My mother lived to just 62, far too young of course and her death seemed illogical and unjust at the time. However, just how young she was is only now starting to sink in - more than 16 years later.
I'm 55 this year, just 7 years younger than she was when she died.
7 years! It will fly by...
'I thought these are your real parents, no?'
'So you are not real brother and sister then?'
I guess most adopters have experienced questions such as these being asked of us or our children at some point. It's frustrating to say the least and at worse it can feel insulting and indeed be quite painful, even so I am surprised at some adopters reaction to it.
We spend a considerable amount of time thinking about and trying to work with our children's coping mechanisms. What I didn’t give enough consideration to was how I would feel about giving up my own coping mechanisms that, until I was 44, had kept me safe and stable.