Astrid
“Sweetheart, are you feeling alright?” My mother is concerned and probably questioning my sanity right now.
I can’t really blame her, though. Afterall I am the one who called her asking odd questions about my birth. Like, where was I really born? How old am I? Are you really my mother? That last one threw her for a surprise.
“I’m fine. I just want to know… Am I adopted? You can tell me the truth.”
“I spent 16 hours in labor pushing your gigantic head out of my v****a and you have the nerve to ask if you’re adopted?!” she sounds slightly offended. “Astrid, what is the deal with these questions? Are you feeling stressed?”
I feel a little bad making my mom worry about me, but ever since my visit to the Railridge hospital, I’ve been driving myself crazy with these questions. I
