Once again, my four-year-old daughter has put an issue in front of my face that has forced me to rethink my usual stance. I was picking her up from daycare, with her baby brother in tow, and one of the moms made a comment to me about "how interesting the gene pool works - my daughter is so dark and petite, while my son is so big and blonde." I replied very casually, "That's because my daughter's gene pool is that of her birthparents. We adopted her."

Immediately after I spoke, my daughter hauled me away to the swings, and said she had a secret to tell me. I leaned down to listen, and she whispered in my ear: "I don't want to grow in Monica's tummy anymore. I want to grow in yours." I knew, of course, what she was trying to say -- "Shut up, Mom, I don't want everyone to know I'm adopted." I gave her a big hug and said, "I wish you grew in my tummy too, sweetheart, but Mommy couldn't grow you, and boy am I glad Monica could. I am so happy that we adopted you!" That seemed to be ok with her at the moment, and she proceeded to show me her latest feat-- how to swing standing up.

Obviously, I am proud of our adoption experience and love to talk about it openly with everyone. I also feel strongly that unless we adoptive parents DO talk about adoption openly and willingly, the secrecy and shame that still sometimes permeates the topic will never go away. However, children who have been adopted have the right to privacy, and privacy is not the same as secrecy. A secret is something that is kept from someone to whom the information pertains. Privacy involves sharing personal information only with people who have a relevant need to know. When a stranger asks if my daughter looks like her father, I answer, "No, she's much prettier than my husband." When I am asked whom my daughter resembles in our family, I answer, "No one, she has her very own look." Both of these responses are perfectly true. But with a question so pointedly aimed at my children's genetic makeup, I feel it is my responsibility to answer honestly, and with pride, the truth about her adoption. If I ignored (or agreed with) the woman's remark, my daughter could interpret that to mean that I am somehow uncomfortable with, or shameful of the truth.

Ideally, my daughter will be able to answer these questions on her own some day, however she chooses. But until that day comes, it is my responsibility as her parent to arm her with easy, truthful answers to the sometimes-intrusive questions she will be faced with. There will no doubt come a day when a playmate will ask her, "Why are you brown and your mom's white?" Although my goal would be for her to answer, "Because my birthparents are brown," I can't really imagine it being that simple. Adoption is a hard enough concept for adults to grasp, let alone children. She might choose to keep her adoption story private, or she might feel like sharing it with the world. Either way, it's her history to do with as she pleases. And she can swing standing up, too.

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Rebecca Gold is an adoptive mom and the author of "Till There Was You - An Adoption Expectancy Journal" (1998, Pineapple Press). Write to her with questions and comments at RebGold@aol.com or visit her website at http://members.aol.com/pynappress