Adoption · Musings and Personal

My Daughter’s Memories of her Other Parents

“Mommy, I want to see Ruth and David again,” said my older daughter, Payten, yesterday.

“Do you remember them?” I asked, though it was unlikely.


“What do you remember about them?”

  • Does she remember being shuffled back and forth between Ruth and David, and her biological grandmother?
  • Does she remember being stuck in the car seat for hours on end while David “worked?”
  • Does she remember David buying her Big Dog, her cherished security item?
  • Does she remember crying in her crib as an infant, Ruth too strung out to answer?
  • Does she remember her first birthday with chocolate cake, as Ruth and David captured it with a camera?
  • Does she remember riding in the car while they smoked meth?
  • Does she remember being homeless the month before she moved in with us?
  • Does she remember the bracelet Ruth gave her the day she was dropped off at our house?
  • Does she remember the visits in a novel playroom?
  • Does she remember Ruth’s incessant chatter before each visit, and tears afterwards?

I don’t remember exactly what Payten said, I only know she didn’t mention the memories above.

I imagine she has created happy memories to keep her company throughout childhood.  When she gets old enough to ask questions, that will be when she learns the true reasons she was adopted.

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