Wake Up Call

Yesterday I had FUN! We went to the water park to celebrate the birthday of my friend's daughter. I haven't been to a water park since I was a teenager. I had forgotten how much I like water slides.

Like anything else, though, my analysis muscle was working overtime the entire time I was there. Something was off with my kids and I couldn't figure it out.

The girls and myself were the only non-relatives invited to said party.

I was at a loss to figure out my own kids so I spent the majority of the time considering the relationships in the family we were with. I have known the family for 18 years. It's not like any of them are strangers. They definitely aren't. I'm just not one of them. In another 30 years I still won't be one of them. They aren't my family.

I have spent the better part of the last 20 years working to establish the "family" experience for myself because of the dysfunction the scarred me as a child. On some level I have definitely done that. I can say, though, that no amount of contrived family experience can substitute for the real thing. Every family has it's dysfunction, but there's just something really beautiful about those moments when in spite of the dysfunction the family works as a unit.  **like linking arms to escape the pool troll**

When we got home last night I asked why my girls didn't play with the birthday girl and her sister. I was told that when the oldest asked the other child if she wanted to play she said no because she just wanted to hang out with her cousins. All of the sudden everything clicked in my head and I understood.

Here was the big thought that occurred to me after hearing that: My girls aren't part of the family we were with and they aren't biologically part of mine. I cannot imagine how painful it is for them to know that they have a biological family out there that they can't be a part of. I'm certain they understand the bio-family bond. When my kid told me about what the other kid said she wasn't upset by it. It made perfect sense to her. It broke my heart, though. The best Hubby Guy and I can offer is a contrived family experience. As much as our family is their family now, there will always be a piece of them that is missing. That is the tragedy of adoption.