True Confessions of Two Adoptive Moms

Foster family

2007-07-30T00:36:00.000-07:00

We are so lucky to have ongoing contact with our son's foster family in Korea, via e-mail. When I met his foster mother in Korea I was hoping I would be able to convey to her our hopes of remaining in contact with her. At one of our meetings we were left alone in a room at the agency, and she promptly whipped out the photo album she prepared for us of our son's pictures, flipped to a certain picture and showed me where their e-mail address was printed on the back of the picture. I was so elated and thankful for this little interaction (and, side note: ticked that families - both foster and adoptive - are officially discouraged from keeping in contact without the 'help' of the agency).

When we write to them or send pictures, they reply quickly with gushing comments about how much they enjoy hearing about the little guy we all love; how handsome and sweet and smart he is. They have remembered both the birthdays he has had since he left Korea and have sent him a card on each occasion. From them, I have learned more about my son's personality when he was an infant. I've learned his nicknames - he had two, one that his foster mother preferred, and another that his foster father felt was more acceptable. :) Just little things like that.

This relationship is so important to me, and I desperately want to preserve it for my son's sake. It's another one of those things I day dream about: Taking him to Korea in a few years or so (age 6 or 8, perhaps), and having him run to his sweet foster mom and give her a big hug!

And then there are other times when I wonder if there is a downside to all of this. I mean, this contact with his foster family is filling a certain portion of the hole in my heart for the contact I don't have with his Omma. I don't think of his foster family as his 'real parents', but I do recognize them as wonderfully caring people who absolutely love him, and who knew him before his little life became quite so complicated. Back then he was a sweet Korean boy living in Korea, with a Korean name and a family that looked like him. They spoke to him in his native tongue and supplemented his formula bottles with barley tea and slept next to him on the floor at night and took him to see the sights of Korea as he snuggled in his foster mom's podaegi. In general, I would say he was cared for in a manner similar to many other Korean babies. He was just a normal Korean baby boy. I became frantic during 2006 when I didn't hear from them after one of the e-mails I sent; I was terrified that they had just decided not to respond any more. It turned out that the e-mail simply didn't go through properly, but before I figured that out, I was beside myself with saddness and fear that it was 'over' with them. They are ALL we have as far as links to his life in Korea and his infancy.

Sometimes I worry, though. He absolutely adores looking at their pictures and talking about them. I wonder how he will feel when he really truly understands that this beautiful family won't ever be *the* answer to his questions. I mean to take nothing away from them when I say that, as lovely as they are, they aren't his real parents (just as we aren't). I am concerned when I hear of adoptive parents who label all the parents in this manner:

"Mom"/"real mom" = adoptive mom
"Omma" = foster mom
"Tummy mommy" or "birth mom" = real mom/biological mom

I don't want my son to be devastated when he realizes that his beloved foster mom is not his Omma. Right now he enjoys hearing about his life in Korea. I know he wants to talk about it when he says, "Mama! Tell me a story!" (When I first started talking to him about his life, I would always say, "I'm gonna tell you a little story about YOU!" He would always giggle as he waited for me to start, and then listened very intently). I'm am careful to refer to his foster mother as "Mrs. ____", your foster mom who loves you and took care of you when you were a baby". And I add straight-out, "she is not your Omma. You were in your Omma's tummy and when you were born Omma loved you very much."

((Ugh, so convoluted. But he listens intently and I have no doubt he will understand sooner rather than later, because he is just that smart. It just breaks my heart to tell him this matter-of-fact story that, in reality, makes no sense)).

Anyway, I guess I say all this just to say that I hope I can help him understand all of this some day, and I hope that knowing his foster family, possibly (hopefully!) visiting them and having contact with them, might somehow enhance his life as an adoptee rather than make it even more confusing. And I do want to reserve a very special place for his real Omoni - - but that's so hard to do in this situation.....

(I feel a post about my insanity over the lack of openness coming on.....)

A grudge regarding a real problem

2007-07-23T06:19:00.000-07:00

I continue to feel so angry about the lack of access to information that occurs in international adoptive situations. I've never been one who enjoys secrecy or waiting for a secret to be revealed or surprises of any kind. Just tell me what's up, and I'll figure out where to go from there. The fact that someone in Korea knows information that ties my son to a certain (named, known) woman in Korea (his mother) is killing me. Don't misunderstand - I'm not begging for sympathy for myself...I guess I just have a huge axe to grind on my son's behalf regarding this secrecy as far as his own parentage and the circumstances surrounding his birth.

I've tried to write this post many times before and have stopped myself because it's too easy for me to sit here stewing and daydreaming about my private accusations against those who (apparently) don't feel that the children leaving Korea for a 'better life' deserve to know the intracacies of their own existances. I have so many questions about why things are this way.

Someone has a case file on my son's mother. Someone sat down with her, face to face, and talked with her on a minimum of one or two occasions - at least according to the dearth of info we do have, that must be true. Someone knows what she looks like, what her feelings were regarding her pregnancy (above and beyond the fact that she was "all alone with no one to confide in"*). Someone knows if she held her son in her arms. Someone knows if she said a prayer for him or kissed him or said anything to him. Someone knows if perhaps she never laid eyes on him and simply got up and walked out of the hospital after he was born. Someone knows her hopes and dreams for him and her 'real' reasons for following through with the adoption. Someone knows if she specifically wanted him to be adopted to the US, and if so, why. Whatever the answers are to these things unknown to me and my son, someone knows and holds the information captive in a file that will collect dust until the years have passed. Or perhaps the information was taken in but never transcribed to a file, and instead common phraseology was inserted in place of a real, individualized case history and added to the file as a bare-bones description of my son's mother and her emotions (again, see * above).

Some adoptive parent reading this might say, "Oh, that's so sad. They must not know anything about their son's mother. Thank goodness *we* have [x,y,z] information about our child's mother." I am not going to share what few details we have been given, but I've been in the adoption community long enough to know that we have at least what most other adoptive parents of Korean children have. And it's not enough. There is so, so much more to my son's life story and more to his mother's pregnancy, childbirth, and adoption experience than the few facts we have.

Maybe I'm being unreasonable. But what I think is unreasonable is this (seemingly) accepted custom of writing bland paragraphs of stetchy 'confidential background information' and passing them off as everything you are entitled to know about your (adopted) child....moreover, believing (I assume) that THIS is all the child has a right or a need to know.

I just feel so lost and yeah....angry about this. It's one of those situations where there are so many factors that come into play (real or invented by the system), that it's hard to sort out the 'mother's privacy' vs. child's-rights-to-information dilemma. Never in a million years would I want my son's mother to have an even worse existance simply by me having information about her and (yes) the ability to investigate her whereabouts (attempt to make contact) if I were that bold. It's so sad, because the truth is that I'm about as likely to do something to endanger my son's mother's privacy as she is to fly around the world and take her son back to Korea with her. It wouldn't happen. But someone, somewhere thinks the risk is so great that there must be no POSSIBILITY of my son having his hands on that information until 17++ years have passed. And because even the rules themselves and their rationales are shrouded in secrecy, I am left to assume that it is beneficial to someone, somewhere, for this 'custom' (of keeping everything top-secret unless both parties practically demand some shred of openness) to remain vital and in full force. Call me completely paranoid.

I know that my son's mother can check her file for our letters, pictures and mementos if she chooses (and is able!), but what about my (our) son? He gets nothing, NOTHING, unless his mother is in a position to take the brave step of contacting us (via go-betweens on both ends, of course). I was never encouraged to push for an open international adoption by the people I (unfortunately) paid to advise me on my end, and I'm betting my son's mother was never encouraged to share her life story or even dream of any contact with her son, by the people who were being paid to advise her. Everyone is left out in the cold. If only Adoption for Dummies had a game plan for achieving an open international adoption we could turn this whole trend upside down.

______

*Yes, this is a direct quote from our paperwork. I share this portion *only* because I know I have heard of and seen this exact phrase elsewhere (i.e. from other Korean children's 'confidential background information'). It's a tear-jerking phrase. One that I once thought actually meant something about my son's mother; something personal. The more I read the paperwork and think about this topic, I see that many of us (and our children) are given precious few personal, individual facts ("the birthmother" worked here, met "the birthfather" there, was "alone with no one to confide in". THE END) couched amongst emotion-inducing phrases that all add up to a bunch of.....very little information.

It is my dire hope that the mothers in Korea are someday going to be told (during the pre-relinquishment counseling) that their children will miss them and wonder about them just as they will miss and wonder about their children. That having a bit of contact with their child during his/her growing up years (or providing some personal information to their children during the relinquishment proceedings either via letter or case notes being opened, or ???) is likely not going to ruin their lives. It breaks my heart to think that at least some women are probably scared away from even inquiring about openness just by their social worker's implications, and the system itself.

If a book such as I Wish for You a Beautiful Life could be published from within the system, it is completely possible for items such as those letters or even a simple picture or any tiny bit of real, personal information to be passed on to (and passed between) mothers and the children they relinquish.

2007-07-09T06:30:00.000-07:00

Yesterday one of my co-workers came up to me with this sad story:

So...there's this girl my parents know who is pregnant with twin boys, and she's giving them up for adoption.

(me: raised eyebrows)

Yep. She had her rights terminated on her first child, and she knows she's gonna get these ones taken away, too.

(me: Why? Has she been abusive or.....? Does she want to try to make a plan to keep them?)

I don't know. All I know is that they have already told her that there is *no way* she is leaving the hospital with those babies, so she wants to find adoptive parents because she doesn't want them to go into foster care.

I could hardly think what to say first, but I think (hope) I made it clear that 1) I personally am not in the market for anyone's twins. I'm not sure why she told *me* this awful story almost with an air of if-you're-looking-to-adopt-again-I-know-where-you-can-get-a-baby. Strange since I have told anyone who will listen how much my thoughts on adoption have changed so much since we adopted our son. Blech. 2) This young mom doesn't seem to have the benefit of knowing all of her rights and what she can do to help herself if she has any thought of keeping her baby boys. I mentioned a couple of resources for her to look into.

____

If I had the courage, patience, time, and compassion, I would love to be a foster parent. I think I would be a half-way decent one, especially for cases where the goal was family reunification. Actually, the more I started thinking about myself in that role, I realized that what I would really like would to be able to mentor young women who don't have anyone to show them that they CAN be good moms...to help them prioritize and make plans for their futures and help them learn how to manage a family and all that entails....

I'm not super-mom, by any means. But I do have a heart for young women who seem to have no other 'fate' than to follow in the footsteps, as mothers, of the moms who didn't take good care of THEM. And that is just so sad. Sometimes all people need is a little empowerment, a hefty dose of encouragement, and someone to believe in them.

And God knows, I have a heart for families to stay together whenever possible. Having rights terminated not because one was abusive but just because someone didn't quite 'have her act together' sounds to me like not a 'hopeless' situation as far as her ever mothering any child. It sounds, rather, like a young mom who would be able to raise her children if she had someone to show her she could do it.

______

Meant to Be

2007-06-14T05:13:00.000-07:00

I've never said my son was 'meant to be' part of our family. I have a hard time even considering it in my most private thoughts. Saying that he was meant to be with us sounds an awful lot like saying he was meant to lose his parents, his roots, his culture, his language, his Korean citizenship. No matter how I could try to slice it (rationalize), I just don't, can't, and won't believe it.

The meant-to-be conversation about adoption occupies a lot of my quiet thoughts, nonetheless, because acknowledging that my son wasn't meant to lose everything and wasn't necessarily meant to be my son, means that, since he has indeed been relinquished and adopted, he is currently (and is henceforth going to be) living a life he wasn't meant to live.

Doesn't it?

What does that mean for him? For my relationship with him (and by that I mean what are my responsibilities specific to this concept)? These are the questions I struggle with. I care relatively little about whether or not APs say 'gotcha day' or whether or not they circumcize their children, or whether or not they feed their babies peanuts at age 1 or age 3. When it comes to adoptive parenting, I'd much rather learn about these concepts that are bound to be all-consuming - - for my son, 'who am I?' and for me as his adoptive mother, 'how can I best support you?'

As a child, my thoughts would sometimes wander in daydreams such as what would it be like if they told me I was adopted? Maybe my real parents are gorgeous/handsome rich folks who spend their days traveling the world (going to every exciting destination, of course) with their children. Maybe I'm meant to be living in a mansion. Maybe I would have 20 Cabbage Patch Kids and plenty of Jordache jeans and charm necklaces, like my friend Nikki. Maybe I would live near the ocean instead of in the boring old midwest. My little fantasies were interesting to ponder, but in the end I had the security of knowing that I was pretty much right where I belonged ~ or at least that there was no real possibility that I ever had a chance of being anywhere else. It was pretty obvious that I was meant to be in the family I was being raised in. And that reality was comforting.

I feel like there is just no way that I can provide that security of knowing you are where you belong, for my son. When he so much as looks in the mirror, his own reflection will tell him that he is not where nature apparently intended him to be. I struggle with it. While many of my fellow adoptive parents are somehow able to claim they forget which of their children is adopted, I still, after almost two and a half years, hold my son in my arms and when I look into his eyes I am only filled with questions. Who are you? Who are you/were you meant to be? What can I do to show my love, my support, my commitment, even though it's possible that we are not meant to call each other 'son' and 'mama'? How can I help you feel that sense of security that *I* had as a child, that sense of belonging where one is - when, in my mind, you are a sweet baby boy who is meant to be growing up in Korea with your Omma?

And what shall I tell him in the future? "You were meant to be a part of our family" isn't working for me right now as any kind of concession for everything that has been taken from him.

Confession of an adoptive dad

2007-05-01T22:52:00.000-07:00

I'm so lost right now. There isn't a good way to ease into this topic, so I'll just get started...and by the way, this is the short version - since I've already spent hours trying to compose this post tonight with just the right words to accurately convey the sentiment, only to have it eaten by the cyber monster.

Last spring and summer we realized we needed to make some decisions about our family size. It turns out that we both felt that we would love to have another child. A second adoption was considered, but we have so many reservations about it now. We chose to have another biological child. As a few of you know, that endeavor ended abruptly when our baby died in utero nearly half-way through my pregnancy.

Fast-forward a bit - I've been periodically asking my husband if he thinks we should try to have another baby. He always seems thoughtful, but in the end just replies, "I don't know....". I have assumed that perhaps he is still at a point of grieving that he can't really give it full consideration, or that he is afraid of another loss - that is, the loss of another baby. Well, the topic came up again tonight, and all of a sudden, out came the truth. I'm surprised - at his sudden candor, afraid - that his fear could be legitimate, and completely taken aback (shocked) - at the finality...the conviction he voiced:

I'm afraid it would be a boy. If the baby were a boy, he would look like me. I mean, regardless of how much he actually resembles me, I would have one son who doesn't look like me and one son who does look like me. People would comment on that in a round-about way and they would probably assume that I loved him more and that he was more of a 'real' son to me than [our son's name]. I just couldn't stand to hear, 'Oh, he looks so much like you!' I just love [son's name] so much and I feel like I am developing such a strong relationship with him and if I then had a son who looked like me, it would ruin everything. I never want [son's name] to think that I want any other son or that I have some need to have a biological son. So, that's it....that's why I don't know if I want you to
have another baby....I never want any other son. [son's name] is my son.

(Okay, please don't judge!) If nothing else, I would be thankful that he didn't waste any more time thinking that he couldn't share these feelings - regardless if they had any merit. But the truth is, this validates the secret thoughts I had the whole time I was pregnant...what will we do if it's a boy?

It would ruin everything?

I never want another son?

Well, that's pretty much how I feel about it, too, come to think of it. Don't ask me why this wasn't on the radar last spring/summer - before I was pregnant.

So now what.

heavy heart

2007-04-18T21:09:00.000-07:00

My son's foster family has been occupying my thoughts, as we have been in contact with them again this week. I may have a post brewing about the connections between these families and the children they foster, and adoptive parents' perceptions of foster relationships - but this week, in particular, doesn't seem like the right timing for me to attempt that topic.

Instead, I want to join my thoughts and prayers with those of you who have spoken out on injustice and tragedy this week, though I don't have anything profound to add to the discussions.

Margie has compiled a list of posts that address the injustice that has come to light regarding the custody of Evelyn Bennett. I continue to hope and pray that the deceitful, unethical practices that created this situation will be recognized by the courts (or by the people who have custody of baby Evelyn), and that she will be returned to her family without further delay.

Jae Ran has a sobering post regarding the aftermath of the Virginia Tech shootings. I have no words, just a heavy heart, for all affected by this horrendous tragedy - including Korean/Korean American community.

Education

2007-04-09T20:44:00.000-07:00

These days I wouldn't recommend an AP-centered adoption discussion forum to those curious about adopting. However, for anyone who is interested in adoption ethics, I think perusing them on a regular basis is a good idea, for an almost-complete education in 'What's Wrong With Adoption'. I've been stewing about several comments on one such forum since last week. These really aren't anything new...it's just that they pop up right when I think progress is being made as far as wider discussions about adoption.

There is a post from last week that I would love to copy and paste here, but it's lengthy - so I'll just quote a few portions of it that I have continued to stew about since I first read it. It's so sad (beside the point that this in-your-face-toned 'bomb' was dropped into a decent discussion about whether we know as much as we think we do about adoption. From one who, apparently, knows everything she needs to know...)

We chose international adoption for several reasons. One reason that played a big part in our choice was the view that birthmothers should have the "right" to an open adoption. While many adoptive parents feel comfortable with this, we did not.

No offense to my cyber-friends/acquaintences who may have initially chosen international adoption because of real or perceived/feared issues with the US domestic adoption system, but when I hear of folks choosing international adoption as a way around dealing with 'birth'parent issues, it hurts. I guess because when I think of 'birth'parents....well, I don't actually...I think of my son's mother! When people 'in the process' prance into a discussion and declare their willfull choosing of international adoption for its benefit of 'no birthparents', they are in effect stating that they have a certain disregard for the mother and father of the child they may adopt, and for the child, as well. I guess, even though I can only hope to meet my son's Korean mother some day, I still view him as an extention of her; in my mind they are connected in a meaningful, important way. People love to make this a simple issue of 'some people are comfortable with this, and some are not.' What a tired old cliche has become in the world of waiting-to-adopt (and post-adoption)! Accepting, fully accepting, the fact that an adopted child has biological/natural/first parents should not be optional. It can't be brushed aside as something that some people can 'handle' and others can't.

I'll just throw this next quote in because it shows a little more of the author's perspective/intentions:

People that constantly have to announce they feel a loss for their child that they gave up should not make those who feel a gain for the child they are raising feel guilty. We are the parents. We understand the love you had to have in order to do what you did.

More:

As I stated earlier we are about to become parents. The only thing different is that we are using adoption as our means to becoming parents. It is not what will define our child or us.

"Using." Interesting choice of words.

Yes, she will know she is adopted. Yes, we will celebrate her country, entertain her questions, take trips and fill her life with those of her heritage.

So vague and non-commital, yet sadly it is still seen as the recipe for success. I would love to be able to 'celebrate', 'entertain', take trips, and 'fill [my son's] life' with every good thing. That still won't make the brokenness of adoption 'whole' again.

I would like to point out that as a future parent (through the means of adoption) there is a vast amount of education expected by our agency. We even have had financial checks, psychological status checks, background history, police checks, home inspections, and both required reading and parenting classes to continue in the process. We have had every aspect of our marriage and social relationships questioned and recorded. Our education on this event is not lacking as you kindly inplied.

__

The GREATLY-FEARED.....mongolian spot.

2007-03-17T20:24:00.000-07:00

I always end up with sparks shooting out of my ears whenever adoptive parents' cyber-discussions turn to the topic of Mongolian spots (look here for the technical-speak; good picture at bottom of linked page). I'm tired of them being talked about as something to be concerned about, something to cover up; a fear-inducing blemish that can't fade fast enough. You know, I'm not sure exactly how Korean parents feel about their children's Mongolian spots- perhaps they, too, hope for them to fade quickly for all I know. Regardless, there's something just not right about white adoptive parents bringing children from racial backgrounds in which Mongolian spots are prevalent, into a country where it is more likely that someone will be ignorant about said spot(s)....and then wishing for them to fade away quickly so that the Mongolian spot(s) combined with the ignorance won't cause any trouble. Arrrrgh!

We white adoptive parents of children with Mongolian spots are advised to have these bluish-pigmented spots documented to the Nth degree (pics included) in the medical record. We are also advised to carry a copy of all this documentation with us AT ALL TIMES. In addition, we should show our kids' spots to all their caregivers (and anyone else who might ever glance upon their sweet little backsides), carefully explaining what a Mongolian spot is (so the ding-dongs we trust around our children won't report us for suspected child abuse immediately upon seeing the 'bruises'). Is this normal protocol in countries where the majority of the folks actually know what a Mongolian spot is? Is it normal protocol for people who are parenting their biological children? I detest the fact that this is even an issue. An accusation of child abuse is monumental, in and of itself, but if such accusation were to find its crux in such utter ignorance (sometimes more like stupidity) - well, that possibility just angers me to no end.

I'm a mandated reporter (of suspected child abuse). I understand the rationale for such laws, and of course I believe in measures that would reduce or eliminate child abuse. I understand that mandated reporters are not perfect, nor are they expected to make any sort of inquiry if they have minimal reason to suspect abuse - - I get that. But good golly, a Mongolian spot looks absolutely *nothing* like a bruise - right from the most cursory glimpse by the most untrained eye. So, regardless of the good intentions of the mandatory reporting laws, I don't think anyone who doesn't know what a Mongolian spot looks like should be allowed to be a mandated reporter. Child abuse damages children...hell yea...but so do false accusations of abuse...and so does being forced to bare one's backside to 'educate' all the ignorant madated reporters before they have a chance to report.

I have not completely followed this list of suggestions meant to protect myself from allegations. My son's doctor didn't say a word about the Mongolian spots when he examined him (as it should be, in my opinion - even the nurse's aide commented on them as a 'birthmark'). In fact he was so unconcerned about them that I had to ask him to document them in the chart, which he did - though he didn't seem to think it was truly necessary. And that is the extent to which I've gone to 'protect' myself. I figure that I'm helpless against determined ignorance, anyway (as was proven by the complete nutball that verbally and physically attacked an AP last summer when nutball noticed the 'bruised'-and-crying baby riding in a shopping cart at the local grocery store), so I don't spend my days and nights worrying about it. I understand why adoptive parents of kids with Mongolian spots might be concerned, even worried or fearful about being suspected of abuse. But for me it just doesn't jibe to have white parents wishing the spots away because they are surrounded by people to fear (other white people!).

I know this much: a Mongolian spot is an extremely common birthmark. It looks nothing like a bruise. The fact that measures are not taken to ensure that ALL mandated reporters know what Mongolian spots are, is unacceptable. My son is not going to bear the humiliation of Mongolian spot show-and-tell so that dumb people can oooh and ahh and cringe and gasp over him. In my workplace it is likely that soon enough, we will have inservices with updated information about the laws and discussions about mandatory-reporting scenarios. When that happens, I will be happy to present a session about differentiating Mongolian spots from bruises. I will never wish for my son's spots to fade quickly. However long they last (or remain prominent), I will not give my son any reason to think that he should be worried about or ashamed of this natural pigmentation which commonly manifests within people of his race.

Snippets of a run-on thought

2007-03-12T21:37:00.000-07:00

My little guy has been sick for a few days now. Little viral demons attacking our house again, I suspect, creating the nasty runny nose and cough and frighteningly high fevers. After he awoke from his nap one late afternoon, he was clingy and still-tired, and I asked him if he wanted to stay with me while I started making supper. In his scratchy, weak little voice, he says,

"Ba-pack".

Riding in his podaegi has been a comfort to him as long as I have known him - and before, I assume. I noticed in Seoul that many of the younger moms transport their babies in the latest and greatest strollers, but in pictures of my son out and about with his foster mom, he is always riding contentedly on her back in one of several podaegis. The first time I saw his sweet face, he looked at me from that same safe vantage point - tucked away against the warm, strong comfort of his beloved foster mother's back. So on this particular afternoon, I put my nurse-mom judgment out of my mind (strapping him to my body is not likely to help the fever issue), and do what seems best for his tired little body and spirit. He perks up a little when he sees his 'ba-pack' and then just as quickly lets himself relax and just 'be' - resting his head on my back, and his body against the strong, quilted fabric.

I allow myself the fleeting, obnoxious, pathetic fantasy that I can somehow turn back time. That I can give to him what has been taken away. I let myself find the tiniest bit of solace in thinking that perhaps this soothing relic of from his infancy has somehow found its way into a different time and place....this little boy's different life.

____________________

This past weekend I began and finished reading Jane Jeong Trenka's beautiful memoir, The Language of Blood.

I had feared reading this book for such a long time. I don't remember exactly where, but at some point I got the idea from comments here and there that for an AP to read this book would be incredibly damaging; something one would only do if already contemplating suicide.

I'm horrible at book reviews, so I won't even attempt. All I can say is that I was sucked in to this memoir right from the beginning. I chuckled in several parts at the details of life in the midwest (going off on my own little mental trips back in time). I felt angered at life's injustices - Jane's losses, and my son's. I cried. My husband picked up the book and started reading it page after page, pausing at the very parts I had also found especially poignant. Memories of our trip to Korea (an altogether too short trip almost two years ago) overwhelmed me again. This is an absolutely beautifully-written book and I am sorry that I waited so long to read it.

_____________________

"We plan to return to Korea someday when our children are older."

If I had a dime for every time I have heard this statement, I would have enough money to jet myself and my son across the ocean with satisfying frequency. Okay, maybe not quite that often, but a lot, nevertheless. What's worse is that I, too, have proclaimed that we will 'return to Korea someday when our son is older'. I meant it, but still it has been nothing more than one of those vague ideas that is so far in the future that you don't plan for it. And we all know what happens when you want to do something but don't plan for it today, or tomorrow, or the next day. You wake up 5, 10, 20 years later and realize you've never done that one thing that you were always so determined to do.

So, this week I am opening up an account which will receive our monthly deposits/investments for the Korea travel fund. I've determined the amount of money that needs to be deposited each month in order for us to be able to take our first trip back to Korea within the next 3 years - and it is really such a small amount that it won't even be missed out of our budget. This is a promise I have made to myself and to my son and I will *not* 'wake up' 15 years from now and find myself sitting here repeating the same, tired, old, never-kept promise.

About dolls and paying attention

2007-03-04T22:57:00.000-08:00

Well. I think my brain went to oatmeal last week after reading a few of the blog entries in adoption-related circles. There are a couple of ideas that I probably need to think through, but - and I say this rarely - I don't think I can right now. Pondering hypotheticals and theories about adoption reform is something that has been very enlightening as I've tried to process the facts and feelings related to being an adoptive parent (or raising an adoptee), but I'm also realizing that there are plenty of little every-day issues that I also need to spend my energy on...

Such as the quest for a cute baby doll with at least half-way realistic Asian features. I realize that countless parents have struggled with this before me, and written about it, too - so nothing new or profound, here; I just wanted my turn to vent. My son is 2.5 right now, and he is really into playing with a doll. He likes to carry one around, change its diaper frequently, throw it (literally) into his crib for a nap, sing 'rock-a-bye baby' to it, sit it at the counter for lunch, cuddle it, sleep with it, and sometimes toss it down the stairs. He has a truly adorable 'Korean' plush doll, but of course that doll stays in his crib all the time and he's not really interested in playing with it - he would rather have his sister's soft-vinyl, more realistic-looking doll - with caucasian features. As much as I love watching him play Mr. Mommy, quite frankly I'm sick of him walking around with this pasty-white, bright blue-eyed doll. Every time I think of taking a picture or video of him (I'm getting ready to send a package to his foster family), I'm embarrassed just at the thought of them thinking that the poor little guy doesn't even have a doll that looks remotely like him.

This isn't my first attempt at finding him a doll - all the previous times I spent hours browsing online and became frustrated and finally gave up. I realize what a dangerous pattern I've gotten into: Think about something, want to do it, want it to be perfect, realize it can't be, give up. I hate so much to admit this or to even dare to put it in writing, but constantly thinking and reading about what adoption should be (or the suggestion that maybe we should scrap everything we know about family and start over with some other paradigm for raising children) and at the same time can't be....worrying about and wanting to perfect real life has just about zapped every last functioning brain cell I ever had (at least that's how I feel right at the moment).

Anyway, my doll requirements are quite simple, or so I thought: I want one with realistic features (though I don't know that we necessarily need to tackle the 'anotomically correct' realism right now...), realistic skin tone (this rules out all the dolls with dark brown 'almond'-shaped eyes and white-white skin....grrr), realistic eye shape (this rules out all the 'asian' dolls with great big round brown eyes....grrr), soft vinyl material, and a nice overall size - this rules out the gorgeous doll I saw online tonight, which is all of 9.5" total, and another very nice doll that is a whopping 22" total. Can't there be a happy medium for goodness' sake?

Funny. Despite having a 4-yr-old daughter, I've never been able to get into doll shopping. I've never cared too much about dolls, period (excepting a brief period in elementary school when I was the *only* kid without a Cabbage Patch Kid for the longest time....my mom wanted to *make* me one. Yeah. Probably one like those homemade ones that, amazingly enough, were even uglier than the real ones. I cried and cried and sulked and finally my grandma had pity on me and bought me a real CPK). After that, I was done with dolls. Most of them are pretty freaky-looking (as in, the kind with 'dolls eyes' that open and close and scare the crap out of you when you pick the doll up and the eyes pop open....gives me the shivers just thinking about it) and completely fake-looking. Their little clothes are annoying. Their accessories are numerous and of poor quality. And now here I am stressing about a 10" vs. a 14" vs. a 21" doll...vinyl body vs. soft body...boy parts vs. gender neutral...

It's not that my son should not play with a caucasian-looking doll, but that he shouldn't have to play with one, for lack of other choices. For that matter, my daughter shouldn't be expected to play with a caucasian-looking doll, either. I've already failed Parenting 101 by not having a selection on hand even when she was younger...so, by the end of the day today, I will have ordered a variety of dolls for them to play with. And as much as I love browsing and reading all the fabulous adoption-related blogs out there, I need to portion out my time and attention and mental energy a little better so that I'm not missing the things that are right in front of me; and trust me, there are plenty even though I wish it weren't so.

Choosing words carefully

2007-02-25T19:20:00.000-08:00

Many times I have begun to talk to my son about his birth and his life before he met us, and come up empty as far as the right words. Adoptive parents frequently talk about the fact that we want to keep lines of communication open with our children, and with regard to their adoptions, we want them always to know their beginnings and how they came to be in our families. Paula brought all of this to mind again last week with her post, When is Too Young? ** Her post was a good reminder and a (gentle!) kick in the pants for me.

It's not that I haven't made any previous attempts at this - it's that every time I say anything to my son about his birth, his Omma, Korea, his foster family, I immediately sense that whatever I'm saying is just plain inadequate. I am very enthusiastic about the idea of making it possible for these discussions to be a regular occurrence in our family, but when it comes right down to it, it seems like another instance where I have good intentions, but then quickly realize that I can't possibly do justice to the actual task at hand.

Right now my little guy is only 2 years old. I've been murmuring his story to him as we rocked or snuggled together almost since he came to live with us. Many times I just ramble on while he listens quietly, sometimes he seems very interested and wants to talk. This is a snippet of what went on several months ago:

[snuggling in bed at night]

Mommy: Did you know that you were born in Korea?

Baby brother: [big smile] ME!

M: Yes! You were born in Korea.

B: OH! ME! [points to self, nods, does little squirmy-happy dance]

B: Tum-tum? Mama? [pats my abdomen]

M: No - you weren't in Mama's tum-tum; you were in your Omma's tummy - your Mommy in Korea - your Omma.

B: Om-MA! ME!

M: Yes!

B: Born? [still smiling]

M: Yes! You were in your Omma's tummy and then you were born.

B: Choi?*

M: No....Mrs. Choi* is not your Omma. But you lived with Mrs. Choi when you were baby, and she loves you very much, too.

[Can I say confusing?! And also here is where I get all tongue-tied about how I am going to make the connection between Omma and Mrs. Choi.]

B: OH! [smiling] ME! LOVE! ME - HAT!

[he loves the pictures of him riding in his foster mom's podaegi, and he is always wearing one of several cute baby caps in the photos]

M: Yes - Mrs. Choi took good care of you when you were a tiny baby, and she gave you a hat.

B: ME! GO! CHOI!

M: Yes! We will take you to Korea soon - in a few years - and we will take you to visit Mrs. Choi.

[mentally slapping self for making promises I only hope I can keep. Not so much the trip itself, but the possibility of not being able to meet with his foster mother]

B: OH! Thank you, Mama! ME! GO! ...............

So, that isn't too exciting (well, you can see it was exciting for my son, hence the ALL CAPS) or too difficult. I haven't included other, more difficult (for me) conversations, because I fear being criticized (sorry!). Still, I think all of this is of utmost importance, so here I go. Have pity on me and give me some suggestions. I'm talking word-for-word, if you don't mind. What do I do when we get to the hard parts? These are some things I've actually said, for better or worse:

"Your Omma loves you very much"

"You were such a handsome and sweet baby! Your Omma loves you very much. But, when you were born, your Omma did not know if she could take care of a baby." (I have also added, at times, "....your Omma was sad because she didn't know if she could take care of you...her baby."

"Your Omma thought it might be a good idea for you to come and live with Mama and Papa."

I don't know. I want to be completely honest (hard to do when I don't know all there is to know about the situation), I don't want to project my feelings into the conversation, I don't want to assume I know how his mother might have felt (but I almost can't help myself in saying that she was sad and that she loved him), most of all I don't want to say anything patronizing or disrespectful when talking about his mother.

I'll leave it at that, for now. Critiques, and especially suggestions, welcome.

*****

*The little guy can't pronounce "Mrs." yet, so he refers to his foster mother by her last name only (yikes!). Also, her real name is not used in this blog.

**Ugh- I see I can't get embedded links to work tonight - here is the link for Paula's post:

http://heartmindandseoul.typepad.com/weblog/2007/02/ive_been_on_a_l.html

The money.

2007-02-19T22:52:00.000-08:00

Most adoptive parents are never going to admit that they 'bought a baby'. Many can't conceive of the idea that a child would actually be used as a commodity in the world of adoption. I do feel sad for adoptive parents who have just begun to conceptualize the reality of adoption as a money-making industry because, while there certainly are some people who would not bat an eye at willfully paying whatever large sums of money were demanded in order to get a child, there are many of us out there who are being/were bamboozled by agencies' explanations of 'adoption expenses'.

I'm not going to go off on a tangent about how 'vicitimized' adoptive parents are - but I do think that those of us who have spent a decent amount of time considering adoption ethics should be willing to show potential adoptive parents that we/they, too, are being used by agencies in various ways - to the end of financial profit. I think the manner in which agencies explain away the money/'adoption fee' aspect is one aspect of international adoption (and domestic adoption, for that matter) that we should make sure to discuss with potential adoptive parents. There are plenty of people considering US domestic adoption who (not because they are greedy or inherently evil) haven't even considered that they should never agree to pay expenses for (or directly to) a woman who is considering adoption, for example. They don't understand why, when agencies present it as a matter of 'need', it is 'wrong' to comply. As much as I have complained about certain AP behaviors, I think it is really only fair (and compassionate) to try to understand that one can not possibly know about the maneuvers of adoption agencies until one has experienced it or has the good fortune of participating in a fairly in-depth discussion about ethical practices. Instead of always claiming that people should 'know better' - we have to understand that society sets up agencies who 'help children' as being about as close to an altruistic institution as anything could be - so the average unsuspecting potential AP really has no reason to think otherwise; it's just not common knowledge.

As for me, as I've said in the past I started the adoption process with the idea in mind that there were children who needed homes, and that adoption agencies today were operating out of largely 'altruistic' intentions of helping children in need. Therefore, unfortunately it didn't strike me as being unreasonable to off-set the costs of providing for those needs by the way of paying adoption fees. Back then, it was all part of the package that was supposed to be about providing and helping and doing good. I believed that whatever fees I paid were directly related to defraying the expenses of providing day-to-day care and medical care for my son over the course of seven months. I can't bring myself to declare with any certainty that any individual agency representative in Korea acted out of greed, but these days it is just not easy for me to justify the costs of international adoption - and even if I don't accuse any one individual, there is little doubt left in my mind that there is an industry at work. Other countries' fees confound me even more than those levied by the Korean agencies -but I'm not here to claim that one amount is okay and another is over-the-top....the point is that if a country genuinely can *not* care for its own 'needy' children, then simply having someone else take financial responsibility for those children should be the only 'profit' of an international adoption (and even that concept has its own very real problems) - but that is not what is actually occurring.

Some international adoption agencies say that some of my money is used to help other needy children that will not be placed for adoption. Again, in the beginning that sounded good to me. Until I realized that the bottom line of that concept is that some children are, in effect, used, for the benefit of others (if in fact that claim is true). I was willing to pay to adopt my son....multiply by 1,000 or so, and a country can better afford to care for some of its needy children. So IA must continue in order that all the children will be provided for? Honestly I don't understand all of these concepts, and I highly doubt that I could ever get my hands on an itemized break-down of the fee that my US agency paid (my money) to my son's Korean agency, but it still doesn't all add up, to me.

People who consider international adoption might ask questions about the fees. Instead of giving the good ol' (defensive) stand-by response ("It doesn't cost any more than what you would pay for medical care for a pregnancy, birth, and newborn care if you didn't have insurance..."), let's encourage people to question their agency about the fees and to really consider whether they are 'okay' with paying thousands of dollars related to adopting a child. Also, we can encourage them to consider (or reconsider) the US adoption tax credit which refunds nearly $11k worth of paid taxes to a US couple or single AP who adopts (domestically or internationally). So, a government that could not afford to help a mother take care of her own child, can afford to help someone else take care of that same child.

Any insights or other thoughts, anyone?

What If...

2007-02-12T23:31:00.000-08:00

Dear [B.O.] birth-Omoni,

Anyeong Hasseo! Thank you for taking the time to read all about our [perfect] life as you consider what is best for your baby. We know how hard this must be for you, and we want to thank you for being such a selfless and courageous person by choosing life and by allowing your baby to come to America! [Now we hope you will choose us!]

We are Jimbo and Trudie [two white folks who hope to become ‘color-blind’]. We have been happily married for many years and have one child of our own [and we hope to make your child our own too!]. We both have great jobs – Jimbo is a world-renowned brain surgeon, and Trudie is a school-teacher who just completely adores all kids but will be quitting her job if we are able to adopt [just because she can] so that she can [show off her Korean baby to all the snobs] devote herself completely to her children’s every need. We have a gorgeous home and a multitude of wonderful friends. Our families [secretly think we are crazy and are afraid we won’t have any more real children and can’t remember if we are trying to adopt from Japan or China] can’t wait to [see an Asian up-close] meet and welcome another child into the family.

We can have more children of our own, but we feel called to adopt because we have heard all about the plight of [the poor Korean] children in your country and it just breaks our hearts like you can’t imagine! [We would try to rescue a needy American child, but the B.M.s have waaaaay too many rights over here and we couldn't stand to have our hearts broken if one somehow manages to keep her baby! Besides, we feel a special connection with Korea]. We have so much respect for your strength of character in choosing an international adoption plan. [Every child deserves a loving family!]

In our family here in America, your baby will have a great life [we have the best of everything over here!]. We are really excited about becoming Korean-Americans and have already started collecting Asian things so that your child will feel at home here. We [can mangle several words in Korean] are learning the language as well. We are in awe of the [strange and exotic] rich traditions of your country and are excited to experience some of them through this great blessing of adoption – we plan to try out chopsticks first! [And say things like “anyeong hasseo!” whenever we see anyone who looks Asian - - woo hoo this is sooo cool!] We are even planning on getting ["hand-bocks"] hanbok for our whole family [won't Halloween be fun!].

If you pick us to receive this most precious of gifts, we will have your baby escorted [right to our own doorstep, since we are afraid we might accidentally eat dog meat if we traveled to Korea and we are also terrified of being surrounded by Korean people everywhere] to America. We plan to return to your beautiful country when your child is old enough to really appreciate it [riiiiight].

We are so thankful to be able to give you this glimpse into our heart for adoption. Writing this letter is the hardest thing we have ever done and we hope [you choose us!] it will help you move on with your life and have peace in knowing that you have given your baby a chance at a better life. We would be so [proud] honored to [call ourselves do-gooders]/[get a Korean baby] give your baby a forever family.

Sincerely,

[two CWPAPs wishing upon a star]

Jimbo and Trudie

No big deal?

2007-02-08T10:12:00.000-08:00

What are adoptive parents saying when we say, “biology doesn’t matter to me at all” - when we declare this idea (while projecting complete conviction) that biological ties to people in our lives are of absolutely no importance?

I find it a very curious statement, at best – especially when most of those who make these comments have a least one or two, if not tens or even hundreds of biological connections in their lives. The world is literally made up of people who have biological connections – and for the vast majority of folks, these connections are present in on-going, every-day relationships. So how is it that some of us can so easily disregard the significance of being connected to life in such a way?

In adoptive-parent circles, we are usually discussing whether or not we love our children by adoption as much as we love (or would have loved) our children by birth – and since we feel that we couldn’t possibly love our adopted children any more than we already do (i.e. even if we had given birth to them or were biologically related to them) we write off ‘biological connection’ as if it is some strange, backward concept that people make way too big a deal about.

By the way, I think these proclamations about biology also shine the light of truth on adoptive parents’ excitement over surprise sibling referrals. Because if biology is of absolutely no meaning to us, then these highly-desired surprise sibling referrals are of no more significance than ‘getting’ another child, everything else be damned. Actually, maybe biology is completely meaningless to some APs – because if it weren’t, we would ALL realize that, when sitting around and hoping, praying, and wishing upon a star for our coveted “sibling calls”, we are actually wishing horrible misfortune upon our beloved children’s biological mothers.

Mostly I see people alleging the insignificance of biological connections in attempt to validate adoptive-family structures. It’s fine for us to say that we couldn’t possibly love our (adopted) children any more than we already do. But to declare ‘biology’ to be a falsely-revered connection in our societies, I wonder if the message some people are sending is that our children’s roots are no more important to us than yesterday’s garbage. Not to mention how hurtful it must be for first mothers to know that (some) adoptive parents quite frankly don’t care two whits about adoption loss and suffering. After all, losing a simple ‘biological connection’ isn’t any big deal??

Inquiring minds want to know...

2007-01-22T09:35:00.000-08:00

I’ve been thinking about the discussions over at Third Mom and ARP last week – do parents love adopted children differently? This topic has come up in various forms since I started the adoption process – mostly in the form of adoptive parents commenting that they love their children just as if they had given birth to them, or just as much as if they had given birth to them. Other times it’s been parents of children by both adoption and birth who state that there is no difference in the love they feel for their children. And then there are those who say that giving birth to a child (and parenting a child-by-birth) is no different than adoption and parenting a child-by-adoption. Then there are others who rightly call out the fact that all this comparing is ridiculous and in and of itself, a problem.

So do parents love adopted children differently? It’s an unanswerable question; or should I say, one that is probably never going to be answered to others’ satisfaction. My gut-reaction answer is probably a cop-out: yes, I love my children differently, and I have never heard a realistic parent say that they loved their children the same (way), whether biologically-related, related by adoption or a family mixture of both. Sometimes I think it would be easier to have people tell me what they assume about my love for my children, and then I could confirm or deny those assumptions.

**

The process of trying to become more aware of the realities of adoption has been invaluable for me and, hopefully, my family. But, I started this little quest for information before I met my son. And if anyone wants to cast judgment on the fact that trying to understand the not-so-happy aspects of adoption has affected the kind of relationship I have with my son….well, just stop reading now, please.

The question is out there, so I’ll answer as I see it – and please don’t try to evaluate these individual characterists of my relationships with each of my children from a ‘good/bad’, ‘positive/negative’ perspective. I’m just trying to give the facts as I see them….the information just is what it is: One of my children has been with me since she came into existence. She was a part of me, my body, my physiological functions; and for a time, was capable of absolutely nothing without me. We have no past that doesn’t include each other. She’ll never call anyone else ‘Mommy’ or consider anyone else her mother, unless something goes horribly wrong in our lives. I don’t worry about her ‘leaving me’ for anything other than to go out and enjoy her own life. I know she’s not ‘mine’ – she’s her own person with her own hopes and dreams and capabilities and her own future to do with as she pleases – but she’s ‘mine’ enough that she doesn’t belong to anyone else. Just me, and herself. I can say things to her such as, “I love you more than anyone could possibly love you!” and not think twice about whether or not someone else out there loves her as much as I do and has connections with her that run deeper than any other.

What is the ‘tie that binds’ with my second child? That is harder to describe. Everything (many things) I have read and come to understand would have me being ‘bound’ to him as a result of things such as greed, money, white privilege, fashionable ‘trends’, racism, classism, patriarchy, benefitting from another’s misfortune, misplaced/false altruism, unethical legalities, and on and on. I’m not saying I don’t acknowlege these things within adoption – I’m just asking how understanding adoption in this more truthful light could not affect the feelings I have for him, or what I can allow my heart to feel for him. In addition….I just don’t know how else to say this except to say, he belongs to another, besides me. Someone else has a natural, lifelong bond to him. He also belongs to a country other than the one I brought him into. I consider myself his ‘Mommy’ – but strive to remember his Korean mother and her bond with him. I consider him ‘mine’, but also know that in addition to belonging to me and to himself, he truly does also belong to his Korean mother, and to his people – both of which are relationsips that I will always remain outside. If I were to say to him, “I love you more than anyone could possibly love you”, my little nagging conscience would remind me that it’s not really fair/nice/right/respectful to say things like that because undoubtedly, he has been loved with a mother’s love by his Korean mother, too. See? I literally can’t fathom what it would be like to love him ‘the same’ as I love my daughter, because every little part of building a good, solid, true bond with him hinges upon my remembering and respecting his other connections, which don't include me. I’m *not* complaining about that – I’m just trying (and probably failing) to convey how respect for his entire being puts a different spin on the adoptive mother-son bond.

I love my son. I mean, I don’t know how I would live without him. He is my world, right along with my husband and my daughter. I would give anything for any of them. I have watched with excitement each milestone that he has attained., though secretly been a little sad to see him growing up so fast. I have enjoyed learning about his Korean culture. I think he is cute as can be. I love his personality…love, love, love it! I have big hopes and dreams for him. I want to give him the world! I have just.loved.everything. about him, right to his core. But things have been taken away from him….and I am only known to him because of that. I am his “Mommy” because things were taken from him. He has chunks out of his life, his being, that I can’t piece back together. Does that not affect the way a mother feels for her child? You bet it does. Arguing that point is just a refusal to understand how life circumstances and emotions entertwine to affect the human psyche. Some would reduce my emotions to mere ‘pity’, or a savior-complex, or whatever related notion. I can’t give any come-back to that except to say that, well, that’s just not how our day-to-day relationship flows. It just is what it is: a relationship of indescribable and yes, unconditional love, that is affected by factors that parents who are biologically-related to their children don’t have to deal with.

Do parents love adopted children differently? To answer 'yes' could be seen as the ‘duh’ answer – all parents love their children differently because all children are different. But as far as the deeper meaning of the question – Yes. What would I be saying if I said that despite the things that have come to light regarding adoption, it is possible for me to love my two children ‘the same’? How can anyone parenting in both scenarios say that they don’t love their adopted children ‘differently’ and still claim to be half-way aware of what it means to be adopted and the effects of adotpion on people’s lives?

My love for my daughter isn't deeper or any more real. My love for my son isn't superficial or contrived, in any way. But to say both emotions are the same, from my personal point of view...I just can't say that - and I don't think it's a negative thing to be able to admit that each relationship has it's own unique context that must be understood and respected by the parent.

Looks like we all just wanna be REAL

2006-12-11T08:40:00.000-08:00

Well, in my last post I pulled out the 'real' conversations as an example of things that can potentially side-track adoptive parents. Since then, I've seen some comments elsewhere that touch on that same subject, and I guess I have a bit more to say as I think it all through.

Obviously, no adoption-triad member wants his or her experience to be labeled as, or implied to be, anything other than 'real' - and rightfully so. And that's what makes this discussion of 'real mom' become so personal for some people. Many of us APs appear to be looking at it like this: If she's real, then what am I? Or, if she's real, then I guess I'm not. I have to say that I think this is an overly-simplified (and overly-emotional) way of looking at the situation. After making a much-too-lengthy response amongst the comments regarding this issue on Paragraphein blog, I thought I should just speak for myself and work through my own questions, right here on my own space instead of someone else's (sorry N!).

It's no secret that - I'm guessing - all APs are eventually going to have to respond to questions about our children's 'real' parents. It's a topic that is just so fascinating to people outside of adoption that they can't help asking (over and over) -so it behooves us to put some thought into the hows and whys of a good response. How will I respond, and why?

I believe that my son's Korean mom is his 'real mom'. True, I don't prefer to be viewed as only a substitute or stand-in, but in my mind's reality, that's what I am - so that's the POV I'm coming from as I write this. Right now it doesn't overly concern me that I'm not his one-and-only. I also can't help but think that some time in the future (yet unknown to me), my son's thoughts and dreams and curiosities about his Korean mom will be every bit as real to him as the fact that I feed him and clothe him and take him to activities and hug and kiss him. His longing for her and love for her and concern for her will be as real as real as real. I suspect. So, if the fact that literally having given life to someone isn't enough reason for an AP to see a first mother as being 'real' - perhaps the fact that first mothers are reality for our children, will convince us to forget the whole name-game.

Anyway, back to example linked above. Store clerk asks about child's "real" mother. WHY would I respond (as adoption propaganda would have me do) with the question, "Do you mean his birthmother"? This is how I see it: We're all so concerned about what 'society' will think of us (APs) if we don't address this misuse of the words 'real mother'. We'd be silently acknowledging that we're something other than real. And how can we be our child's advocate if we allow other people to constantly call our relationship into question like this? We wonder if years of letting our children hear others refer to their birthparents as real (gasp!) will have a negative effect on us, them, and how they feel about us.

Let me propose a different question. How will years of an adoptee hearing his adoptive mother refer to his other real mother as something other than real, make him feel? If I were to rephrase with the birthmother clarification every.single.time. some stranger referred to my son's Korean mom as 'real' - wouldn't I really be saying that she's something other than real? After all, I've substituted a most-telling prefix to her mother status: birth. Birth only, just birth. You, dear store clerk stranger, can put her right out of your mind now. She was there for a time, and now she's gone and it's allllll me. I'm his real mother, please refer to her as birthmother. Now obviously these aren't the (exact) words people use, but they might as well. Don't you think that's what little ears will hear after witnessing this conversation, oh, a hundred times?

I care waaaaaaay, no, infinitely more, about the way in which my son perceives his Korean mother, than I'll ever care what any stranger thinks of me (I should add that I realize his perception of his Korean mother will be his own, but I acknowledge that I could seriously affect that perception by the words and actions I choose). Strangers can think what they want (it's not as if the love an AP has for her child can truly be understood by a stranger, anyway). My child will know whether I love him, and whether my love and our relationship is real, based on how I treat him and others important to him - not based on how I try to 'frame' our relationship and categorize his first mother. I want him to see, amongst many other things, that my desire to treat his flesh-and-blood mother with respect and dignity, is real.

**

So how would I actually answer the question, "Where is his real mother?"

Well, we have options. yay. We're all different, but I dare say that none of the options has to include a clarification that relegates one mother's position to that of something less than the other's. Honestly, when I have been asked, I've just either 1) Ignored; pretended not to hear 2) Replied, "She lives in Korea" 3) Replied, "We'll let our son choose if and when he wants to discuss his family's make-up" (or similar wording). And this is also an option for those who must verbalize the reality of their motherhood, "He has two real mothers. His other one lives in _____". Actually I think there are probably many more options that let us ALL be real.

Getting side-tracked

2006-12-06T13:22:00.000-08:00

So what do you say when you meet someone who is excited about starting the adoption process?

I remember being so giddy about our decision, too, and I see my (old) self in all the new adoptive-parents-in-waiting - not necessarily with the same problems/concerns, but in the memory that we all follow bunny trails in the beginning - not understanding the road to knowledge; certainly not knowing what it looks like or where to find it. To reminisce about my thoughts during those days makes me wish there was a way to let people see into the future.

Couldn't see the forest for the trees, when we decided to adopt.

So many details to work out....so many options on which to become side-tracked....so many issues that somehow work their way into the foreground of things for potential adoptive parents to be immediately concerned about (or at least that's how it seems).....that we just truly don't ask the more important questions that would give us pause to consider exactly what we are getting ourselves (and a future child) into. And I would dare say that pre-adoption 'counseling' isn't set up for the task of helping potential adoptive parents really delve into difficult topics and examine our lifestyles and thought processes to see whether we are even minimally prepared for the tasks we are so excited about taking on.

One particularly common example of this side-tracking plays out as such:

Jane and John Doe decide to adopt. Once the decision is made, they immediately know without a doubt that it 'feels' right and nothing is going to stop this dream from becoming reality.

Nosey neighbor #1 asks if they are ever going to have any children of 'your own'. Oh, and wonders if they'll know anything about the child's 'real mother'.

Meltdown/indignation occurs, followed by the previously-coached response of, "The child will be 'our own', and since we'll be the ones changing the diapers, we'll be his/her 'real' mom/dad". [insert 'angry-duh' look]

I give this example not to say that APs are expected to answer to every whim and nosey question from people who literally don't care about the answer to the nosey question they just asked, but as a segway to point out the end result of this phenomenon of needing to validate one's own decision to adopt: we leave our brains and emotions little energy to ponder things that will really matter.

My opinion, three or so years past giddy/need validation stage: Who cares. When I see APs/potential APs repeatedly discussing matters such as the fact that our children *are* 'our own' - I often wish I had an encouraging, thought-provoking way to say, "hey, don't worry so much about that! Instead, remember that your child *does* have another mother, and always will have! Spend your time thinking about how you can honor that connection instead of spending one minute caring about comments from those who will never care like you do!" Or, "Are you prepared to accept the fact that this child will *not* be 'your own'? Instead of defending ourselves to nosey neighbors, we could ask ourselves questions such as -

Are we prepared to accept that our lives are always going to be one big question mark to much of society?

Are we prepared to accept the fact that adoption = loss for so many people the world over?

Are we prepared to accept the fact that it is more important to validate our children's experiences instead of worrying so much about others' perceptions of us?

Are we willing to be our child's ally, even if doing so takes us way out of our previous comfort zones?

Are we fooling ourselves when we survey our family, our friends, our surroundings and come to the conclusion that we are in a good position to raise a child of another race? (Answer to that is probably 'yes'!)

Sometimes people get side-tracked with the costs of adoption. Can we afford to adopt? How can we raise the money? Internet auctions and donations and garage sales and spaghetti dinners and...?? Again, I'm not saying money isn't a valid concern. Despite reports of all the rich, white APs out there, I've yet to meet any of them. But when thinking about money and adoption - it's too bad that potential APs can't see ahead or outside of ourselves enough to ask, why must it cost so much? Am I okay with the fact that I nearly had to sell my soul in order to be able to afford the cost of a child who supposedly needs a home? What doesn't completely add up, here?

Or how about becoming side-tracked by our own family 'business'? "My Dad, bless his heart, is a racist! He's even referred to black people as 'baboons'. How can we talk to him so that he understands he can't say these types of things around our future child?" Well....that's a huge problem, to be sure. Instead of hoping and betting on the notion that dear ol' Grandpa might come around once he sees his cute new [insert race] grandchild, and looking all over for examples of how this exact thing has occurred in other IA families and everything turned out just peachy, it's time to seriously consider what life is going to be like for the AP and especially the TRA (I'm guessing...hell?), regardless of whether or not Grandpa 'accepts' the new baby.

Another off-track (guity on this one, and it's really no huge secret): Potential transracial AP looks around and sees very little in the way of 'culture' in his/her background/family/home/community. Instead of spending hours Googling for 'Asian boy dolls' (btw, don't bother...I don't think you'll find what you're looking for) or purchasing cheap, mass-repro cultural items off the internet, start thinking about whether or not this is going to be a good situation in which a child of color could thrive.

I write all of this not to mock fellow APs or to minimize the struggles and questions that arise during the early adoption process - but the lack of understanding of reality (my own and that of those following behind me) really makes me sad. I also feel that agencies betray their own clients (and the children-to-be-adopted) when they let us slide by without understanding - but that's a topic for another post.

So the question is, when people ask advice about these topics that are kind of side-tracking from reality, what is the proper answer for them? I hate to dash anyone's happy hopes and dreams just like most of the rest of you out there. How to slip in a dose of reality without looking like an 'angry AP'? ;)

A second adoption

2006-11-28T10:55:00.000-08:00

Barely a day goes by that I don't ponder the same question Thirdmom asked in her recent Open Mike: Should TRAs be only children? In my family's situation, the question is modified - should a transracial adoptee be the only adopted child in the family (and thus the only person of a certain race in the family)?

This is something I've struggled with ever since leaving Korea with our son. That experience changed me so completely; there isn't much that is the same in the world after one finds one's self in the position of being the mother of an absolutely precious child who was lost by another mother. Actually, I shouldn't describe that experience so passively, for part of the angst/sorrow/even remorse, sometimes, is that I actively positioned myself to be able to have this experience. It isn't simply a circumstance in which I woke up one day and 'found myself' (and an aside that I feel I must always include: I'm by no means saying that I'm the one who stands to suffer as a result of my involvement in adoption, nor that the emotions I struggle with as I process thoughts about adoption are anything at all in comparison to what a first mother or an adoptee may feel along the way. Again, I'm only sharing my experience, which is the only perspective I know for sure).

Anyway, I have so many opposing thoughts about ever adopting again. When we started this process, we had many misconceptions about adoption (unbeknownst to us at the time) - why it was necessary, why pregnant women choose adoption, whether it was an altruistic thing to do, the specifics about how adoptions are handled and how pregnant women are counseled about relinquishment...the list goes on. At the time, I thought we had the answers we needed in order to proceed with good intentions. Along the way, I've been enlightened a bit by those who have experienced a different aspect of adoption than I. And their experiences have really given me pause to think about whether or not there is a 'right' reason to choose to adopt, and how living with an adoptive relinquishment or growing up as an adoptee can be amongst the most difficult - even the most painful - experiences people can face in life.

With those things in mind, I continually ask myself, how can I be a support, an ally if you will, to those who are affected much differently by adoption than I am - how can I be part of changes that make adoption unnecessary or rarely necessary - when I'm willing to be on the happy end of another (second) adoption? Isn't that an inherent contradiction in thought? I could limit the possibility of ever adoption again to the 'perfect circumstance' (which would be one in which there appeared to be a need for it, in the truest sense of the word) - but right off the bat, I know I'll never be able to guarantee that with a second international adoption - just like I don't know if it was truly necessary for my son to be separated from his Korean mother. I have no real idea how Korean women are counseled about single motherhood or unplanned pregnancies - although I highly suspect that the 'counseling' is not anything of the sort that would make me comfortable that I'd be entering into a completely ethical adoption.

So far, two strikes down. I know (through the voices of others who have shared) that adoption (relinquishment) and growing up as a TRA can be painful experiences, and I know that it is not possible for me to be able to assess whether any potential international adoption is ethical.

What's left in my mind -which is probably the only argument which might convince me to adopt another child - is this idea that my son should not grow up being the only Korean (KA/KAD) in this family. I don't doubt the testimony of those who believe it is extremely important not to be 'alone' in the family as the only transracial adoptee. I have very much believed through my own ponderings on the idea, that it would be extremely beneficial. But it doesn't negate or make irrelevant my other concerns - it means that my family will (ultimately) benefit from the misfortune of yet another Korean woman. It means that another Korean child will grow up with the struggles of living in *my* family, as opposed to the possibility of turning tides and more acceptance of single mothers in Korea - in which case that child could stay with his own mother. Or, given time, enough domestic adoption in Korea that the child could be adopted by extended family or an unrelated Korean family. Somehow I feel as if my just being here, being ready and willing to adopt again (for my son's sake, of course) is helping to feed the system of few rights for pregnant women and children - and is keeping the adoption biz churning.

And lastly (for now, anyway) - what to tell this imaginary second (adopted) child? I hate to put it this way, but with adoption #1 we almost have the excuse of ignorance and inexperience (I know ignorance is not an excuse...it's just that I've heard so many experiences from others since becoming an adoptive parent - there's virtually no way I *couldn't* have been somewhat ignorant prior to becoming one - heck, I still feel dumb as a box of rocks on many of these matters) - but what is the 'excuse' for child #2? Darling, we know how difficult it is to grow up in a family where your parents are white and don't understand your struggles and we understand that it would have been much better if you could have stayed with just about any other family in Korea, and we're very sad that your Korean mother will be living the rest of her life without you....but we just loved your big brother so much that we wanted him to have someone else to struggle along side him and so we adopted you...(?)

Starting with the basic assumption that an adoptive parent would primarily want to adopt a second child because they truly want to add another child to the family and because they are committed to the hard work of being a good adoptive parent - is it then 'okay', given all the other reservations I've mentioned above, to proceed with a second adoption for the (secondary) purpose of not having adopted child #1 be 'alone' in the family? I've put this into words the best I can right now, and have no answers.

And a mini-confession: We are currently expecting child #3 (by birth). I'll admit, as great as the news of changes in Korean adoption is for the future of families, I panicked this summer when the announcements were made, and immediately started making plans to pursue a second adoption. In the midst of that decision-making process, I had to admit just how concerned I am about ever adopting again, and ultimately decided that we could not be rushed or scared into making an adoption decision, in light of our contradicting thoughts about it. So, as it stands now, my son is set to have two caucasian siblings as of next spring. Of course my emotions tell me how wonderful it would be if our family was eventually completed with a Korean sibling (brother) for our children - our son, especially - but my conscience must be clear on this and my heart in the right place. So this is the route we've taken, and I'm comforable for the time being, with some time to think through future possibilities.

Baby Buzz-Cut

2006-11-20T14:52:00.000-08:00

Both of my kids have hair 'issues'.

My daughter (4) had hardly any of it for about 18-24 months of her life and when more started to grow in, it stayed very fine, fly-away and medium blonde. Then it morphed into this arrangement of being relatively straight on the top and curly towards the bottom - kind of a Bozo-the-clown effect. It's never grown more than an inch lower than her ear, regardless of how often it is trimmed or not trimmed. I see most of her little friends with beautiful long, thick hair or cute short-style cuts and I tell you it pains me to see what we have going over here in the hair department (yeah, I'm being a little dramatic!). Anyway, hers looks ratty with very little effort.

My son (2) has great hair - straight as can be; gorgeous black. The problem with him is not his hair - its that people don't cut it properly. They tell me they're gonna use the clippers, which is apparently much easier than a scissor cut - and then I know what it's ultimately going to end-up looking like: Buzz cut. Yeah, that style is undoubtedly easy, low-maintenance and cool (for summer months) - - but when it grows out just a little he looks like a fuzzy duckling. I'm just not really a fan - it's not the cutest, most flattering look for a little boy, in my mind. Bangs are another issue - too short and they stick out like a visor. Too long and it just looks cheesy (and is VERY difficult to cut them straight). Where are all the people who know how to do a regular ol' cute little boy cut (tapered around the ears and neckline) with bangs that aren't completely blunt-cut? Or some kind of a messy-topped crew-cut? That would look so cute on him!

I'm just stressing about this because we have a family wedding coming up (soon!) and both kiddos are in the wedding...of course I want them to look fantastic. They'll be stunningly gorgeous no matter what, but superb haircuts to go with all the other formality would be great! So I'm off on a mission this week...

Small step forward...

2006-11-19T21:50:00.000-08:00

Thinking of some friends in the adoption community today. This is great news, this report. Of course the study and the report itself are but a small step in the grand scheme of adoption reform, but I hope any and every member of society will be compelled to ponder how we can continue to move forward.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/15801325/

Enough group hugs, already

2006-11-05T09:21:00.000-08:00

A couple of years ago (prior to knowing anything about the sweet baby who would become my son), I posted my dismay - even anger, perhaps - on an agency discussion forum regarding the rule that Korean women who had relinquished their children for international adoption (or the biological families of those children) could make a request to parent ("change their minds") up to the point that the children had left Korea. At that time, I couldn't fathom that we, theoretically, could stretch our budget to its limit to be able to travel to Korea and might leave without "our" baby.

In retrospect, I'm surprised at one or two of the responses to that discussion forum 'vent' of mine: a couple of adoptive moms actually spoke up and basically said, yeah, that's the rule, and so what? Shouldn't a mom be able to decide to parent her child before the adoption is final if it is in any way possible? After my public humiliation wore off, I had to admit how correct they were. By the time we were actually in Korea to meet our son, I was secretly hoping with everything I had, that he would be one of the lucky ones whose family would have found the encouragement or the resources to 'change their minds'. I was mentally prepared to leave without him, knowing that it would truly be what was best for him - being able to stay with his parents or extended family as opposed to the life that I would offer.

The fact that I posted my self-absorbed concerns publicly (and the fact that I had those thoughts at all) is one of those experiences that can only be told while hanging one's head in shame. I wonder will I ever be able to overcome the regret I feel for going into the adoption process so blindly - so unaware of its effects on others. But I wanted to expose my thoughts here simply to highlight the response of the one or two adoptive moms who took enough offense to my self-absorption to tell me the truth - and that's something that is really lacking when we adoptive parents speak to each other about what we've learned about adoption. We're more likely to give pats on the back and ((((hugsssss!)))) to each other or to blindly share each other's frustration whenever something doesn't seem to be going our way. We commonly and conveniently forget that we aren't owed anything, including anyone else's child, we let fears and form our opinions and use sentimentalism to justify our actions, and we can be quick with attempts to discredit those who have first-hand experiences and concerns to share about international adoption.

I'm thankful for the people (adoptees and first parents, primarily, but also a few adoptive parents) who have been strong enough not to mince words when talking about adoption. Hugs are nice, but they don't help us learn or grow and they don't change reality for those who are experiencing the effects of adoption.

Racism

2006-10-27T08:50:00.000-07:00

Jae Ran of Harlow's Monkey is a wonderful, informative blogger whose thoughts on race and adoption I have found very enlightening. She mentioned the following terribly unfortunate fact in one of her posts this week:

There are still adoptive parents out there who believe that racism
doesn’t exist. There are adoptive parents who believe that when we adoptees talk
about our experiencs of racism we are just “whining” or attention-seeking.

Elsewhere this week, I participated in a discussion that centered around an article written by a transracial adoptee about his experiences growing up in his adoptive family and their culture. I would love to spend some time focusing on some of the issues that have been brought to adoptive parents' attention time and again, through the powerful spoken and written truths of adoptees, but for now I am going to basically vent about how the adoptive parents' discussion proceeded after reading the article. There is heavy, careful censorship in most areas that APs congregate on-line to discuss "issues" - or the quick threat of censorship as soon as a view is expressed that might 'hurt' someone (an AP - not an adoptee, of course) and I find that so stifling and just plain wrong. So I thought I would use my own space to replay the discussion a bit.

Early up was an AP responder who disagreed that our country is a racist society. Also wondered if perhaps our children of Asian heritage might not face the same issues as a black/African American TRA (the author of the article), since the historical racial stereotypes and problems of the two groups are so different. (My translation: Our kids are white enough to pass through life without too much trouble, so we don't need to concern ourselves too much with figuring out how to help our children face racism). Score one for those in denial.

Next up was someone who thought that the author had some 'major issues', not the least of which was the fact that part of the black heritage he has chosen to embrace includes racism against whites. Of course this particular commenter has also met black people who were racist towards ALL whites. Score one for the 'reverse racism' battle cry....

Next - Well, this guy (author) is a big, fat racist, of course! AND a crybaby!! He can move to a place called 'Victimland' and the world will be a better place.

Then a repeat-offender who had to bring to our attention the fact that there are People of Color in high positions of authority in this country - and even went on to name a few! So, well, of course that proves what great strides we are making.

An adoptee tried to interject that she could really identify with the experiences of the article's author.

Next up - a reminder (from an AP) that not all adoptees feel the way the author does.

Shortly thereafter, the threat of having the discussion locked down by a moderator. Yay. Oh, and of course, that was proposed NOT as a reaction to all the racist crap that I've mentioned above. That didn't need to be said until after the adoptee had tried to speak.

Repeat offender who reminded us all, with a fabulous misuse of the term 'racists', that all racists aren't white. Anyone at all can be 'racist'.

Then the discussion started to dwindle into whether or not it is okay for APs to say we are 'color blind' (because of course most people don't mean that they don't 'see' a person's color...they mean something different).

**

I can't even really wrap my brain around each different person's perspective enough to be of any assistance in helping people see things differently - but I do know that I'm sooo tired of not being able to have any discussion, to learn, to find common ground and help one another, that I fear we APs, collectively, will be stuck here forever. EVERY discussion is stifled or detracted from by people who - I don't even know - live in fear that their family structures, their love for their children, will somehow be invalidated by acknowledging and really 'seeing' racism in this country and admitting the difficulties inherent in living the life of a TRA?? I think fear has much to bear on this situation.

To me, what will eventually 'invalidate' TR adoptive families, is the fact that white people have chosen to bring children of color into their homes and then proceed to raise them without trying to understand their hurts, fears, issues, feelings, opinions, and without doing anything to help prepare them for what life doles out in this racist society. As (mostly) white folks, we can't give our transracially-adopted children all the skills and understanding they will need. But to deny their experiences is the worst trespass, in my opinion.

Jae Ran also rejoiced this past week,

We are no longer going to be relegated to the “adoptee panels” and the “personal
essays” in the adoption field. We are now what I term the Authors of our own
stories, the Teachers, the Experts.

I'm not a much of a crier, but that brought tears to my eyes when I read it. White APs, social workers, the general population, are *not* the expert voices in International Adoption - adoptees themselves are the Experts. Their voices speak the truth, and I beg my fellow APs to listen.

Don't.

2006-10-10T09:08:00.000-07:00

Holiday announcement for (white, particularly) APs:

Traditional dress items from our children's heritage(s) are NOT appropriate Halloween costumes.

Some of these parenting decisions really are no-brainers...I'm amazed/appalled/embarrassed-to-the-core that a question of having one's child dress in hanbok for Halloween is even up for discussion. I wouldn't be angry except for the 'excuses' people come up with to try and justify their decision, such as, "it's a chance to educate...". Yes, In My Very Humble Opinion, it's a chance to tell the rest of the world how completely stupid and clueless white adoptive parents can be about anything and everything related to our children's birth culture. There's no 'educating' about hanbok during Halloween; only the chance to draw attention to your exotic little Korean girl or boy.

Each of us, when we decided to become parents of transracially adopted children, took on the responsibility to educate ourselves about their birth cultures and to really think about what this means for our families. In certain situations, it means that we parents don't have the 'authority' to decide to do certain things for or with them - and dressing them in hanbok for Halloween is something that a white AP does not have the authority or the 'right' to do. If Korean/Korean American parents think it is appropriate for their children - well, if nothing else, they are 'qualified' to make that decision. If (some) Koreans in Korea (such as your child's foster parents) think it is "cute" (even though they might not be telling you the truth when they say that, out of respect/politeness), that is still different.

This is a perfect example of the type of misappropriation that was addressed in the book Beyond Good Intentions. Sometimes it's a fine line. Other times, there will (should) be alarm bells and red flags and people screaming, "nooooo!" that will give us little clues about how we should proceed.

Please....for ALL of us....just don't do it (the Halloween thing). Do read the book.

A Fine Line

2006-09-30T22:33:00.000-07:00

by zoe

I just finished reading Cheri Register’s book Beyond Good Intentions, and I really can’t say enough positive things about it. She gets right to the center of some of the issues that can become problematic in transracial adoptive families. I also think she eloquently speaks to the fears that are secretly at the core of many adoptive parents’ souls and then helps us understand how those things that lie below the surface can manifest into some pretty grievous errors in transracial parenting judgment (okay, maybe I’m reading too much into it, but that’s how the book spoke to me, based on my own experiences and some things I’ve seen too much of on message boards).

I could go chapter by chapter and identify with various missteps that she presents; I’m guilty or partially-guilty of most, even after only a year and half ‘on the job’; but the last chapter in particular (titled, “Appropriating Our Children’s Heritage”), really hit me hard.

I remember the first time I saw a picture of a family with two white (adoptive) parents and a Korean child – all dressed in hanbok. I’m not gonna lie – it shocked me. I think I was blushing, though I was the only one in the room alone starting at that image on my computer screen. I just couldn’t help but think there was something not quite right with that (okay, but who am I to judge...I'm just saying that picture started my thoughts on this topic a couple of years ago). Months and months went by and I would see other such pictures here and there, and though I knew participating in such a photo shoot wasn’t for me and my family, I also realized that this family's choice was just the tip of the iceberg, so-to-speak, as far as what is available to adoptive parents where experiencing or educating ourselves about our children's birth culture is concerned - and I started really struggling to understand exactly where the line should be drawn. Time went on, and I read this (on a phenomenal blog by a very talented writer) – and clued in a little more (I’m doing this in baby steps, I told you!).

I think part of the reason why the final chapter of Beyond Good Intentions was so convicting and entirely appropriate and true for me is that I’ve long had thoughts about how much better the world would be if people weren’t separated by race (note, I didn’t say, “if everyone was like me” or “if the world was colorblind” – but if race and culture alone truly didn’t put distance or distrust between people). And I guess I wonder if my interest in adoption wasn’t partially because of some Pollyanna-ish (and actually perhaps racist, I’ve now discovered) idea that I could somehow bridge the whole damn gap by adopting transracially. I know my son didn't sign up to take on that burden, and boy do I *deeply* regret ever thinking that my future child's life or my family's participation in adoption could somehow be an advertisement for peace-and-harmony-for-all.

Wanting to experience the world – though for most of my growing-up years not being in a position to travel - wanting people of different races (particularly white people, though) to ‘get along’ and to be accepting of those things that make the world's cultures unique and special, and for all of us to just be free to enjoy the incredible things that each different culture has to offer (okay, basically just wanting racism to 'go away'), is something I’ve identified within myself that is not right/correct but is probably a side-effect of my upbringing. With adoption superimposed over that whole mess of thoughts, of course I may be at risk for always needing to ‘check’ myself and the ways in which I educate myself about, and experience a bit of, my son’s Korean culture from an outsider’s vantage point.

I could right now make a list of things that have been swarming in my head while I wonder whether or not my doing them or participating in them would be over-stepping any boundaries (…should I learn more of the Korean language…is it okay for me to call my son by his Korean name…should I keep the couple of pieces of Korean artwork in the closet…should I have planned a regular first birthday party instead of a Dol...should I continue any of the developing friendships I have with Korean people/Korean American people or is that inherently 'taking advantage' ….) but the bottom line is that I must use my love and respect for my son and what is rightfully his, as my guides.

Obviously I can’t sum up this book’s last chapter, or even my own rambling thoughts on it, for that matter. Suffice it to say the book in it's entirety should be required reading in order to complete a homestudy; these are high on the list of things that should be discussed before people make a decision for adoption.

Okay...birthdays are just hard.

2006-09-24T12:05:00.000-07:00

by zoe

We’ve had fun celebrating our son’s second birthday with him this year. He has enjoyed several small parties – the highlight of each for him was being the center of attention as we all sang “Happy Birthday” to him, and then, of course, blowing out his candles - which he wanted to do repeatedly at each party. He loves to tell everyone about the excitement that has been going on in his life.

As always (so far on this adoption ‘journey’), I feel so torn. Maybe, as an adoptive mother, his birthdays should always be bittersweet to me because I know it is more than just his birthday...it is an anniversary of the worst kind…of loss.

I'll just say it: It feels wrong for me to celebrate his birthday with him. Yes, I know that as his adoptive family, we would be the ones to give him a party and gifts and a birthday cake and birthday kisses, and to envelop him in enough prayers and good wishes to last a lifetime. But to really celebrate his birthday, as a mother, is something that feels strange to me at this point. A birthday celebration ‘belongs’ to the mother – the one who gave birth - almost as much as it belongs to the birthday celebrant. It is her celebration, too; her memory of the day when she beamed with joy and pride and fully realized the love she had held in a secret place for nine long months. It is her day to celebrate her accomplishment in bringing her precious child into the world. As her child’s birthday rolls around each year, she recounts her story of waiting and waiting for the big day, her labor and the moment of the birth, what she said when she first laid eyes on him, how she named him with a special name she had been saving just for him, what the weather was like that day, what the doctor said about how handsome the baby was, and how mommy thought he was so perfect and how she couldn’t remember life before him…

And together they share and celebrate this event, this bond … for all of their lives. I mean, they are supposed to. My participation, my initiation of a birthday celebration, feels very different, indeed. If last year I was focused on not bungling the Dol terribly, this year I just felt more like a 'guest' - a guest with poor party etiquette who insists on taking up a place in the spotlight that belongs to someone else - rather than a guest who truly shares the day and the memories. It's not a pouting-whining-I-wish-I-had-given-birth-to-him sadness; it's just me grappling with figuring out and understanding my place in his life, and what my role should be.

~~

We have chosen to observe a simple, yet tangible remembrance of our son’s Korean mother on the birthday they share together – a day which really includes only the two of them. Even this feels like an intrusion, but again, the alternative - no visible remembrance - seems worse. My hope would be that she never fade away in our memories and that he never becomes so selfishly ‘mine’ that I rarely acknowledge that he is truly his Korean mother’s son, too. I worry that - though our son may dream and wonder about the mother who could tell him his birth story and how perfect he was and how she couldn’t remember life before him - he might be afraid to express his own emptiness or sadness; afraid to speak of her or to acknowledge that she and he together make up his birthday.

She is the missing half of the birthday celebrations.

Birthday

2006-09-09T23:37:00.000-07:00

by zoe

My son’s second birthday is coming up and for the second year in a row, I’m anxious and sad and wondering just how this day should be celebrated (on a couple of different levels which I’ll try to describe in the next entry or two).

His first birthday was pretty much overwhelming and completely bittersweet. I’ve heard of many adoptive parents of Korean children going all-out for Dol parties (Americanized, of course – by people with no/little connection to Korean culture) and I worried over what to do about this occasion as, for months, I had been preoccupied with thoughts of all the things my son had left behind.

The night before we were to take custody of our son in Korea was probably the saddest of my life – barring none. I’m not expecting anyone’s sympathy or even understanding – just relaying my experience since that is the only perspective I truly know. We had climbed a mountain near Seoul that evening and had arrived at an overlook just at dusk. I stood there looking out over the bustling city and completely lost it. I tried to take some pictures of the nightscape – but in my mind, no pictures would have ever been necessary. I’ll never forget that crushing feeling; the understanding that our son was leaving behind everything he had ever known in order to be with us – the sights, the sounds, the smells, his people and their history, culture and traditions, his language, the belonging – everything. And not one of those things would I ever be able to provide for him. I thought of a precious baby having been separated from his mother, and now spending his last night with his foster mother, who surely loved him and whom he had grown to love. I was already thinking about the darn first birthday party back then, too…that same night. The thought that he would miss out on what he would have had (a real dol janche) was, I realized, but a drop in the sea compared to everything before my eyes that he would be leaving behind in less than 48 hours.

When it came time for the actual birthday celebration roughly 5 months after he had arrived in the US, I felt like my option of trying to have some semblance of a traditional Korean first birthday party was like catch-22…of course my party would be a failure in many ways, maybe even a complete joke (wrong food, wrong props, misuse/misunderstanding of tradition…the whole ball o’ wax) – but what was the alternative – to pretend I didn’t care about his life, his soul, his beginnings? To perhaps dishonor his Korean heritage and more importantly his mother who actually gave birth to him, by trying to wipe out anything and everything that was a reminder of his roots? Or perhaps to have a regular old party and make sure to tell everyone how ‘American’ he was – make him wave an American flag in each hand as he blew out the candles on his birthday cake? Both of these options seemed awful; the second probably even a bit more than the first. So we did the only thing we felt/knew we should do - we tried to remember/honor as many Korean traditions at his party as we could without making it into a circus.

That night I fell into bed exhausted, quite frankly, and could do nothing but hold my son close to me and cry, knowing that he had lost so much more than one ‘real’ birthday party. He snuggled into my arms and stared into my eyes and patted my cheek with his little hand. Those things that made up his little world on his birth day, were gone. One year later, he was living a completely different life, and I couldn't help but feel that for the rest of his life (or his time with me, anyway) he would be stuck with second-best - of everything…

From There...to Here

2006-09-04T22:05:00.000-07:00

My whoppin’ four years of parenting experience have given me a few chances to examine what I thought I knew about myself and (almost) everything I thought I believed.

I’m the mom of two absolutely precious, intelligent, loving, kind, active, gorgeous (etc., etc., etc.) children. Our daughter was the first grandchild in either of our families and they were all enthralled, as expected. Suddenly everything was about the baby...feeding her and changing diapers and wiping spit-up and dressing her in cute little girly clothes….then developmental milestones and a first birthday and, well, my days seemed to be filled with every good thing.

When we started thinking about another child, we decided to adopt…internationally. In the interest of getting a bit of my history right out in the open, I’ll say that we jumped into adoption mostly as a response to the (oversimplified) notion that there were children in other parts of the world who needed homes. We knew that we could and would love a child not born to us, with the same type of indescribable, unconditional love that we felt for our daughter - and we started to wonder about the sense in having another biological child when there were children already living, who needed families. We forged ahead mostly on that premise alone, and our process of adopting a Korean child was soon underway. Now – I know what some people may be thinking, and guess what? I likely agree with you – I guess that’s why I’m here. I didn’t adopt to keep up with the trends (I pretty much suck at that anyway), or because I wanted to mother a poor orphan who would thank me upon awakening each morning, for saving him. But somehow some important truths were left in their hiding places along the way, and though I wish it weren't the case, the bottom line remains: We made a decision to adopt on a premise that we did not investigate as we should have, using a process that we didn’t fully understand, in a world where hardly anything is as it seems on the surface. I will never again view life the way I did before I became an adoptive mother.

Though I love both of my children beyond scope or bounds or any description of reasonable length, there isn’t one single day that passes without the knowledge that one of my children experienced tremendous losses before he met me (for reasons not totally known or understood by me), and then again in order to be with me.

~ * ~

So what is an adoptive parent to do when the realization hits that one has neatly arranged to become the parent of a child who, given nothing more than a different time or slightly different circumstance, would have lived an entirely different life and been no worse off…in fact, may very well have been better off?

We live behind facades in attempt to protect ourselves against ever having to acknowledge any unpleasant aspect of adoption. There are certain realities that exist whether we choose to see them or not, and we have the opportunity (the responsibility, actually) to listen, to gain perspective, and to hopefully begin to shift the focus away from our own desires and hopes and dreams and fears of the unknown.