When should I tell my child that he/she is adopted? An adoptee's perspective

 My earliest memory is foggy but the lasting impact of this memory is so clear. I was on the floor in our family room, around 4 years old,  and my mom and dad sat me down for a chat. I cant remember who said what but I remember the general idea of the conversation was that my mom had wanted so badly to have a baby of her very own but she could not have a baby in her tummy. Around the same time that this was happening, another woman had a baby in her tummy and she was not able to take care of and keep the baby so she had chosen to give that baby to my mom and dad. My mom and dad were so thankful and they picked me up from the hospital when I was three days old.  This was the general idea of my adoption story and my parents continued in explaining to me just how much they loved me, how much they had prayed for and wanted me and what a blessing I was in their lives. I left that conversation fully confident of the fact that I was their chosen child and that my adoption was, quite possibly the biggest blessing in my life and theirs. 

As an adult looking back, there are two things that stand out to me about that day. First, the fact that my parents took this opportunity to help me have a beautiful understanding of my adoption and of adoption in general. I can not help but think of the scripture in James 3:4-5 "Look at the ships also: though they are so large and driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. So also, the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things." I am not sure that my parents even realized at that moment that the words they said to me that day would be my earliest memory, that they would remain in my head and mental thought life from that day forward and that they would create a sort of foundation for how I saw and valued myself as a person and ultimately as an adoptee. Because I was told that my adoption was special and I was special, I was always excited to share that "I was adopted!" My parents words formed the foundation for my belief that my adoption had a purpose and that while my story might be different than some, it was so special and so was I. 

The second thing that sticks out to me is that I remember my Mom's face, she had tears streaming as they told me this beautiful story. I honestly remember being a little confused by it. I couldn't quite understand why what was so clearly such an amazing thing would make my mama cry. I didn't think much more about her tears at that time, but looking back as an adult I can see that her tears came from heartache. The heartache of the whole process of adoption; from not being able to physically have your own child, the journey to finding your way to your child and in that very moment the tiny bit of fear she must have felt in telling me this truth about myself. As a mother myself now, I can not imagine the amount of emotion wrapped up in that conversation for her;  years of heartache summed up in one tiny story that a four year old could grasp. In a way, giving me this truth was freeing because there would never be a big family secret, never a moment for me to find out and resent my parents for keeping it from me but at the same time it was an opening of pandoras box in a way. Because I was given this truth there would be questions and searching and those moments for people to refer to me as their "adopted child" instead of just "their child", the one who was meant to be theirs from the beginning, no matter how I got there. What my mom probably didn't realize that day is that the main one sharing about my adoption would be me. Because she had given me the beautiful gift of my truth and my story and because she assured me that it was something to be confident in, I shared it often with a smile! 

As I've gotten older and had the chance to work through the many heart issues that naturally come along with being an adoptee and finally recognizing that adoption does often begin with heartache on all sides, I can honestly look back and say that giving me this truth, the truth of my story is one of the most beautiful and selfless gifts that my parents have ever given me and I couldn't be more thankful. 

*Psalm 139:15-16 My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was not one of them.