It wasn't that they didn't have faces. The lady at the home was always shown from behind. Even the social worker who visited the house to make sure it was good place for a new baby was shown from the rear, peeking under the bed.

My mother often read me the book "The Chosen Baby" by Valentina Wasson to explain that I was adopted. The only people in the book with faces were the adoptive family. It wasn't until I was five that I realized I had actually been born. That I had a history before I was adopted was not important.

True. However for me to be chosen was to be special. And being special just reminded me of what I was not.

I grew up thinking that adopted was second-best. Because my parents never would have adopted if they had been able to make their own.

You got me when you wrote: lack basic rights of self-ownership. That's a very true way to say it.

This is so true.

Keep it up! Great work with kids.

YOU GO!