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As a child, I would sit in front of my mirror with the family photo album looking for any bit of similarity between my face and theirs. I didn’t know I was adopted then, and yet I understood that I didn’t see myself in their faces. 1/
I played it off as having all recessive genes. My parents never knew how deeply this bothered me, because from the point of view as a child, I felt crazy for it. 2/
When my son was born, he looked exactly like it. He’s 8 now, and it’s still a phenomenon I cannot wrap my head around. I find myself staring at him and digesting all his features that are mine too. 3/
