Chocolate Sprinkles and Dog Shit

I found a really cool blog today! The writers are a birth mom and the daughter that she gave up for adoption and reunited with. They seem to have very common adoption issues, no shortage of them actually, and it's nice to be able to hear from "both sides." In one of the posts that I read, Fuzzy Duck (adoptee) was feeling the very familiar feelings of not being important enough to her birth mom and feeling unneeded. She compared herself to being the chocolate sprinkles to her birth mom's whipped cream; a niceity, but something that could clearly be left out. I'm ashamed to say that while reading this, I found myself being selfish and petty. I was thinking how can she complain about being sprinkles? Sprinkles are a good thing, no? I told myself, "at least she isn't crumbs", "at least she doesn't feel like the dog shit to her birth mom's shoe", "at least her birthmom talks to her", etc. etc." Yes, that is how I feel-like dog shit to your shoe. Stepping in dog shit sucks. The stuff is gross, it stinks, and it's hard to get off. Basically, an annoyance in life that one tends to avoid.

As many things that I could come up with to say, "at least..., at least..." to, I realized it wasn't right. It wasn't fair. I can't make light of her circumstances, regardless of how I view mine. Pain is pain is pain. Hers doesn't feel any less to her, than mine does to me. Both of us have reason to say, "Fuck adoption."

Fuzzy Duck, I'm sorry.

Best wishes,
Jen