Living In the Land of In Between.
Today I was asked to talk about the title of this book. Of a book that is not yet. I suppose it rests inside inching and itching it’s way out. I have no doubt, one day, it will sprout wings and grow. Today will be that beginning. God’s got it. All of it. May all others be kind.
Born in 1968, I was adopted at the age of thirteen months into an already formed biological family of five. I became the youngest member of this family making me number six. Two parents, three older brothers, all genetically connected to each other and then came me. A girl. The only girl. It is 1970 and nearing the end of the baby scoop era. Millions of us put up for adoption in an era of shame, pressures to relinquish, and few options presented to our first families. It is interesting that as adoptees, this is often where we start our story. Not from birth, but from the point of our adoption. Often, we don’t know the story of our before. We have to find it out for ourselves or hear various versions and bits and pieces of our story from others. It is here, we adoptees, begin our journey into the land of in between. A journey, I believe is chosen for us, but not chosen by us. This work, these words, are first for adoptees and then it is for our parents and others who love us. All of our parents. The ones who gifted us with genetics, love, and life and those parents who did not, but raised us as if they did. I am grateful for all of my parents. This, I know to be true.