Here's the thing.
Growing up, I always knew I was adopted. I can't remember having a talk about it, being sat down and told. It just was. Part of the very definition of myself. "My name is Valerie. I have blue eyes. I like to play piano. I'm adopted."
I never believed that I wasn't wanted. Not part of the makeup of this story. My parents always assured me that my birthparents had simply wanted me to have a better life, with two parents who could raise me right.
I guess that was what made me so sure that I wanted to place my own baby for adoption.
But there's always going to be questions. EVERYBODY has questions about themselves, their history, their roots, their genes. Adoption only amplifies those questions, because you don't have a lifetime spent around the same gene pool to answer some of the question instinctually.
So even though I have a relationship with some of my B-family, I still have questions. As I know my son will continue to have questions for me. Questions non-adopted people just don't even have to think about. This is just part of the life.