Adoption has always been a thing in my life. My siblings are adopted. I am adopted. We are adopting.
I was born in India, and adopted as an infant. Growing up I can remember asking my grandma why people starred at me.... She told me, "It's because you're so beautiful." I believed her.... haha. My family always knew what to say... Honestly, Father knew exactly what He was doing placing me in their way. I belonged.
Over the years, my feelings about my adoption story have varied from liking, loving, mourning, and not really noticing it. A few years ago, my parents took me back to India with other adoptees. There, in my birth country, I became more myself than I was ever. I saw hairy-armed gals and accepted my own hairy arms. I took a picture with other brown faces. I found people who cared for me as an orphan, and loved me as though I had never left. I learned the other side to my story. I am an adoptee who has been loved, who is loved, and who can love. My trip back to my country was full of acceptance and love. Visiting my past allowed me to restructure my foundation and fill my life with acceptance and love. My story is adoption.