights to his biological child. The birthmother relinquished her child, either without telling the dad she was pregnant or giving him no choice in the matter.
I read about fathers trying to reclaim their children every day. To no avail. It breaks my heart.
My situation was different. I was told I was adopted. I believed I was adopted by both of my parents. Who wouldn’t think that?
Years later, after uncovering a photo of my dad’s high school graduation, and placing it next to my son’s graduation picture, I realized the two were identical. Almost as if they were twins separated at birth. Unbelievable.
I wanted to know a story.
Why did my son look like my adoptive dad? Why did I, in retrospect, look so much like my adoptive dad?
It took years to figure it out. And to figure out why my mom seemed to hate me.
Writing my story in Call Me Ella was very cathartic. But it doesn’t change the fact that my dad never got to tell me he was my bio dad.
I know it’s a little late but I want to take this moment, this Father’s Day, to say I love you dad. Although you couldn’t tell me the truth, you were always my real dad. In every way that counts.