A special kind of love

When I was 14-years-old, a girl at school knowledgably informed me that because I was adopted I wasn't as loved as all the other girls in my class and all of my life people have asked me why my sister and I look like such opposites.

While she's tall and slim with long straight golden blonde hair and big blue eyes, I'm a little on the short side and a lot on the cuddly side. My eyes are green and I have mass of dark curly hair that looks more like a psychotic bird's nest than a hairstyle.

At the tender age of five my sister was full of excitement when I was brought home, spending as much time with me as she could but six months down the line my mother asked her how she was enjoying her baby sister and with a simple honesty known only by youth she answered: "She's boring, she can't even ride a bike".

Thirty-three years on the same is true, I still can't ride a bike. But, it was when I was about 10-years-old and she was trying to teach me, that I can first remember wondering why we were so different, even though we lived under the same roof for all those years.

It was an illogical question to ask myself really because we had both known from as early as we were able to understand that we were adopted. It was explained to us in simple terms and was never an issue.

We were as loved and well cared for as any other child we had ever come across and although we'd been told about it, it was never brought up as a topic of discussion and we were never given any reason to even think about it.

While most of the world sees me as confident and outgoing, the reality couldn't be further from that impression. In truth, I'm riddled with insecurities and have a deep and foreboding fear of abandonment. No doubt a shrink would tell me that the root of my fear is based on my repressed issues with being adopted and that to deny it is merely a refusal to admit said repressed issue and a denial of my inner-self. And maybe they'd be right, but it's doubtful.

I think the truth is a little simpler. It's a fact, adopted or not, that we all have our insecurities, doubts and fears but when thoughts of abandonment enter my mind all I have to do is think about my mother, father and sister - my real family - and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I will never be alone in this world.

My parents have always been there for me through thick and thin. They've picked me up when I've been at my lowest and stood proud at my highest. They've remained constant despite my putting them though hell and back in my younger years and while I flew the nest as soon as I was old enough to do so, I'm blessed with the knowledge that home awaits me anytime I choose. People will come and go in my life - it's a given - but my family is a constant and my parents will stay around to haunt me long after they're gone - I know so, because my mummy told me so!

As for my sister, we've had our ups and down. Best friends until I was eleven and went off to boarding school, we were practical strangers for many years after that.

On my part I was convinced she was my parents golden child. I kept hearing about all her achievements - doing well at university and getting a good job with regular promotions - and couldn't help thinking how sickening it was that she seemed to be so perfect and composed, knowing exactly what she wanted from life and going and getting it while I was winging it, taking it day-by-day and often taking all the wrong turns.

My sister, on the other hand, was closer to home and kept hearing about me and my antics and thinking that so much concern (and oddly enough, pride) on my parent's behalf must mean that I was their preferred daughter.

It wasn't until one drunken night, long after I was fully grown, with a son of my own, that it all came out and we realised that each had our own misplaced envy and misgiving about the other.

The truth is, our parents have never played favourites; we both got a whole lot of love and a bucket load of tlc.

While being adopted has never really been an issue for me, it is something that crosses my mind every now and then and I have a natural curiosity about my background but I always thought my sister never even spared it any thought.

I found out that night that I was wrong. We have so much more in common than I would ever have dreamed and while we still don't see each other that often (what with living on opposite side of the world, and all) we share a bond that even blood sisters couldn't top.

I'd be lying if I said I'm not interested in finding out about my biological parents. I do one day want to find out more - apart from anything else, with a son of my own I really should have any relevant medical history at my fingertips - but I can honestly say I'm in no rush.

Contrary to popular belief, I don't feel any particular animosity towards them as I'm sure they had their reasons for not keeping me for themselves and if the truth be told, I'm proud of my biological mother for going through with the pregnancy in a time where unmarried pregnancies were so frowned upon - but the fact remains the only family that's important to me is the family I've shared my life with, and anything else is more-or-less, irrelevant.

Sitting here writing this, I have to have a little smile to myself as I think about the way people react when they find out I'm adopted. It's always one of two reactions; either they look really embarrassed and say they're sorry, before extricating themselves from the conversation as soon as possible, or they grin like the Cheshire Cat and say some variation or other of: "Oh wow, that's so cool!"

Neither response comes even close to being appropriate.

For a start there's nothing to be sorry about, it's not as if us 'adoptees' have some deadly plague, or anything, and as for being embarrassed, why? The person asking hasn't put there foot in it and most of us haven't the slightest problem with being adopted. There's nothing cool about it either; we're not some rare and exotic breed, we're just normal people.

It's amazing how many people want to know more but feel awkward asking questions.

There's no need; it's actually the best possible response. It would be odd not to be at least a little curious and at least that way you're not giving off the impression that there's anything wrong with being adopted.

Madonna, Jodi Foster, Lionel Richie, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, to name but a few - all members of an exclusive club that my parents first joined some 30 odd years ago.

It's a club that David Beckham, Paris Hilton and Gwyneth Paltrow are all thinking of joining. The only real difference is, when my parents decided to join, it wasn't to make a fashion statement, it was to give two babies, who would otherwise never have been given the chance, a truly great life.

As the saying goes: "You can choose your friends but you can't choose your family".

I beg to differ; my parents chose ... and as a result, my sister and I were blessed with the best damn parents any child could ask for - parents who couldn't have loved us more if we'd been their own ... But then again, we really are.