"No, I don't have any darn baby pictures!"

The past few days have been pretty exhausting. I had to take CJ in to his pediatrician a couple of days ago, and they said he has acid reflux. He was crying after every meal as if in pain and after my mom witnessed it and told me I should get him looked at, I did. They prescribed him some medicine and it seems to be really helping. He is eating much better now and not screaming in pain after every meal. The downside is he HATES the medicine. I don't blame him. I tried it and it's disgusting. You'd think they could make it taste like the pink stuff every other kid gets, but it just tastes like nasty adult medicine. CJ screams, gags, spits and downright protests when I give it to him, twice a day. It kills me to see him so upset, but I figure a few minutes of crying twice a day is better than him hurting (actually it's like adult heartburn) all day. Of course, immediately after I found out what the problem was, I started wondering if I had this as a child. That's probably one of the hardest parts of being adopted. When things like this come up, I just don't know if it's something that "runs in the family." Just like when I was pregnant and had high blood pressure. Since I had had some contact with my older birth sister, I was made aware that that pre-eclampsia ran in the family. Every time I go to the doctor, I have to fill out a sheet asking me if me or any of my relatives sufferred from this or that. I often want to write "I don't know, and thanks for opening that wound again!" Of course, they are just trying to be thorough, but to someone with very little information to begin with, it's tough. It's just like those stupid school assignments where you have to put together a family tree, complete with baby pictures of yourself. I actually did one once where I just cut pictures out of magazines. My mom was a model, my brothers and sisters were politicians and such and my baby picture was the Gerber baby. I then wrote a story about being born in a castle as an heir to a throne. Hey, what was the teacher going to say? Was she going to fail me because I had no baby pictures and the only memories I had of being little included drugs and booze? I think the school system needs some sensitivity training in this area. Of course, the teachers were great, and I'm sure it's just a univeral assignment, but come on. In today's society, having a happy life story is more the exception than the rule. At least I was adopted then and could have a sense of humor about it. Think about how that sort of thing makes a foster child feel.