You're Adopted
To hear those words come from your lips,
"You're adopted."
Do you know what I was thinking?
You say I didn't understand.
You tried to explain that I was loved,
Loved enough to be taken from my real family
And put here with you.
I understood completely what was said, when you said,
"You're adopted."
You meant my defects had been seen.
My birth mother had seen them as soon as I had been born.
And she had decided to get rid of the defect
So she could try again, once more.
You say,
"You're adopted."
And the only reason why, is because she was eighteen
And she couldn't care for a baby
While she was a baby herself.
Is that why she had a baby boy one year later
And kept it?
"You're adopted."
It means she didn't want a reminder of my dad
To follow her around, call her mommy
To cry and laugh and dream and love her,
Because I know I would have, with all of my heart.
I still do.
You say to me,
"You're adopted."
And you tell me it's a blessing that I have such a good mom.
Yes, mom, you're amazing.
But you did not bring me into this world.
You raised me, didn't birth me.
And the day I left the womb I was scorned,
Cast aside by someone who was supposed to nurture me.
You say,
"You're adopted."
And tell me of children in orphanages.
Though I was raised in a house,
Not in a place that looks like a penitentiary,
Doesn't mean I don't know what they feel.
I know abandonment very well.
I understand hatred, too.
Anger for the adults that have ripped their lives apart.
You tell me,
"You're adopted."
As if it's a happy ending to a children's novel.
As if it automatically makes my life better.
As if it makes my story easier to understand.
"You're adopted."
Do you know what I was thinking?
You say I didn't understand.
You tried to explain that I was loved,
Loved enough to be taken from my real family
And put here with you.
I understood completely what was said, when you said,
"You're adopted."
You meant my defects had been seen.
My birth mother had seen them as soon as I had been born.
And she had decided to get rid of the defect
So she could try again, once more.
You say,
"You're adopted."
And the only reason why, is because she was eighteen
And she couldn't care for a baby
While she was a baby herself.
Is that why she had a baby boy one year later
And kept it?
"You're adopted."
It means she didn't want a reminder of my dad
To follow her around, call her mommy
To cry and laugh and dream and love her,
Because I know I would have, with all of my heart.
I still do.
You say to me,
"You're adopted."
And you tell me it's a blessing that I have such a good mom.
Yes, mom, you're amazing.
But you did not bring me into this world.
You raised me, didn't birth me.
And the day I left the womb I was scorned,
Cast aside by someone who was supposed to nurture me.
You say,
"You're adopted."
And tell me of children in orphanages.
Though I was raised in a house,
Not in a place that looks like a penitentiary,
Doesn't mean I don't know what they feel.
I know abandonment very well.
I understand hatred, too.
Anger for the adults that have ripped their lives apart.
You tell me,
"You're adopted."
As if it's a happy ending to a children's novel.
As if it automatically makes my life better.
As if it makes my story easier to understand.
♠ ♠ ♠
I found out when I was 11 years old that I was adopted at birth. Shortly afterward, my birthmother came into my life, but she's made it clear by her actions that she can leave any time she wants to. All I have ever wanted was her love and approval, and with her never showing me that, but always showing my brother and sister, I was pushed to the edge. I wrote this after a particularly bad encounter between me and her that led to a lot of fighting and tears. We still struggle to have a normal relationship, and I don't think we ever will. But I'm content with where I'm at now. I don't seek her approval constantly anymore. She can either be there or disappear. But every time I see this, this poem takes me back to the pain, anger, and abandonment that still haunts me. Thanks for taking the time to read this.