Adoption. The word has so many levels to it. The strength it takes to give up a child and give it a chance at a better life. The hope of getting a child when you’ve been unable to conceive. And oh, the fun of growing up adopted. So much there too!

I should know. I was adopted. I was 13 days old when my mom and dad (adoptive that is) took me home. Best thing that ever happened to me. They gave me things my mother couldn’t have. 

When I was 30 I searched for and found my birth mom. I discovered that she was raised fairly strict Catholic and had refused to marry my father. She left her home town to have me. When I came back into her world she’d been hiding the truth about giving me up from everyone except a few select people. My half sister E tells me that when I came back into C’s life she was able to stop hiding me and it made her a much happier person.

But this post isn’t about my adoption. That’s a story for another post or two. This post is about my friends K and D.

K and I have been friends for 10+ years. D is her wonderful husband. And they can’t have kids. 

This week K emailed me and asked me to go to lunch with them one weekend. They want to pick my brain. About adoption.

They’re going to try to adopt.

That just makes me so happy. Not only because K and D would be amazing, geeky, wonderful parents. But because I love it when people adopt.

My birth mother gave me up and then we found each other. My half sister gave a baby up into an open adoption. I have friends who are adopted and friends who have adopted. Adoption is a thread that runs through my life connecting me to all sorts of wonderful, interesting people. 

And I’m so happy that K and D will soon be connected to that beautiful thread.