If you have a large family you may have been subjected to this question as well as many others. While grocery shopping with my children I’ve had complete strangers ask me if I’m Catholic. Others have asked me if I know about birth control. Many people have asked if they’re all mine, to which I will answer yes. One outspoken and rather rude man then said, “Do they all have the same father?” To which I had to answer, “No, and they don’t all have the same mother either.” He gave me a really strange look, I smiled and walked away.

Occasionally, after finding out that they are all mine, someone will then ask, “Are they all your real children.” Depending on my mood at that minute, I might say, “Yes, they are all real, not a single one is stuffed.” Some acquaintances that know we’ve adopted have asked right in front of the children, “Which ones are your real children?” After getting my answer about them all being real, some persist with “I mean which ones did you give birth to?” Sometimes they’ll start guessing, “Surely that one is your real child?” They rarely guess correctly, you see up until we adopted Ami, our seven month old, all of our children had “a shade of” blond hair, and all but one had blue eyes. They all looked like they could be birth siblings. Many people will assume that if you adopted children it must be your youngest children that are adopted but, we didn’t follow the “pecking order” rule and our oldest were adopted too.

I know that for some adopted children it can be painful for people to try to single them out or differentiate them from the rest of the family. Some of my children feel that way and it can create tense moments when tactless individuals ask about it right in the presence of all the children. Some of my children are very proud of being adopted and will come right out and tell an inquiring person. Since Ami was born, I can’t even guess how many people have walked up to me at stores, and asked, “Is that your baby?” I find this a very curious question. Do they know people who have just found babies and walk around the grocery store with them? After I tell them that “yes, she is my baby,” then they start talking about how cute she is. At least that is a subject that I am more than happy to discuss.

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