Unbroken Family

Last week, someone "kindly" forwarded a link to my email.
(catch that? it's called sarcasm and i am dripping with it today)

The name of the article that the link was for was "How to Survive the Holidays as a Broken Family". I have an issue with the term "broken family" - though, admittedly, not nearly as big an issue as I have with the fact that someone felt it was necessary to send me that bullshit link. In case you're wondering, a "broken family" is defined as a family where parents are separated or divorced, but I'm still not really feelin' it. A "broken home" essentially mirrors that statement, except it's a house with a broken family living inside of it.

My family is not broken. It is not defective. It might not look like yours, but it's made of the exact. same. stuff. 

I had a broken family when I had a husband who didn't help me raise our child. I had a broken home when a truck meant more than a marriage, and when fun with friends was more important than family. I had a broken life when my heart ached because my relationship was empty and my dreams were in the dark. I don't have those things any more, and my son does not come from a "broken home". He comes from a home that's filled with love and support and he has a family that loves and cares about him more than anything else in the world. He might not have someone in the house who he calls "Dad", but he's got a group of great men to look up to, each of whom is more than willing to lend a hand along the way.

Terms like "broken" serves only to tell our kids that there's something wrong with their home. Their family is "bad", it's not right. It's broken, like a toy that needs to be thrown away. Isn't being a kid in a situation with only one parent hard enough, without society telling him or her that their family is wrong? Isn't being a kid in the society we're in hard enough? I know as an adult that hearing terms like "broken family" or "broken home" make me feel badly about my life, and it's bullshit because my life is pretty awesome, and perfectly imperfect in its one-piecedness.

Does it suck that my family falls into the category of "broken"? No. Sure, I didn't plan on being a single parent but I'd way rather raise F alone than be miserable in a relationship where I felt just that - alone. My kid is a Hell of a lot better off having a parent who is genuinely happy than he would have been with two parents who weren't.

Families, like the people they are made up of, are unique. I explain this to F all the time. Some families have brothers or sisters, some have brothers and sisters. Some have no children, some have one child and others have all kinds of children. Sometimes they're different colours. Some families have one mom or two moms, two dads, one dad or a mom and a dad. But for all the differences, families are the exact same because they're made of love, whether they are nuclear, blended, upside down, purple, green, single-parented and triple-childed. 

And every family has hiccups and crazy Holiday stuff to deal with.

THE END.

Spitting Images

"He looks just like his father," the man said, smiling at F.

I guess it's a part of our vanity as parents that we long to hear how much our child looks like us, and depending on who you ask, F either looks just like me or just like the sperm donor (which, for the record, is what I choose to call my ex since he doesn't deserve the D or the F word, unless the  D word is douchebag or deadbeat and the F word we're talking about is fucktard - but I digress). I always flutter a bit of pride and happiness when I hear how much he looks like me - lucky kid, right? - but for once I didn't feel a pang of anger when this strange, kind man exclaimed how much F looks like his Dad.

Because this man thought Red was F's Dad. I don't think you could have smacked the smile off of Red's face.

It's funny how people see similarities in the appearances of others. I'm told all the time how much I look like the Carmichaels, and my brother is "the spitting image of his grandfather, Allister" but the truth is that I'm no more related to the Royal Baby than I am to the Carmichaels or the MacInnis clan. Which brings me to thinking, how lucky would the Royal Baby be to look like me? I'm kidding, you guys.

Kind of.

But, I can see how people would say I look like my Mom (the Petersons), or my Carmichael cousins and I can even see how one might liken my brother's thin frame and small face to my late-Papa. I can also see how it might lie in our mannerisms, the way we laugh, the way I tell stories the exact same way every other MacInnis does... with a lot of wind and hopefully a beer or two.

I spent a lot of time believing that family meant something very different than what it does - a surprising thing, given my own family. I believed firmly that F needed his biological dad. Maybe because I didn't have mine. Maybe not. What I've learned is that family is what you make of it. Pets become your children and friends become your sisters and brothers. You love people, and that is what family is.

Unchanged

It's amazing how quickly things can change.

Back in October, I wrote about my feelings on being adopted. Just a few days later I shared the excitement of knowing my birth mom had happily received my letter. When I first wrote my letter, I didn't really know what to expect. It was emotional, to say the least, and terrifying every step of the way. I anxiously prepared for the worst, and I am thrilled at the way things have turned out.

It's been two weeks now that I've been in constant contact with my Birth Mom (BM), my siblings and one of my uncles and I've never felt so at ease - though the fact that I'm on anti-anxiety medication may play a role in that. It's weird to go from feeling unsure of who you are to feeling complete so suddenly. Learning about the quirks I share with people I've never met has somehow given me and understanding of who I am and the power to become who I really want to be.

It's even more amazing how, in spite of everything that goes on in our lives, that any of us can remain the same.

A few friends have expressed concern that I might suddenly change - or have a total meltdown, which admittedly could happen - as my world begins to catch up to speed in the aftermath of finding my birth mom. By my own admission, I've been hiding in the woodworks for the past week or so just trying to catch my breath and steady myself. But I'm still me. I'm still all of the things I was before.

I'm still a MacInnis - unless I plan to have that expensive, ghastly-scar-leaving tattoo removal - and I will always be a MacInnis. It's kind of like a gang. There's no getting out! (Just kidding - we're so awesome, people keep trying to get into the clan)

In spite of wearing high heels and living in the city, I'm still a rubber-boot wearing girl who snorts when she laughs and prefers beer and lobster over pasta and wine. Well, unless the pasta includes lobster. And I've never turned down wine before.

Although I've been lucky enough to gain a whole new family, I like my old family just fine and they are irreplaceable. People like Mom and Dad, my grandparents, aunts, uncles and some (alright, all) of my cousins are few and far between in this world.

Disclosed

Imagine being 25 years old and hearing your mother's voice for the first time.

I lived that last week and it was as incredible and indescribable as you might imagine. Even more incredible has been learning how much we're alike, from taste in music to favourite wines, the way we drink our coffee and even having similar tattoos. It's been nothing shy of a dream come true. We even look alike.

Communicating with my brothers, my little sister and my uncle has been one of the most amazing experiences I will ever have, falling only behind F's arrival. I can't wait to meet them, hold them and see them face to face. I have played it over and over in my mind my whole life, but now I have images to go with it.

I am the oldest of seven kids, aunt to two nephews and niece to two uncles. Though it has been a bit overwhelming, I feel complete now - at peace, even - that I have this knowledge and this new connection with people who are a part of me. It is still surreal, my excitement is still electrifying and I don't think anyone could beat the smile off my face.

I have lived a very blessed and privileged life... In fact, I have been totally spoiled by two selfless people who have given me all I ever wanted and more (except for that pony, but they did fund many years of riding lessons). While many people live their lives without support - with no family - I am now fortunate enough to have two families of which I am a part of. My son has earned 4 additional uncles and a beautiful aunt, a new grandmother and her husband. He has two new cousins to grow up with.

The process of the adoption disclosure was long and tedious. After two years of waiting, a phone call changed my life. I laid in bed on the weekend F turned three and browsed her photos, fingered the writing on her letter to me... When we connected online last week, the world stopped turning and it's not quite up to speed again. And if things never go back to the way they were, that would be just fine.

From being the fake kid, to being Darlene's daughter I've come to believe that fairy tales do come true.