I know who my real parents are

Last night I was reading the paper in which an editorial article had been written about a woman who found her birth mother at the age of 55. The article itself is not relevant in this instance, but the paper's introduction to the story is. In the opening paragraph the journalist refers to "the first time she met her real mother."

This isn't the first time I have heard or read about biological parents being referred to as the "real" parents and unfortunately I am fairly certain it won't be the last. Celebrities and their children will forever be reading articles about themselves where the distinction between the families' natural children and their "adopted" children will be made repeatedly. Think Angelina Jolie, Calista Flockhart, Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise and their children to mention just a few. Each time adopted children are referred to as such or compared against "natural "members of the family we are setting these kids apart from what is perceived as normal society. It suggests that these children can't possibly be loved or accepted in the same way as natural children. It paints a picture of victims who should be pitied and I for one as an "adopted child" have never felt like a victim.

I was adopted, at a young age to a fantastic family. My parents, who couldn't have children themselves have given me all the opportunities any child deserves and I am thankful for them every day.

When I woke in the night crying as a baby, my "Adoptive" mum and dad comforted me. When I needed stitches in my leg when I was 6, my "adoptive mum" fought back her tears and the urge to run away as I screamed in pain and stood by my side holding my hand. On my birthdays my "adoptive parents" went to great lengths to throw me fantastic parties with homemade cakes and hand sewn loot bags. When I struggled with maths in school, my "adoptive parents" sat up tutoring me for hours at night without judging me. When I decided to move to Britain at the ridiculous age of 18, my "adoptive dad" took me shopping to make sure I was properly prepared and spoke to me in his wonderfully understanding tone giving me advice and telling me how much he loved me. I return home each year to my "adoptive parents, now bringing my own children with me, and I am at home - with my family - my parents - my REAL PARENTS.

I am, by all accounts, one of the lucky ones. I have an incredibly open family and I have always known I was adopted. People can't believe I don't remember being told, but all I can remember is knowing that I was special because my parents chose me. I was never sat down and told this serious piece of news - I just always knew. I once read a quote in a book which I thought was perfect. When asked about her child's' adoption a mother responded "you grew in my heart instead of my tummy

It was 6:30 in the morning although I couldn't tell you the day or even the month for that matter when I got a call from a woman with a strong Canadian accent asking if I was Alison. I could hear her voice shaking as she spoke. I must have sounded quite rude to her as I was on my way out the door to begin my 2.5 hours journey to work and was totally ticked to be bothered at such a ridiculous time (I don't do mornings well). I forgot all about work once she told me her name and explained she was my birth mother.

There are so many misconceptions about how you are supposed to feel when reunited with your birth parents, but each child and parent deals with it in an individual way. For me, I didn't feel much of anything - just numb. Although I had always held her in high regard for taking the brave steps necessary to ensure I had the best start in life possible, I never really gave my birth mother too much thought - She may have crossed my mind occasionally on my birthday and obviously after the birth of my own children. I was perfectly happy with my REAL parents and unlike some, I never felt anything was lacking from my life.

We have never had the teary reunion TV specials are made of and if I am honest, I don't want to. I am glad to have contact with her but my life is full of people who I love and who love me, including beautiful, kind and tender parents. I am not looking for another one.

I was of course intrigued to learn about a side of me I hadn't known anything about. I was most curious to find out about brothers and sisters I had floating around. My birth mother, a confirmed lesbian (was my birth that bad??) had not had any other children and my birth father who she won't speak about had three. He didn't know about me then and still doesn't. If I am honest, once I discovered there weren't any siblings I could form any relationship with, I lost interest. We never spoke again although we write and email each other every couple of weeks. It is a struggle really to fill a page when I write because despite our blood connection we have little in common, in fact, I am not sure I would even like her very much if it weren't for a sense of responsibility I can't seem shake.

When I heard from her that morning at 6:30, my first instinct was to call my mum and tell her. My REAL parents have always been supportive and encouraging and I felt after 23 years of being there for me they had more than earned the right to be included. More to the point I couldn't think of anyone else I wanted to share my news and talk about it with. My parents took it in their stride. I am sure it brought up insecurities and concerns but as they have done all my life, they put that aside to support me. I think they have appreciated my involving them and I hope it has gone some way to reassuring them of their position in my life.

I have always been perfectly comfortable with being adopted and as such have been open with people around me about it. I get such a kick out of watching people's faces when I mention my adoption. It is hard for me to understand why something that is 100% normal to me can be so odd to others, but sure enough, as soon as they hear the word adopted, there is an awkward silence and their faces freeze. You can see their minds rattling with a million questions they want to ask, which I am happy to answer. Inevitably, they always start by asking if I want to meet my "REAL" parents.

I accept this with good humour as I can appreciate people can be naïve when presented with subjects they know nothing or little about. Journalists and news broadcasters however cannot be let off so easily. In a position of supposed impartiality and responsibility it is imperative that they take more care.

Although I have been lucky and am confident in who I am there is a stigma attached to being adopted. These journalists are being irresponsible in encouraging the stigma to be considered acceptable. Adopted children deserve the right to be a part of the family and shouldn't have to justify their position. There is no shame in being adopted. Labelling children in any way is a dangerous and hurtful game to play which can lead to feelings of isolation and low confidence, not to mention bullying and teasing. Surely in this day in age, with families now being so diverse and so far removed from the traditional nuclear family we once knew, the media should know better to be more sensitive and thoughtful in their approach.