My mother is a realist, and she’s had biological and adoptive children, and she said it’s no different: No matter what, they’re putting a stranger into your arms. You don’t know them yet.
I dreamed about these moments, and I think I hoped I would have them, but you don’t know. So when the lucky break hits, it’s like being Cinderella and hopefully midnight doesn’t come.
I always assume I look better than I actually do. I’ll feel pretty good about myself when I leave the house, then I’ll see a picture and think, ‘Crap, I had no idea that’s what I was looking like.’
