My nephews are adopted and I'm fond of telling them they're the most wanted-ass kids that ever existed. They were wanted by their birth mothers, who could have aborted but endured the discomforts of pregnancy to bring them into the world. They were wanted, desperately, by our family. When some idiot insinuates that my brother and sister-in-law are charitable for taking them in, we're like, bitch, puhlease, you're acting like we saved those kids, no. They saved us. Seven years of failed pregnancies and failed adoptions - these kids are a miracle. You think your parents celebrated the day you were born? Trust me, it was nothing like the joy we felt when we finally got to welcome these kiddoes to our family.

And compare that to the 50% or so of other kids who were just oops-babies, and yeah, adopted kids aren't charity cases.

(sorry, I know this wasn't the main point of your essay but it spoke to me)

Anyway, from one introvert who needs that Bukowski quote tattooed on her forehead to another, I loved your essay.