birth mother

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Christmas time, for what ever reason, always makes me think about my relationships with people.

Those that know me well, know I’m adopted.

I was 3 months old when I was adopted and I can’t remember a time that I didn’t know.  My parents were always very forthright about it and it was something to be celebrated, not hidden in our house.

When I was 21, through a bizarre series of events, I got the opportunity to meet my birth mother.  And eventually her whole family.

I am a classic study of nature vs nurture.

I never really fit into my family growing up.  I feel bad for my parents because I was so different from them, they just had no idea what to do with me.

Then I met my birth mom, Deb.

Lets just say the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

I don’t look all that much like her, but personality wise?  We are two peas in a pod.

We have the same sarcastic sense of humor.

The same dry wit.

The same irritation with what we view as stupidity.

People who have never met me can pick me out as her daughter within minutes of talking to me.

Weirder still?

My aunt, my birth mother’s youngest sister, and I are practically carbon copies.  It freaks people out because we grew up in two different worlds not knowing each other.  But we talk the same, have the same mannerisms, the same gestures.  Her husband hates when we get together because we finish each others sentences and constantly say the same thing at the same time.

So any scientist says there’s no base for the nature argument with adoptees and that children are a ‘fresh slate’ can bite me.

What made me think of all this was the difference between the two Christmas cards I got from my mom and my birth mom.

In the card my mom sent to Bil and I she wrote in

“Wishing you a very Merry Christmas and all the best for a happy, healthy, and prosperous New Year”

The card we got from my birth mom today had the following written in it:

May all your Christmas lights stay lit
May all your presents be a hit
May joy and laughter deck your halls
And may no one bust your Christmas balls

Any questions about who gave birth to me?  I thought not.

 Like Mother, Like Daughter

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