Lucky is a Complicated Word

"They're so lucky," are words that make most adoptive parents cringe. I know those who comment on how lucky Kiera and Matteo are mean well. They are excited that they are part of our family and their words acknowledge the reality that they do have more opportunity now. 

The problem with "lucky" is that it's a complicated word.  All four children, bio and adopted, are "lucky" they are part of a stable, loving family with the resources to provide them with what they need and a lot of what they want.  Why only two of them were born into this situation, I don't know.  Why were Oliver and Soren born to us and not to someone living in a war-torn country or addicted to alcohol or drugs?

Ironically, my adopted children are my two children whose lives have been the opposite of lucky, much more so than their siblings, whose true "luck" is overlooked.  Kiera and Matteo were born to mothers who couldn't take care of them and then were raised by intermittent caregivers (as loving as they all were, they were not permanent or consistent).  They did not choose to become part of our family anymore than Oliver or Soren did, yet they had to give up their language, culture and everything familiar to them to do so. 

Yes, all my children are lucky, but only two of them will be told this over and over again, and that's a problem. I never want Kiera or Matteo to think they must feel grateful to us for adopting them or that having a forever family makes up for the losses they experienced.  I also never want Oliver and Soren to think they're less lucky or that they should feel guilty for what they didn't lose.

The truth is that Chris and I are the lucky ones.  We're so lucky that these four amazing children are all ours.  I tell them that a lot.  When I'm cuddling with them or when I kiss their sleeping bodies goodnight before I go to bed, I tell them how much I love them and how lucky I am to be their mom.