Thursday, January 12, 2006

Love is love is love...



Aisha asked a very valid question on her blog “Can you love your biological and adoptive children equally?”

I think the answer to that question lies within the individual. Some people can’t. I’ve seen it happen a few times where people adopt kids and then out of the blue have one of their own. I’ve seen the differences in their love for the two children. While they love their adopted child their eyes gleam more for the biological one and spoil that one more. I’ve seen family members say oh so and so is their “real” child feeling the need to distinguish between adopted and biological.


On the other hand I’ve also seen the complete opposite and am happy to say that this seems to be the consensus among families with adopted children.For example I was an only child until my grandmother passed away at the age of 37 after childbirth. As a result my parents raised the newborn infant in addition to three older boys. At the time they were 4, 6, and 7 yrs old. These were my mother’s half brothers. After a few years my parents added 2 more biological children to the brood Steven and Caitlin. Having grown up with my uncles and my siblings in the same house I can honestly tell you I can’t differentiate between the two. I see no difference between my uncle Matt (the infant) and my brother Steven. I love them both the same. Usually I refer to my uncles as my brothers I am only referring to them as my uncles here for blogging purposes and to tell you the truth it doesn’t feel right referring to them as my uncles. To me they are my big brothers (nicknames) Abbie, Gilin, Chino and my little brother Matthew; I am 2 yrs older than him.

My uncles for their part love my parents as if they were their biological parents even though the two oldest boys remember their biological mother. To them my mother, their half-sister is their mom. Their dad was a big part of their life when they were growing up and even though they loved him whenever someone asked them who their father was they always pointed out my father. Now the older boys (28 and 29) are married and each of them has a child of their own and their kids call my parents grandma and grandpa.

When we were growing up my parents treated us all equally, there was never any favoritism towards the biological children. As a matter of fact it never really hit me that they weren’t my brothers until I was in 4th grade and I got one of my uncles old teachers and she referred to my uncle Abbie as my uncle and not my brother. When I told her,” no he is my brother” she told me he wasn’t that she in fact remembered his real mother. That’s when it first hit me that we weren’t siblings. It was a funny thing because when I spoke to my mom about it she told me, “Well what does your heart tell you?” “He’s my big brother ma.” and she replied, “That’s all that matters then not what anyone else says.”

My uncles father my step-grandfather Che treated me as his grand daughter all of my life, he was a doting grandfather to my biological siblings as well. We got away with murder! In his eyes we could do no wrong. He attended all of our school functions, graduations etc. When I was getting ready to graduate from junior high school and had to attend school fairs in order to decide what high school I wanted to apply to it was him that chauffeured me around attending all of the weekend fairs with me. When I graduated from high school he was right there in the audience sitting next to my biological grandfather both of them blubbering as I stormed the stage to get my diploma.


When his oldest son had his first child my grandpa Che’s wife remarked that now that he had a “real” grandson that my siblings and I would take a back seat to that child. My folks felt that she was spewing nonsense, but she was rather insistent on her view. My grandpa Che proved her wrong. His treatment of me and my siblings never changed. He still spoiled us and when asked about his grandchildren he would always say, “I have four and list our names rather than just saying one and naming his biological grandson. When he passed on a few years ago I mourned his death just as I would the death of a biological grandparent because to me he was my “real” grandfather. In fact I was closer to him than my biological paternal grandfather; my love for him knew no difference. I loved my grandpa Che dearly; the bond between us was incredible. When he had his first stroke I cried when I saw him in the hospital. Seeing my reaction he asked my parents not to bring me there anymore he couldn’t stand to see my tears it hurt him too much to see me cry and worrying about him. When he had his 2nd stroke and lost the ability to speak he would cry whenever I stood by his bedside and caressed his face. My love for him didn’t understand all the crap about blood lines and shared DNA. All my heart understood was that he was my “Viejo” and I missed him yanking on my pony tail and calling me “Maruca”, I wanted him home. When he died I cried for weeks, I mourned for him I still mourn and still miss him.


My biological maternal grandfather grandpa Raymond sees no difference between the boys and his own children. Mind you these kids are the off spring of his ex-wife and her second husband.He’s watched them grow up and has always been a part of their lives as well. They call him grandpa and their kids call him their great grandpa. Maybe it’s because they are the children of his ex wife is the reason he is able to love them so much. My grandparents had been best friends since they were 10 yrs old and got married as teenagers when they divorced they parted as friends and remained close friends until the day my grandmother died.


My dad’s family is something else they have never allowed my uncles to forget they are adopted. At family functions whenever someone who didn’t know the story behind their adoption and would remark how much Abbie resembles my dad ( he really does, that’s something my grandma and mom always remarked about even before my parents married) my paternal grandmother would always be quick to point out that Abbie and his brothers was adopted. When we’d be over there on Christmas, the tree was always filled with gifts for me and my siblings but never anything for my uncles. That act in itself spoke volumes to my mother and eventually she stopped bringing us over on Christmas day instead she would wait til the day after Christmas when the boys would spend their winter vacation with their biological dad and then head out for her in-laws.

Years ago I asked my parents once to compare their love for my uncles as opposed to the love they felt towards their biological children and I was amazed but not surprised by the answer. My parents told me that they wish they could say that they loved me more for example than they loved my uncle Chino but the fact was that they didn’t. In each of my uncles because they had raised them they were able to see bits and pieces of themselves in terms of personality traits, dislikes and likes. To them there was no difference between me their biological child and my uncles their adopted children. I gotta say I agree because within my own heart I feel there is no difference between adopted and the biological love is love is love.

Labels: family

Posted by @ 12:50 PM
3 comment from:  Aisha,  Mia,  Aisha,