Brace yourselves: it’s going to get ranty!
We had a hard emotional day today, so to stop issues whirring about in my little whirligig head, I thought I’d listen to ‘Open Book’ on Radio 4 whilst I prepped tea. I love that programme. Usually.
I couldn’t even tell you what book they were discussing now. All I heard was a woman say something along the lines of ‘she was adopted, so she went to look for her real parents’.
I know, I know, deep breaths, adopter folk. Breathe in 2 3 4, and out 2 3 4. In… and out.
Better? No, I wasn’t either.
Maybe the speaker was well-meaning but naive. Maybe she knew exactly what she was saying. She used the phrase more than once. So who knows?
What I know, though, is as an adopter I am a real parent. Our children have birth parents, who they refer to as ‘old mum and dad’, and us. They have no contact with birth parents: sadly it would not be safe. We are their parents. We are real parents. We are actual, genuine, authentic, bona fide, pukka, legitimate, undeniable, certain & true parents.
Rant over, I’m off to do some real parenting.