I was adopted in 1964. I grew up knowing I was adopted. I don't remember ever not knowing I was adopted. My Mom could not have children. They adopted a boy first, my brother, not biological. Three years later they adopted me.

We both had anniversary's (cake) on the day were brought home and then we had our normal birthdays.

My 'family' was just as dysfunctional as the rest of my friend's families.

My poor Mom would read all these adoption articles and books then ask my brother and me all these questions to make sure we were 'alright'. Both my brother and I got to the point where we would just give her a hug and say 'yes, we are fine' so we didn't have to listen to the bull she read in the magazine's about how being adopted would scare you for life.

I still to this day thank my Birth Mother for giving me up for adoption. No, not to her face. I have no idea who she is. I thank her for knowing that she could not give me a home and having the guts and courage to give me a chance at a better life.

This is just my story....all true but......I don't read things on adoption because they usually are full of very negative things and while my life was not perfect, but who's is, I was given to a family for a chance at a normal life.

My parents more than met that obligation. LOLL What more can you ask for.