Whose story is it?

Unlike many of my fellow adoption bloggers, I don't have the "obvious" factor at work in my public dynamic.  Quite the contrary in fact, since the Demie Diva resembles Diva Grandma and that side of my genetic makeup significantly.  There's little doubt when the three of us are together that we are three generations of a family.

Where I run into difficulty, however, is that the Demie Diva now is beginning to learn that she grew in her birthmother's tummy and in my heart.  And so, I'm wrestling with how to tell people that it's time - even when they are proud of our story...and they are - to quit saying "you do know she's adopted".

Part of my issue with this is that I am the parent of a special needs child, who is already identified as different because of her bracelet.  She has to stand out; it could, literally be a lifesaving difference.  I don't want her to stand out more, particularly as my nephew and soon-to-be niece are small brunet(te) versions of Diva Grandma and their mother and the Demie Diva is simply a blonde version of same. (I know the niece isn't born yet...trust me...I've met her parents...she'll be brunette.)

At what point does it become  your child's story?  The Demie Diva always, always identifies herself by her full name.  She lets me know WHAT she wants to hear of her story of when she was a baby in the state of her birth.  While I can add certain details - her birthmother's first name has worked its way in, for example - I am unable to delete a thing.  She has to hear about the drive, Daddy going back to her brothers, Diva Grandma coming, driving to my home state, Diva Grandpa meeting her and the Awesome Auntie and Analytic Uncle coming to the Diva Grandparents' home right away.  She KNOWS her story.  She can fill it in.

Is it hers yet?  I don't know.

I do know that it's time to quit telling people she is the child of my heart rather than of my genetics.  I just don't know how on earth to have that conversation with the Diva Grandma.