People ask
me all the time if it was weird to grow up adopted. For me, being adopted was my normal, so it wasn’t weird at all. Until I got older, most of the adoption
mystery wasn’t a big deal. I knew my
parents loved me, I knew they wanted me and I felt no bitterness or anger
towards my birth parents.
As I got
older, the parts of adoption that bothered me had more to do with genetics than
environment. Who did I look like? Where did my nose come from? Why was I so tall? Does cancer or heart disease run in my
family? Most of those answers are taken
for granted in a completely biological family unit; for an adoptee they can be
a scary mystery that may never be fully answered.
Recently, I
managed to find yearbook photos of Helen and John online so I know now that I
resemble my birth mother a great deal.
But, I didn’t have any photos of either of them growing up; and it’s
only one photo during one time of their life.
Do my boys resemble them? I don’t
think so, but it’s hard to place on one photo.
Every
doctor’s office has a medical information form you complete at your first
visit. Most of the questions deal with
medical history of your family. I’ve
been blessed to have proactive doctors that didn’t hesitate to check little
things out and I’ve been super blessed to be a healthy person with no medical
problems. But I have no knowledge of
cancer, heart disease, mental illness, diabetes or other health challenges in
my family. It’s a blank.
When I was
pregnant with my first son, I told my doctor I knew my birth mother was
Italian. Women of Mediterranean descent
often carry a disease called Thalassemia. It’s a blood disorder that can cause a
majority of issues including death.
Women are usually carriers and can pass it down to 1 in four of their
children. My doctor requested additional
testing during my first pregnancy to establish whether I carried the
genetic markers for the disease (I don’t and neither of my boys have it
either).
I’ve had additional testing for heart disease,
cancer screenings and diabetes. I am
blessed that I’m healthy and don’t seem to have any markers for those diseases
either.
What’s weird to me? Helen was 5’6”; John was 5’11”. I’m just slightly over 6’ tall and both my
boys are tall. I have hazel eyes; my
birth mother had blue eyes, my birth father had brown eyes; my boys have their
father’s (and apparently birth-grandfather’s) eye color.
It’s also an interesting question for
me how many of my skills and talents are genetic or environmental. My mother was a great cook; I was an okay
cook until just a few years ago and then I grew to love it. I follow recipes like my mother (a pinch or a
generous) but have no fear in trying new things or experimenting with flavors;
that’s something I never remember my mother doing. I’m also drawn by taste and by desire to
Italian foods. I’d rather eat pasta than
potatoes or burgers any day, hands down.
Is that genetic, or just a coincidence?
I’m also drawn to bagpipe music, which
is neither Italian nor Irish. My mother,
Marjorie is half Scot (her father was born in Larkhall, Scotland), but we
didn’t grow up playing bagpipe music in the house. In fact I can’t remember hearing bagpipes
until I was much older. When I did, I
very nearly wept. I’m drawn to Celtic
music and lore and dream about extended trips to Scotland and Ireland.
It’s difficult to tell how much of “me”
is defined by experience vs. environment vs. DNA. I wonder if that’s true with non-adopted
people.
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