Adoption Myth X: You Can’t Love an Adopted Child as Deeply as a Biological Child

By: Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

Nothing infuriates me more than when a well-meaning professional refers to me as my daughters’ “adoptive mother.” It is an unnecessary qualifier for our relationship that diminishes my all encompassing love and attachment for my children as if the fact that they were adopted means our relationships cannot equal those relationships developed between a birth mother and child

I am ashamed to admit that many years ago, when I was young and inexperienced, before I became a mother, I assumed that children who were adopted were not as precious to their family as those born into their families.

To “assume” makes an ASS out of me. I’ll leave you out of this

It makes me nauseous to recall my reaction to some "news" stories sensationalizing a permanently separated child and parent. Upon hearing the news, my sympathetic side caused me to become awash with intense feelings of sadness. Just as I was reaching for the tissue box, the reporter revealed that the child had been adopted. That little twist in the news reporting had it's intended effect, it gave me a reason to let go of my sadness, just a little. It allowed me to rationalize that I should not feel too sad for those grieving "parents" because the child wasn’t really theirs, he was adopted (say adopted in a whispered hush for the full effect).

Boy was I stupid.

From the moment I learned that I was going to be a mother, I fell in love with my children. I did not have the predictable nine months (we all know its really ten months) of feeling a life grow within me. My wait was longer and rife with a multitude of unknowns.

Rather than the nine to ten months birth mothers have, I had years to bond with my future child, at least the idea of her. I dreamed or her for years, imagining her life, waiting and wishing for her. I dreamed of how I would parent her and what her life would be like.

I had no idea when she would come. I had no idea what she would look like. I had no idea how old she would be. All I had were my dreams, my wishes, and time, lots of time.

I had this twice.

Just like biological parents, bonding with my babies took time but the love was instantaneous. Much like the Grinch, my heart grew ten times the day I learned I would be a mom (each time) and then another ten times the first time I held my baby (each time).

My heart is full of undeniable, unbendable, intense, true-love for each of my girls

Just as the judge decreed on our adoption days, we parent our girls as if they were born to us. More importantly, we love them as if they were born to us. Maybe we even love them more because they were so wanted and such unexpected gifts of perfection. Destiny brought us together.

Each one of us in our little family has his or her unique story of what brought us together. Each of us has our hurts and sorrows surrounding the circumstances of needing one another. Each one of us has our unique way that we fell in love with one another. The only thing that is the same is that we are a family. The word “adoptive” is not necessary. "Family," "mom," "dad," or "daughter" work just fine, thank you very much.