It is profoundly disturbing to imply that adopted kids should feel lucky to be alive, which is exactly how it felt every time my grandmother (or religion teacher, or other various and sundry well-intentioned commenters) spouted off some iteration of “your birthmother chose life.”

Liz Labacz's previous work for The Toast can be found here. “Sr. Mary Joan would like to see you in her office.” I was not a person who got called to the Disciplinarian office. Not to say I had never gotten up to any mischief, but I almost never got caught and had not, to my memory, actually done anything noteworthy recently. When I arrived, she asked me to sit. Sister and I knew…

This post brought to you by MyEvilTwin. The sixth graders were performing a hybrid version of The Nutcracker before Christmas break and the eighth graders, as basically the elder statesmen of the school, were going to help. Specifically, anyone with dance “training” was wanted to choreograph the various numbers. I’d had ballet lessons and wore pointe shoes, which apparently gained me enough cred to be assigned the finale - the “Waltz of the Flowers”…