My mom told me I was special when I was in the 4th grade because she and my dad got to “pick” me out of all the little babies. That is how she told me I was adopted. Although I was indeed special, they didn’t get to “pick” me out of a lineup. It was as much a tall tale as the stork dropping babies off at parents’ front doors, but it was a great way to let me know in a sweet compassionate way that I was adopted. In truth, my parents had to wait years to get through the adoption process. They were pros by the time they adopted me because they had already been through it with my older brother. My parents went through an agency in Mississippi (where they were living at the time) and went through a two year process of interviews with social workers and inspections of their home and every private detail of their lives. The social workers also interviewed my brother who told them every time he saw them to make sure it was a girl so he could have a little sister. My parents got the call on my dad’s birthday that they had a little girl for them and my parents were off to get me. I would love to know what the decision process was on the agency’s side to match me up with my parents. Why me? Why them? Why all of us together? I’m sure the people in that “underground network’ of adoption bloggers and activists I found know exactly how that goes down so maybe one of them will give me some idea. Was it simply luck that brought us all together…or fate that placed me into the hands of the greatest family for me and who I would become? Whatever it was, I’m grateful. Yes, momma, I am special but not because you “picked” me, but because you MADE me that way. You made me believe it and gave me the confidence to BE special. Thank you!