I am adopted, and when a friend finds out, at first, he or she tends not to believe me.

"But you, your brother and your mother look so much alike!"

When I tell my friend my brother is adopted too, my friend gets nervous, asking a million-and-two questions about it, but unsure if it is a proper subject. I cannot speak for every adopted person, but most of the adopted people I know, including myself, don't mind talking about it.

We don't normally feel that someone gave us away; we feel special! My parents waited for years before they got me, and I still love hearing my mother tell the joyful tale of the day she got "the call" telling her about me. And I remember and love to tell my 12-year-old brother the day we got our second call. I have a baby book like other children, but to me, mine holds a world more! My mother filled it with stories of my first day home, how my father, then my grandfather, took me around to show me off. To me it is an honor and a special privilege to be adopted, and I always remember what I said to a boy in the second grade, when he made fun of me because I was adopted.

"Your mother got stuck with you, but my mother got to choose me!

So, ask on, I'd love to tell more of my stories.n