I was lying in bed this morning in the pre-dawn light, gazing at my son and thinking like a million women have thought before me, “Wow. I made that!” And then I remember that technically I didn’t. I didn’t contribute eggs or womb to the final product. But the final product is so much more than a complex collection of cells. He did not inherit those curls from me, but it is because of my care they hang soft and shiny in ringlets. He did not get that golden skin from me, but it is so golden and plump because of the care I give to his diet. And that’s the physical.
If I were not his mother would he still be obsessed with elephants? Would he laugh so much that in time that will effect the musculature of his face and therefore even how he looks. I have said before on the SMC Forum that I have searched and searched inside me for the missing piece, the regret that we are not biologically related and I can’t find it. It is just not there.
And on a less lyrical note, what helped me is understanding that unless you are going to clone yourself, it is very random what selection of your DNA you might pass on. Beautiful people have ugly kids, and brilliant people dumb ones. So even if I were not offended by the thought that an adopted child is less likely to be smart, there are no guarantees anywhere. The only reason I tried to conceive is because I thought it would be quicker and cheaper, which it would have been, if it had worked. I thank god everyday that it didn’t.