Reason #1:
Friend "A" approached me as such: "Hey! You're adopted, right? We're going through the process of adoption..maybe you could like..give us some insight!"
No. I really don't want to.
"Come on.. give us like.. one pearl of wisdom.. What should we know?"
I don't produce pearls. More like soggy, depressed sponges that sit next to the oysters that produce pearls.
"Please? One thing?"
So, I gave her my second to last copy of Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew. A week later, I was given the book back by a friend of a friend of a friend of Friend "A" and asked why I would ever give them something like that to read when they were so eager to receive their "Maybe Baby" as they call it (which in and of itself made me want to barf).
I have a feeling I won't be invited to that baby shower. Nor will I be photographing that newborn session. Nor will I ever be welcome back in that corner of the church building.
Reason #2:
Friend "B", who has known me since middle school, asked me "what I thought about being adopted". I should have directed her here. My response was probably not as friendly as it could have been. And I'm sure she wasn't ready for it.
I told her it was the worst thing that could ever happen to someone. I told her - as if it wasn't difficult enough to be separated from your mother, you are then expected to call another woman by that name, and more often than not, expected never to speak of that first woman again. I told her that I think about it every day and nearly every moment I am left to my own thoughts. I told her I still cry and I still find myself saying "I want to go home", only...I have no idea where that is. I told her it's the most difficult experience I can imagine and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.
I don't expect I'll be hearing from her any time soon, either.
Someone teach me how to shut my mouth and smile and nod again. When did I forget how to do that?
Someone tell me this will get easier.
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