Last night, I was headed up to bed when I walked by our family bulletin board (one of three, don’t judge!) when I noticed the juxtaposition of three different announcements, from three different families.  Two were high school graduation announcements, and one was a wedding thank you photo. The common denominator was me. Inspired, I snapped a quick photo on my phone.

I intended to write a different blog post (maybe two, rather ambitious considering we are leaving the country in a few days) this week, one about my brother, and that one is still forthcoming. For whatever reason, it kept getting put off and then I noticed the three announcements last night and that rare moment of lightning striking, shouting: “You must write about this NOW” occurred. So, here we are.

I posted the photo to Instragram and wrote that most people have one family, the one they are born into and raised by. Up until 2003, that was my story as well. And up until 2015, I had just two families. I hate the overwrought term “blessed” but I will say I feel very lucky indeed to have three families that love me, whom I love back. I love all three trees in their own, and different, ways. It is impossible for me to love the brother I grew up with and the brother I met only three years ago in the same way. Yet, I love them both. I would be devastated if anything were to happen to them or their families.

I am acutely aware of how rare this is in Adoption-Land. I told my bio brother N just this week that our story was a fairy tale, as far as adoptees are concerned. I will never, ever take any of my families for granted. All sides represented in my home, and in my heart.