Friday, February 5, 2010

Never to Love Again



Never to Love Again

I have decided
Never to love again.
I would let myself love a God
And journey to the convent
On the hill
But, I don’t know a God
To love him.

I will lock my heart now
And melt the key.
Allow my heart to be still
No more meddling rushing blood
To quicken its pace.

I will be at peace with steady
If I do not
Rise high with love
I will absolve myself
Of the harrowing fall.

I have decided
To never love again.
I will be free.

----

I wrote the above piece a few years ago and I strangely don’t recollect why. Well, strange maybe to you. When I write fiction I often ‘forget’ what I wrote shortly after a piece is completed- including shorts and poetry. Even stranger, again- probably to you, this ‘forgetting’ doesn’t happen when I write non-fiction.

What is indeed very odd to me is how I see this poem’s theme carried out in my children. Over and over. Listen in on a few recent conversations...

OD was writing to a pen pal and was discussing her life in China. These particular recollections were not pleasant memories. Afterwards she reflected-

Thinking about these things makes me miss China.

I told her that it was interesting that discussing memories that were difficult would cause her to ‘miss China’. I asked her to think about what it was that she was really missing. After a long pause she said through a tightly clenched jaw-

I miss taking care of myself.

---

And today...

YD made a big ol’ bad decision at school. Her teacher instructed her to discuss this very bad decision with me when she came home. YD did as she was instructed and busted out with it as soon as she walked in the door.

Now, this is YD we are talking about. Last month she received an ‘Honesty Award’ at school. Her teacher told me that the second she heard about the award was the second that she knew exactly who should receive it.

YD was absolutely devastated because she dreads disappointing me. I was indeed disappointed and that was enough to send YD into a 2 hour long wailing screaming piercing cry. She screamed that she didn’t want to love anymore and she didn’t want a mommy anymore.
When you hear a cry that stems from loss it is unmistakable. It is rare for my girls to cry but when they do- I chain my heart to my chest because it threatens to burst open.
---

OD misses taking care of herself. I get that- depending on someone else loving you and caring for you is riddled with danger. Better to play it safe and take care of yourself.

YD doesn’t want to love anymore and doesn’t want me because love, especially my love, opens her up to losing again. Better to push me away and get this love pain over with once and for all.

Every day I pray that my children don’t melt their keys. I also pray for the wisdom and guidance to help them continue to believe that if they rise high with love- I will catch and cradle them if they fall.
Tonight a friend sent me this quote from The Mistress's Daughter: A Memoir by A.H. Homes-
"To be adopted is to be adapted, to be amputated and sewn back together again. Whether or not you regain full function, there will always be scar tissue."

-Diane

Sunday, January 31, 2010

First Moms- My Kids Have Questions



Of course you have heard the expression- It takes a village to raise a child. Well, for my children- it takes a triad. My children know many adoptees- both younger and older. They know many adoptive parents. But there a big gap when it comes to knowing first moms.


Yesterday I was talking with the girls about a recent surprise encounter we had with a first mom. Let me back up and explain...


Last year my youngest daughter (YD) was in kindergarten. The bus stop was in front of our home. Another little girl also waited at the stop with her very pregnant mom. I would try to engage the mom in conversation but there was always this intangible awkwardness. Just couldn’t figure out exactly where it was coming from. Did she feel strange about being pregnant when I was obviously an adoptive parent? I could never quite figure it out- why she was so aloof.


Fast forward to this year when said pregnant mom, who was no longer pregnant, happened to be working in a shoe store that we visited. This year YD is in 1st grade with her little girl who used to wait at our bus stop. They have since moved. Once again, I tried to drum up a conversation and this time it took me to an unexpected place.


I asked how her baby was...


And she proceeded to launch into a –I gave my baby up for adoption, it is an open adoption, I had a long time to pick the perfect family, the family loves to do all of the same things I do, I get to see her sometimes, she looks so much like her sister...


Whoa.


My girls were by my side – taking this all in and digesting it I don’t know how.


This is why I feel so passionate about adoption discussions starting early. You never know what will fall into your lap when you are out and about in the world. But, I digress...


Back to yesterday. I was sitting on my bed with the girls and we were talking about the above encounter, their first moms and questions that they wish they had answers to. I talked about the sometimes silencing of the first mom’s voice in the adoption community and my oldest (OD) said-

But that is the voice that I need to hear the most.


And YD nodded in agreement with her big sister. Huh. It took a minute to absorb that one- The first mom’s voice is the one they need to hear the most. So, I talked with them about my blog and how sometimes a first mom will comment or email me with their reflections. I talked about how I read first mom blogs too.


That is where the buzz began and somehow this morning the girls were eagerly writing down questions for all first moms in hopes hearing straight from them.

Questions from OD (10 ½)-
1. Why did you make the decision to give up your child?
2. Did you have other children?
3. How did you feel when you said goodbye to your child?
4. Do you think of them often?
5. How do you feel about your choice now?
6. How old was the baby when you said goodbye?
7. How old is the child now?
8. How do you think your child is feeling about you?
9. Do you think that your child is happy about where they are?
10. Do you get to see them?

Questions from YD (6 ½)-
1. How old are you?
2. Why did you make the decision?
3. What did your baby look like when they came out of your belly?
4. Did you get upset about giving them away?
5. What does your house look like?
6. What is your favorite plant?
7. What is your life like?

I know. I know. It is A LOT of questions. But, if someone out there feels up to tackling any or all of them I know my girls would sure appreciate it. It takes a triad ya’ll.

This blog allows anon comments. If you are so kind to post about this topic via your own blog/website please link here and we will hop on over. Just click on the little 'add your link' button below.


-
Diane

Friday, January 29, 2010

Please Don't Stop the Rain



I haven’t blogged in awhile about music and how big a role it plays in our family. The video above is the current fav song around here. The first time that my oldest heard it she proclaimed-

This song is about life. It is the way life is.
--
Whenever we are driving here, there and everywhere- this song is requested over and over. Sometimes a song is insatiable. And when a song resonates with them, with me, listening to it becomes moments when our hearts mingle.

There have been many times now that music has offered us sanctity amongst chaos. A song can provide a safe place. Meeting someone inside of a song is quite a lovely experience- treasured and embraced.

There is the beauty of singing together and listening to our voices melt. There is the listening together and feeling ourselves individually reflecting but collectively responding. Music marks a moment in time and I have often used it to encapsulate a memory- sometimes a song for a special day, a season or a journey. I have made several videos of the girls to celebrate various life stage occasions and each one is backlit by a song. Those songs are instantly claimed by them and they like to listen to ‘their’ music. If I play one of ‘their’ songs or we hear it when we are out and about they will say- Listen! That is MY song!

No doubt- music has an uncanny way of evoking emotion. I can hear a song and instantly enter an emotional time warp.

The other week, late in the evening- I had a conversation with my youngest about names. She declared that she wanted to be called – Carey Ann. This is the name of a student at school who she reveres. I nodded my head- ok, well, we can try it out. So, she goes on to say that tomorrow she will inform her teacher about the name change. Okey dokey. And off to bed she went with a kiss and a prayer and a new name.

Minutes after saying goodnight- my oldest raced down the stairs to tell me that her little sister is crying. Really? A baffled me scuttles up the stairs because if little one is crying then something must be terribly wrong. She never cries- unless she is deeply wounded...physically or emotionally.

I entered a dark room with a weeping child. My child. She was sobbing that deep sob that comes out of a shadowed well that has an end that I haven’t yet reached.
-Honey, what is wrong? What happened baby?

And she tells me...

-If I am Carey Ann then I will lose everything.

And she goes on- sputtering through the tears...

-If I am Carey Ann-I will lose you. I will lose my family. I will lose it all.
--
It took me a long minute but of course I hit my head on the wall after I figured it out.
New name= Welcome to Alien Nation. The last time a name was given was the time that all that was known before was taken away. Family- gone. Culture- gone. Familiar smells- gone. Familiar food- gone. Favorite toy- Gone. Oh- and figure out a new way to go to the bathroom too.

What saved us that night? Music. Music can be balm in the worst and best of times. The only way to soothe her was to sing to her. I held her and sang every song that I could think of until she released herself to the Sand Man.

At the end I come back to the beginning- Please Don’t Stop the Rain.

I was writing this and listening to the song and my oldest shimmied by my side. I asked her what the lyrics meant to her- Why not stop the rain? I asked her. And she replied-

-When bad things happen they are trying to teach us a lesson. We need to listen to the rain.
--
Does she already know that she is wiser than I am? Probably, definitely, but she cares enough about me now to pretend that I have a slight upper hand. Sometimes our children’s words are gospel music to the ear. I kid myself into believing that I am the leader. I may write the lyrics sometimes but they sing the songs. Who remembers the writer? The singer takes center stage. So it should be.

-Diane

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Kids 4 Haiti - Here it is!

(I think I fixed the link, here is the full address- http://kids4haiti.blogspot.com )

Our solution to my 10 1/2 yr old (she insisted on adding the 1/2) who wants to digest the Haiti earthquake- she wants to listen to other children and how they are handling this tragedy. Reflection or action- she is listening.


Please visit her new blog Kids4Haiti and share your child's valuable perspective. I hope it provides your family with a great way to discuss and digest your own personal stories. We have so much to learn from you and yours.


Looking forward to reading your child's poems, seeing their drawings, listening to their prayers and hearing about their calls to action.


Use the comment section or link to your site!


-Diane

Haiti- Trying to Keep Up



Important Read- Full Transcript - Where Will All The Orphans Go- NPR


Aid groups say tens of thousands of Haitian children lost their parents in the earthquake last week, adding to the country's 350,000 orphans. In response, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security is aiming to expedite adoptions already underway by American families. The Joint Council on International Children's Services Chief Executive Thomas DiFilipo tells NPR how the Haitian adoption process will be affected by the disaster.

---

Follow Soledad O’Brien on Twitter as she currently makes her way to the US Embassy with 87 children -


This is such a crazy thing. (about 1 hour ago from web)

Okay backing up Not easy in a bus on a street in haiti. Kids peeing in bottles. (about 1 hour ago from web )

Funny thought: I've felt overwhelmed when I had four toddlers. There are 80 in this bus. Four clinging to me for dear life. Perspective (about 1 hour ago from web )

Super hot in this bus. Car abandoned in front of us. So we are stuck. (about 1 hour ago from web)
Get there. We will follow them thru the process. (about 1 hour ago from web )

Hitched a ride on the bus to the embassy. 87 kids on this bus. Followed by a van w 27 babies. Totally unclear what will happen when they (about 1 hour ago from web )

Western union is open. Surrounded by the cops. We're headed back to maison des enfants--want to ck on their situation.( about 2 hours ago from web)


-----


Last night my oldest daughter asked me – What can we do?

I started rattling off the various financial efforts we have made and then I realized that she wasn’t asking me- What did you do? But, What can WE do (or) What can I do?

She is old enough to absorb some of the Haiti crisis and I will need to figure out a way for her to process through such an enormous tragedy and help alleviate the helplessness that frankly- we all feel. That is where I am at this morning- spinning ideas in my head for ways that our children can reach out to Haiti too.

I’ll let you know what I come up with and would appreciate your thoughts on how you are engaging your children regarding Haiti. As a parent it is difficult to navigate when to share and when to shield.

-Diane

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Cause & Effect




(photo- one of my favorite places to spend time with my Dad as he fished beneath the bridge. It is now his final resting place.)



Last night my oldest (OD) said to me-



So, we are learning about cause and effect at school.

--

She asked me what the biggest cause and effect event was in my life and I told her that I would need to think about it. I asked her if she knew what hers was and she immediately replied-


My biological mom left me and so I had to be adopted.


--
In my life there is nothing as clear cut as far as cause and effect goes. Being abused as a child would be high on the list. It dramatically changed my trust level in others and has certainly had a profound effect on my life. After my father died I took on the great task of rummaging through his endless papers. I discovered that he still had the police records and social worker’s record who handled my abuse case. I should have thrown them away without reading through them but it was like trying to avert my eyes from a car crash. Included was my young voice’s graphic account. I never use expletives in front of my girls -but they were with me- and one slid out of my mouth as I scanned the documents. Eventually, I did throw those papers away- and that had a defining effect too.


The events leading up to- and my parents’ subsequent divorce would be up there. It left me separated from my mother and living with my Dad above a garage. It would take a long time for my mom and me to find our way back to each other. Thankfully, we did because I could not have survived the death of my father without her by my side.


And then there is a failed marriage, new marriage, medical tests-medical diagnosis –surgeries, working with children fighting emotional turmoil and I’m sure that shameful job I had where I dressed up as a Southern Belle and waved to people probably caused some kind of effect...


Death of course- the death of pets, friends and family.


And the death of my father. I am still unclear about what exactly the effect will be. Most definitely the effect is profound and not just for me. My children live with their own grief and the regurgitation of their own fears and losses.


Speaking of my children- certainly becoming a mother has had an effect like no other. Adopting my youngest was how I met my oldest so they are their own cause and effect in how they came into our family. The hardships in my own history help me understand pieces of my children. What was once difficult can now be used for good.


My children brought me here- to you. Because of them I gained a set of friends, both virtual and real, that otherwise would have never been a part of my life. It is one effect of adoption that has been a wonderful positive in my life. So, here’s to you, and thank you for opening up here and sharing your thoughts and perspective- one and all. I have also learned so much from your blogs from all angles of the triad. I hope you feel welcome here.


I am currently writing about adoption and death – how the process of losing and grieving for my father has unearthed larger adoption pain within my girls. I will share it here when it is finished. In the meantime please read Paula’s post ( at Heart Mind & Seoul) discussing this issue from the perspective of an adoptee and adoptive mother-


What is your biggest cause & effect?

-
Diane

Saturday, January 9, 2010

The China Lady - Really?




This blog post, I Miss My Foster Family, featured on the No Hands but Ours blog, has prompted interesting conversations within our family. No Hands but Ours is a website dedicated to advocating for ‘special needs’ children in China. I am the proud mom to two ‘special needs’ girls. My first was adopted from China at age 2 ½ and my second came home a few weeks shy of 8.


The author of the provoking blog entry writes the following about a discussion with her daughter adopted from China:

---


“Last week, she was keeping me company in the master bathroom while I was putting on my makeup and doing my hair when her face suddenly got all serious and she announced, solemnly, that she missed her foster family."I miss my foster family, sooo much! I really want to visit them but you won't let me and that makes me sad. I feel like I have two hearts thumping in me." Then she patted her chest to show me where those two hearts were thumping.It was sweet and touching and I stroked her silky cheek with the back of my hand and told her that I love her two hearts with all of my one heart. Then I gently reminded her that she doesn't have a foster family.


Yep, she made it all up.


She was never in foster care in China so she clearly didn't really miss her foster family. And she knows what a foster family is so there's no confusion about that either. She was merely pretending. She has a beautiful imagination and frequently tells stories with fuzzy edges between reality and fantasy and this was just another story to her. She probably hasn't even thought about it again but I sure have.”


The author follows up with this comment in the comment section of her post:


“My girls know where they were before we adopted them but we call it a SWI or "the big baby room" and never call it an orphanage. The orphanages in the cartoons are not the same and we didn't want them to have an incorrect image of where they were or why they were there. They know they didn't grow inside my belly but they don't know the term "birth mother" or "first mother". To them, "mother" is synonymous with permanent love and the knowledge that their mother gave them away would only cause them to worry that someday I'll do it too. Especially if their first mother did it because she loved them. How confusing would THAT be? We tell them that they grew inside the China Lady's tummy (and that is why they are Chinese). None of these modified titles and names are lies. It's all truth. But it's served up in sizes that don't confuse them or make them sad.So I guess I'm saying that the terminology made all of the difference to our kids. In time, all of the pieces will fall into place but they're content with the kindergarten version of the details we've shared so far.”


---


I, to put it mildly, was pretty blown away by this adoptive parent’s logic. This evening I decided to go straight to my own sources for their reactions. First, I casually asked my little one (age 6) what she thought about referring to a first mother as the China Lady.


Her response was a very concerned –


WHY? Why would someone do that?


I asked her how she would feel if we didn’t use the word mother when referring to her first mom and she said-


It wouldn’t be nice. She is my mother and she deserves a beautiful word- Mother is a beautiful word.


Next, I asked my oldest daughter (age 10) for her perspective. She wasn’t a part of my conversation with her sister. I asked her the same questions and she said-


My biological mother gave me life- calling her mother is giving her the respect that she deserves. China Lady isn’t explaining who she is. She is not some random person in China- she is my mother! I think that calling her something different is really weird.


I went on to read through and discuss the blog post in its entirety with my oldest.


She was in awe of the author’s daughter’s explanation of having two hearts. WOW- she said- that is so big and so true. When we got to the part about the author’s daughter having made it all up- my daughter reacted strongly and said-


She didn’t make it ALL up. Those feelings about missing another family are REAL.


As for terminology- my daughter was confused. She said-


You can’t change the words and make it better. An orphanage is an orphanage. Inside the orphanage is an area with babies. In China we called it the baby zone not the baby room (news to me!). An orphanage has children of all ages- not just babies. I don’t get changing the words. It makes it more confusing.


---


The author also writes as a part of her blog post:


“I can make her believe that she's suffered tragic and unfair losses, that people on the other side of the world cry for her and miss her and think about her every day, that it's perfectly understandable that she'd miss them too. And even though all that might very well be true, there's a pretty good chance that she wouldn't be spending any time thinking about it if I didn't make a ritual out of putting it under her nose and helping her scrutinize her feelings about it. In other words, I'm careful not to treat my kids like injured baby birds because they might start believing that's what they are.”


---
My daughter’s reaction to the above-


I would be thinking about my biological mother and my history whether or not you talked about it. I always have. It is inside me. It is a part of my life. My life didn’t start when I was adopted. I think that I would explode if I were that little girl! It doesn’t make it better by not talking about it- it makes it worse. I would be sad and lonely if we didn’t talk about these things.

So there you have it. I refrained from sharing my own thoughts and feelings until my children had expressed their own. We have never shied away from these discussions and I don’t believe that I have created 2 injured birds because of these discussions. In fact, I believe the opposite- the girls are stronger and we are stronger as a family because we do have these discussions. They rely on me to listen. They rely on me to listen to their pain and that pain surfaces in different ways during different developmental stages. We have been having these discussions from the get go with my then 2 ½ year old and have continued them for over the past 4 years.


Both of my daughters had two mothers before I came along. Do they remember their first mother- no. Is she a large part of their emotional life- yes. Absolutely yes.


As for terminology- ours is fluid and depends on the conversation- we use first mother, birth mother, biological mother and sometimes just plain- mother. According to my children, and my own gut reaction- taking out mother is not an option.


Malinda at Adoption Talk has a good post that addresses these issues-


Looking forward to your thoughts.


-Diane

(Thank you all so much for your support after my Dad's passing. I am still learning to navigate this world without him.)

Edited to add:
I was surprised to see this same ‘take out mother from mother’ theme in a link provided by TongguMomma in her Sunday Linkage. There is a lot of good in the post by Just Add One Chinese Sister in “Just my 2 cents on adoption, try to be nice”(regarding Gotcha Day and Adoption Books) but here is where I got lost-


“My daughter only has 1 Mommy, that's me. We honor her birth Mother, but she is not Eme's Mommy. It's obvious that Eme had another Mother before me, but to give the title of 'Mommy' to the unknown lady on the other side of the world would confuse any child.”


And the comments that nod in agreement-


“We have agreed that Avery has one set of parents - that's us. We recognize the fact that she does have "birth parents" but we don't call them birthmother or birthfather...We will teach her their first names and will never refer to them as her her (sic) parents. I know there are some who would blast us for that, but it's what we decided. We are all for being open and honest about her adoption, but like you said it doesn't define who she is...”


And-


“I agree with you and would never think of saying our daughter has two mothers - she only has one. And one father also.”

Another Add- further discussion on this topic can be found here-

O Solo Mama

Monday, October 26, 2009

Dear Daddy


Daddy-


Today I vacuumed. I really needed to. The dog hair was puddling underneath the dog’s sofa. You know the green sofa next to the window- next to the view of the river that you sat and stared out at from the red sofa. I mean those little hairs, they truly were piling. I know, his hair is so short and all but I guess it is some kind of shedding season. Yesterday I did laundry. I washed and dried it. Today I put it away. The day before that- I don’t remember what I did. That day is an empty memory. The day before the day I don’t remember- it was the day you left. I remember that day. I remember my brother’s voice- the doctor’s voice- calling from the hospital. They wanted my permission to cease CPR and all of the other electric shock, medicine shooting to your heart- they wanted me to say OK to letting you die already. The doctor was a woman and she apologized for asking me to make these decisions from so far away. She was nice and she answered all of the questions that I could think of- but there weren’t a lot of questions to ask. You had this little brain electrical thing but other than that- I guess you were already gone.


And then there was arranging the cremation thing and talking to mom as she tried to pick out the right box for you...a box you won’t be in for long...a box that maybe doesn’t contain you at all. A fisherman engraved on the box, a flag??? We decided on nothing...just your name. What would you have chosen?


So now you are not in this world with me and I am having an impossible time without you. Not absolutely impossible, I am taking care of our little one who is throwing up and running a fever. But, I am distracted, constantly distracted by your absence. The first day I cried. The days after I couldn’t find the tears ... I waited for them. I studied your picture and asked when the tears would come back.....because my entire body, my whole being, went into this weird robot mode. Robots don’t cry. Yes, I know, me my emotional me- rendered to a robotic state. True- but I apologize- I know you expect much more.


Every day without you is a day with something terribly missing. I will need to go back home now, within days, fly across the country and sort through your things- our things as you kept my room the same all of these years later. Should I sleep there- will you comfort me or keep me awake? Whatever you want. I don’t feel ready because I can’t feel a heck of a lot without hearing your voice every day. I almost pick up the phone a dozen times a day before I realize that you won’t be answering.


It’s like every minute that I can’t hear your voice a part of me dissolves. I know- that makes you mad. You want me to be strong. You know I need to be strong- I am a mom and all. I will try harder.


I love you-wherever you are. I miss you so much.


Your Daughter Forever and Ever,


Di Di
xoxo

Thursday, October 8, 2009

What's In a Name? Kind of a lot.



I would be willing to bet, and I am not the betting type (except for slot machines-I like those darn things), that my children have names that I don’t know.


Surely, they must. Didn’t their mothers rub their swollen bellies- as my girls wiggled, kicked and fed from their bodies- didn’t they rub their bellies and hush my girls with a name? Isn’t that how it works- pregnancy, child birth- that the child is welcomed into the world with a name? There isn’t some Chinese cultural prohibition of naming before the child is born, right? I don’t know. You tell me. But in the realm of my imagination- it seems likely, it seems probable- that my children’s first names are locked inside their mothers in China. Maybe when my girls were born their names remained behind. Letters strung through the hearts of their mothers and never purged. Purposely hidden. Purposely protected. Purposely withheld and sealed within.


When I was a child I loved the film The Never Ending Story. The child empress, residing in the other world of Fantasia, calls to a little boy on Earth to say her name or her world will be destroyed by the Nothingness.


The Empress: Bastian... Please! All you have to do is say my name Bastian: But how? The Empress: just say it...! Bastian: yes...! I will say it ...[crawls to the window and yells out in the night] Bastian: MOONCHILD!


Will my children yearn for their first names to be called out? Will the Nothingness feel like it is approaching without ever hearing their first name called into the night?


Of course, I am making this all up. That is my privilege as an adoptive parent. I get to make a lot of things up. Actually, maybe their mothers did reveal their names- wrote them on a piece of scrap paper- pinned them onto the girls- and somebody, someone, somewhere- tore that precious paper up-with their boldly written first name- and threw it away. Or maybe the paper is sitting in their orphanage file in a warehouse in China. Waiting for me to find it. See- I can make all kinds of things up. It’s a trans-cultural-trans-national-trans-racial Adoptive parent kind of a thing. We do this.


Each of my girls have 4 names- Was I overcompensating for the 1st name that I don’t know? Maybe. I don’t think so. Probably.


The first (my first not their first) we gave them.


The second was given by the orphanage in China. (I think. As far as I know.)


The third is either a paternal or maternal grandmother’s name.

The last- my husband’s.


As for the Chinese names in the middle- Ahhh. They are beautiful names. I often call them by their first two names together. But (strong but) we threw out their Chinese surname which translates to...drum roll...Orphanage/Institution. The orphanage from which they were adopted handed out that surname to many a child before recently changing it to something...um... a little nicer.


So what are their Chinese names? Indeed they are lovely but the pronunciation is a little tricky-

My 6 yr old is Ya Lan- Did you say Ya Lan ( which rhymes with Can) no, no, no. The Y in Ya is silent (Ah) and the Lan is closer to Lahn. Her Chinese nickname- Lan Lan. (Lahn-Lahn) All together it means Mountain Mist.


My 10 yr old is Yu Si- Did you say You-See? no, no, no. It is pronounced more like Ew-Sah. It means together Rain Silk or Fine Silk. Her Chinese nickname - Si Si (Sah Sah)


Oh- and in addition to their four names known and one unknown (maybe)- they called each other in China by their relationship names. Respectively- Mei Mei (little sister) and Jie Jie ( big sister). And if they were speaking Cantonese (which they did in their foster home)- Mei Mei would be Moi Moi- which is what our Cantonese friends still calls my youngest.


So how many names are we at now? I lost count. What was I talking about? Right. Right. Names. Which brings me to a silly little website I found where you can write your own name poem by filling out a questionnaire...I did it. And here is the result. If you do it too- let me know. I want to read it. In case you don’t know- I am Diane. AKA- Tinkertoy (I know, my Mom owes me).

Diane- It means protective vulnerable thoughtful,

It is the number 3,

It is like swamp mud,

It is holding hands with my children,

It is the memory of those I never met,

Who taught me forgiveness openness,

When they were gone before they said hello,

My name is Diane, It means Mommy.


-Diane



Participating in the Grown in My Heart Carnival here

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Adoption, Disruption & Moon Cakes



This post is bound to be all over the place as my brain is shooting off in so many directions.
Culture keeping. Older child adoption. Bonding vs. attachment vs. both. Disruption (hate to even type out the word).


One thing about adopting an older child trans-culturally- I realized abruptly how absolutely clueless I was.

YD was 2 ½ at the time of adoption. About a year ago (at age 5) she asked me if I kidnapped her. It was just kind of thrown out there in a silent moment. It was after we had returned from China with her older sister. It was after she had watched her sister’s entire adoption unfold, paper by paper, plane by plane, stamp by stamp, official by official by official and then the red ink foot seal of approval. She saw it all. She witnessed trans-cultural adoption in action.


None of it, not a wit, erased the lingering dark feeling she carried for years- an entwined part of the fabric of her being- that we, her now parents forever and ever and ever, were indeed kidnappers. I thought walking step by step through the adoption process would ease her inner fears. Not. She remembered keenly the emotions of those first weeks with us and what she expressed was a profound anger and grief from being a kidnapping victim. I will never forget her fumbling with the hotel telephone- if only she knew how to call for help. I will never forget her insistence that her shoes remain on- just in case she saw an opportunity to run. I will never forget her screams of despair every time we returned to the hotel and she saw the elevator light for up- up to captivity.


When we returned with YD to China there was an intense amount of reassuring that she asked us to do. What if my foster family wants me back? Will you let them take me? Will you fight them? What if they steal me...how will you find me? How long will you try to find me? Will you give up on finding me if I am gone for a long time? How long? How long will you try?

And when she returned, when she saw her foster family, when she was carried by foster mom like a hero through her old village as she munched on Chinese cheetos...she was just fine. And when we went into her foster home and she saw her old bed and old toys- fine. But, the next day when the foster mother made an unexpected appearance, one we hadn’t plotted and planned on, it was not ok anymore. In fact she howled in terror as her foster mother tried to hold and embrace her. Our guide told me- just let the foster mother hold onto her...let her hold her even if she is crying because she might not get another chance.

Shredded me.


And OD- adopted at age almost 8 and now 10. We were asked by the foster family to come back for her. I was hesitant. That is a soft word for what I felt. Actually, I said no. NO WAY. I was scared and just then starting to bring YD to some kind of peaceful inner place. I was asked to return on the cusp of having built some level of trust with YD. So, initially I said no, but that no- for a plethora of reasons- didn’t stick.

OD came home and she would have probably met almost every criteria for a Reactive Attachment Diagnosis. Her issues were the top reasons listed by Adoptive Parents to justify disruption. As scared as I was prior to her adoption- I could have never anticipated the challenges ahead. More importantly- I could have never anticipated the sheer honor it is to call her my daughter.


In my first post placement and after discussing her issues with our adoption agency- you would have thought that Satan was hanging out in our home. Even, as frustrated and afraid as I was for her future/our future, I became quite defensive about the suggestion that maybe we might want to consider therapeutic residential treatment. My God- if after only six months, she was so traumatized, how in the world would sending her away ease that trauma? The nearest ‘Attachment Specialist” was a leisurely 4 hour round trip from our home. In the end, I decided to learn everything and anything that I could on how to forge an attachment with my oldest daughter- how could I help her feel safe-how could I make sure that we were all safe in the process.


OD and I discuss those difficult days/months with a frank honesty now. She was in so much pain and so overwhelmed by an old life of trauma and a new life of the complete unknown. We have grown together over the past 2 ½ years. A couple of step forwards and a dozen steps back- but we have continued a forward motion. When I read news about Anita Tedaldi (read at Malinda’s China Adoption Talk) and the enormous sympathy she is receiving for not bonding with her child and subsequently disrupting the adoption- heck, I could have disrupted and been showered in roses. Maybe they would have thrown a parade in my name. Maybe someone would have bought me a timeshare in Disney World so I could drown my guilt away in the whirling tea cups.


Which brings me to yesterday- that day that OD shared with me about her experiences with the Moon Festival aka Mid-Autumn Festival in China. I was not teaching her about the Moon Festival...no, no, no. I was the student. She shared her memories of the neighbors all turning off their electricity, the light of the moon next to the darkness of her village, the lantern that she almost caught on fire, and the many shapes , flavors and faces of the moon cake. It is one of the most amazing things about adopting an older child- they become their own culture keepers and as parents we strive to remember their memories. Just in case one day they forget- -we strive to remember their stories for them. Their stories- and theirs alone. I wish that I could find the Moon goddess legend that she remembers in part- it included a pig and darn if I can’t find any version with a swine mention.


The post of Jae Ran’s of Harlow’s Monkey that discusses adoptees returning to China to a quasi-hero’s welcome. I can’t imagine that the hoopla would go over well with OD. She had a hard enough time with the smoke and mirrors of the Beijing Olympics and the subsequent information that comes to us from China as we struggle to put her puzzle together without all of the pieces. OD lived and breathed her native China for 8 years- no need to spoon feed her some glorified version. She wouldn’t bite. But, she does savor the memory of the yearly gathering of her Chinese community to watch the moon and she does indeed glow when she talks about those sweet little moon cakes.


Bringing me to the end. The face of Faith. She was adopted from Ethiopia. Her adoptive parents wrote a raving report of this child- who loves God- who loves the Babies- Who loves the Elderly-who saved the lives of her 2 Sisters-who loves to Sing- who loves to cook her Ethiopian cuisine- who can’t stay in her adoptive home anymore because she was a victim of abuse and sometimes may act out the abuse- BUT in no means is she a sexual predator.


The adoptive family is sad.


This is always the story. The adoptive family is sad. I’ve heard this tale a dozen times. The poor sad adoptive family. The adoptive family who is merely a stepping stone to the ‘real’ family and praise God that they rescued these children from desperation to be delivered.

I, for one, will be praying for Faith. I , for one, will be praying for the CHILD. Because if adoption isn’t about the child...then what?

-Diane

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Auction Will End TODAY! Last Chance to Bid!

Thanks to everyone who placed a bid so far!

Auction for Love Without Boundaries- view items and bid here

Monday, September 21, 2009

The Girls Say Thanks - video


This was not rehearsed. I posted this on our charity auction site but I wanted to share it here as well with those that have followed our family and our progress with attachment issues.

There were days, days that stretched into months, when I wondered if my oldest would ever truly care about something. Anything. Her first 8 years in China were filled with such incredible pain that one day, long ago, she just turned her care switch off.

To live in this day, with this child, and watch her freely give and speak with such genuine compassion, with deep profound care for others- it is one of the most humbling experiences of my life.

I believe that every single child holds inside the most beautiful blinding light. For some, the light gets buried under mounds and mounds of trauma- but the light is always in there- somewhere. As parents it is our responsibility to keep digging, even when our arms are about to fall off, even when we are about to collapse from the sheer mental and physical exhaustion it takes trying to find that light. Because when it starts shining- wow- it is the greatest miracle to behold.

If you haven't found your child's light- keep digging. You can't stop now. It is so worth it and they deserve to shine again.

-Diane

Friday, September 18, 2009

What Nobody Told Me- Blog Carnival





What nobody told me?


Well, I am pretty sure that I wasn’t listening. No. I wasn’t. I definitely wasn’t listening. It’s not like the voices weren’t out there- screaming at me. But, I was shrouded in a cloak of pre-adoption bliss and with that comes deafness. If there was a stirring of a mumble- I effortlessly self prescribed an inability to hear. I wasn’t mute by any means. I had an awful lot to spout out, oh I went on and on, but nothing was getting in.


I read all of the books. You know- those freaky ones to read. Check. Check. But the words went in my eyes and out my ears. I didn’t swallow them and let them settle in my gut. Because then I might have been nauseous and I was way too happy to throw up.


It started on the plane. The second one- the one from Japan to China.


I noticed that I didn’t have black hair and I felt weird about it. I noticed that I couldn’t understand the stewardess when she was showing me how to use the oxygen mask and I couldn’t read the signs she pointed to that might mean my survival if the plane broke. I hate planes.


And then I stepped off of the plane in China.


That is when the screaming started. I mean when I started to hear it. Ever since then I haven’t been able to shut it up. Actually, it seems to grow louder every day. Maybe every minute of every day.


When I stepped off the plane my knee jerk reaction was to get the hell back on and ask the pilot to take me back. I don’t know if he spoke English but I am sure I could have gotten my point across somehow. My feet moved forward but my brain moved back. What was I thinking? What was I doing? What had I done? The smells overwhelmed me. The water smelled funny. I don’t know why that bothered me so much. What bothered me even more was that I couldn’t drink it. I knew about the bathroom but it was totally different when I was standing there trying to use it. Then the stares started and they never stopped. Even here- they don’t stop.

I knew this would be my daughter- those smells, those faces, their black hair, their water, their food- and I just wanted to find a Starbucks and forget the whole darn international adoption thing. I was a foreigner- she was a foreigner- how could we possibly make that work? I was an alien and she would be an alien to me. Panic. Jet lag. Weak minded me. I know you are screaming at me. I can hear you now.


My daughter first stood in front of me, all 2 ½ years of her, with a raging fever and tears in her eyes. Visiting a hospital in China was our first mother daughter activity. I think that was something that somebody actually did forget to tell me.


A few days and a lot of screaming later- we met her foster family. It was then that I knew that I was adding a whole lot more people to my family then I expected. Nobody told me that when I adopted my first daughter that I would meet my second daughter and that my kids already had a family thank you and I was responsible for maintaining connections to their/our extended family from the other side of the world. In addition, I was responsible for maintaining connections to a family that I couldn’t see- the invisible first family- and someday I would need to flesh them out- begin the search for a needle in a haystack. And that needle might prick my heart. I don’t know yet. But I’ve heard.


I certainly didn’t know- and this time I was listening- that I would be strolling, down the street, hand in hand, with a 10 year old who looks absolutely completely and utterly nothing like me and her beauty would take my breath away. I stopped mid-stride to embrace her and I was overwhelmed with the enormous privilege of being able to do so.


And as I sit here, writing in this place, with a 6 year old who is home from school early with a fever- I can see her and feel her even when I am not looking-and there is nothing alien about it at all. Nobody told me that part either.


Written in participation with Grown in My Hearts first Adoption Carnival.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Charity Chosen- Hope I'm Doing this Right!



After much debate and considering many great charities- when the girls saw a Love Without Boundaries video about heart babies- well, lets just say their 'hearts' were sure.


So 50 percent of all sales at Charity Garage will be given to LWB's Heart Fund.


From Love Without Boundaries-


"Our Heart Surgery Fund provides treatment and life-saving surgeries for orphaned children in China who born with heart defects. Since 2005 we have funded over 200 heart surgeries for children throughout China. Many times we learn of children who need immediate heart surgery. This fund allows us to send a child to the hospital right away.We gratefully accept both monthly sponsorships and one-time donations to our Heart Surgery Fund. Your donation will be used to help the most urgent children. One-time donors will receive sponsorship reports for one year, including photos and post-surgery updates of children helped through this fund. Monthly sponsors will receive reports for the duration of their sponsorship.It is our hope that this fund will help many children to have healthy hearts!"


The girls are so excited and I am so excited for them. This is their first venture into fundraising other than for school or dropping off a box at Goodwill. They have put so much thought into it and have eagerly chosen to part some of their treasured items. To say I am proud is an understatement.


And apparently I am a little nervous too- last night I had a nightmare. I was reading a website that listed all of the parents blogs with the best and worst dressed children. Guess what parent made the kids worst dressed list?? ME! I thought-in my nighmarish state- nobody is going to buy anything and the girls will be devestated!!! Yikes.


Where I need help - right now Charity Garage is set up with a LWB donation button and a Charity Garage Button. Buyers would split their purchase price and use both buttons to pay each half. After I receive receipt that both payments have been made then off to the post office we go. Does that make sense? That way the charity funds for Love Without Boundaries will go directly to them. Also, what is a good length of time to hold an online auction? 1 week? 2 weeks? Should I set minimum bids on items that have greater value or just leave it to faith?


Anyone know how I can make a button for Charity Garage for people to embed on their blogs if they wish? I need to go google that one...


I will continue to upload item photos and should be ready to start the auction this weekend!


Thanks so much,

Diane


Sunday, September 13, 2009

Conversations & Charity Garage Auction




We’ve been having some conversations on how to resolve my need to hoard all things related to my children. As I have discussed previously- I am a organization, clutter free freak. The exception to this is my inability to let go of my children’s clothes (that don’t fit long ago), books and toys that they have grown out and all of their artwork. The artwork I still need to hold onto but I think we have found a solution to releasing the other clutter.


Yesterday we took a long walk on our favorite (no longer used) railroad tracks. We decided that we will do an online auction garage sale with half of the proceeds going to a charity chosen by the girls. I have set up the blog-



The sale will include clothing from size 24months up to 8/10s. Lots of gently used toys and book (child’s lit and adult) Some of the clothing was purchased in China. Brands included will be Disney, Old Navy, Osh Kosh & Matilda Jane. I hope there will be something for everyone-especially in the book section.


Right now it is empty but soon I will start to add items and once I finish the bidding can begin. I will flesh out the details and get them to you soon. This is my first go at something like this so let me know if you have any tips!


Also, please, in the comments section, leave us your favorite charity to consider. I will review all of the suggestions with the girls. I am looking forward to sharing our progress as we tackle this family project. I hope it will be a wonderful learning experience for all of us.
-Diane

Friday, September 11, 2009

Adoptive Parents- No Worries Ya'll! It's all Good.



Listen for Joy by Melanie Weidner


This, in newspaper format,was received today in the mailbox- sent by my MIL (who thought it was 'interesting'). Whew. I was doing so much worrying for nothing- so much research for naught. Because as Mr. Rosemand says- our adopted children (even with severe early trauma) will 'recover quite nicely when adopted by loving parents'. Love. I got some of that! Love is enough. Love rules. Love solves all. Whew. What a relief. Down with the hocus pocus and rejoice in the love ya'll! If not- 'It just ain't right.' - Diane


9/1/09
Living with Children John Rosemond Copyright 2009, John K. Rosemond

As a psychologist, I am a member of what is called the “helping professions.” The term is generally accurate­—most of us are helpful, most of the time. Nonetheless, it conceals the fact that when all is said and done, mental health care is a business. As such, entrepreneurial mental health professionals are no different than other businesspeople: they try to create new “products” and new markets. An example is the relatively new field of “adoption specialist.” The not-so-implicit message behind this specialty: adoption is a special circumstance fraught with psychological IEDs that cannot be negotiated properly without a constant vigilance; thus, the need for a specially-trained professional to guide one through the adoption minefield.


I recently spoke with the parents of a 3-year-old whom they adopted from overseas shortly after she was born. Since then, several adoption specialists have told them that a rather nebulous condition called “attachment disorder” is an ever-present threat to their child’s mental health. Apparently, her primary attachment is to her biological mother, even after three years. According to said professionals, she remembers her mother’s face, smell, and voice, and there is a part of her psyche that is constantly grieving the loss. This unresolved (unresolvable?) issue manifests itself in anxieties, fears, shyness, temper tantrums, defiance, moodiness, and other behaviors associated with normal toddlerhood.


The little girl’s parents have no reason to think that people with capital letters after their names are pulling things out of thin air, so this barrage of misinformation has kept them in a perpetual state of anxiety. They have come to see the issue of their daughter’s adoption behind every imperfect behavior. In addition, they’ve been told that they should make every effort to compensate for the child’s ever-present attachment issues, including allowing her to occupy the marital bed. When she misbehaves, they don’t know whether to respond with understanding or discipline. Consequently, their attempts to discipline are generally ineffective. While they were talking with me, the mother’s turmoil was especially evident. She exerted great effort to keep from sobbing.

These parents are not alone. Over the years, I’ve spoken to numerous adoptive parents who have received similar apocalyptic, anxiety-arousing information and advice from adoption specialists. To be fair, I’ve also met adoption specialists who do not hold to these views, but they testify to being in the minority and to not being well-received by their peers.The facts: A consistent body of hard, objectively-gathered scientific evidence to the effect that adopted children are more prone to psychological problems than children who live with one or two biological parents is lacking. On the other hand, there is significant evidence to the effect that even orphaned children exposed during their early, supposedly “formative” years to severe conditions of emotional deprivation and material neglect recover quite nicely when adopted by loving parents. For more on the subject, I highly recommend Dr. John Bruer’s The Myth of the First Three Years (The Free Press, 1999). An excellent related article can be found at http://www.gladwell.com/2000/2000_01_10_a_baby.htm.The unscientific claims being disseminated by certain adoption specialists does no measurable good for adopted children and presents the potential of doing significant emotional harm to adoptive parents, the parents above being a case in point. As we are given to say in North Carolina, “It just ain’t right.”

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Skin Bleaching now targeting Asian Men



CNN By Sara Sidner -

"In one TV commercial, two men, one with dark skin, the other with light skin; stand on a balcony overlooking a neighborhood. The dark skin guy turns to his friend and says in Hindi, "I am unlucky because of my face." His light skin friend replies, "Not because of your face, because of the color of your face."
Suddenly the light skin guy throws his friend a cream. It's a whitening cream."


You can read the full article and watch the commercial here - CNN


This stuff is horrific and blantantly racist. I have a 6 year old Chinese-American daughter with gorgeous porcelian white skin. I have a 10 year old Chinese-American daughter with insanely beautiful bronze skin that still suffers from 8 years of using bleaching soap in China.


I used to be a big fan of Nive@ products until I saw their ad placement in the commercial. No more. Do you ban a product in your home due to racist ties? We also banned the pimped up Br@tz dolls - one reason (of many) was after reading the NLC's report here on the terrible conditions the dolls were made under in China.


I know I am missing a million other issues that I need to support through not purchasing items or bringing them into our home. Let me know what I am missing!


-Diane



Saturday, September 5, 2009

Meet Little Brother



Little Brother


Mulan has a dog named Little Brother- and we have a katydid. He’s a boy. Apparently their –um- backsides are shaped differently than the female katydid. Who knew?


This bug has completely captivated me. He is currently in a vase on the dining room table and I keep thinking I need to release him to the garden – but I don’t want to part ways just yet. Yup. Weird. I don’t know what it is about him...the alien eyes, the slinky antennae, his obsession with licking his feet...but, I can’t stop looking at him.


And then there is the fact that he shouldn’t be here in the first place. This particular katydid, a drumming one, is supposed to be living on the East Coast of the US- not the West. How did he get here? Did he hitch a ride on our luggage that just returned from my home visit to PA?


Speaking of our home visit- we went to see my Dad and it was difficult. He’s sick and it makes me intensely sad to once again be far away from him. Anyway, before we left my dad was released from the hospital and I drove him to all of our favorite places. We visited covered bridges that I played under when I was small and my favorite rock by my Dad’s favorite creek that my children’s shoes have now stood on too. Is that where our katydid hitched a ride? Or was it under the Arch in Valley Forge or maybe he was residing in a log cabin or maybe he was on that hill where I used to fly my kite? If only Little Brother could talk beyond his drumming sounds.


I need to find the courage to let him go someday. The katydid.


-Diane

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

View China's Lost & Stolen Children




A missing child from Guangdong Province, China- born June 2004 and went missing in June 2006


If you have adopted a child from China please look through the photolistings of missing and stolen children here. It is absolutely possible that some of these children ended up in orphanages and were adopted internationally. Such was the case with a now teenager who was lost in China, placed in an orphanage, adopted to the United States and now in reunion with his first family which you can read about here and follow their blog here.


Some children do not have photos available but do have information about their age, appearance and location when then went missing. There are hundreds of listings and it is time consuming to review all of the files- but it is the least we can do for the children and their families who live with the unimaginable pain of not knowing.


I understand that facing the thought that your child might have been trafficked, lost, stolen is incredibly intimidating. But, imagine for the briefest moment if the tables were turned. I’ve always admired Julia Rollings who learned that her children adopted from India were stolen and not voluntarily relinquished. She has gracefully navigated through tragic circumstances.


The children’s information can be translated through babelfish. Copy and paste the information and chose translate from simp-Chinese to English. It will not be a completely accurate translation but it will be close enough.


Thank you in advance and please consider using your blogs/websites to encourage others to search the database-if only just to pray for these children. Of course you may also just simply link to here.

UPDATE
I think google translate is a better option than babelfish. Paste the site http://www.baobeihuijia.com
into google translate- http://translate.google.com/?hl=en#
There is a search feature at the top of the photolisting page.
-Diane

Saturday, August 22, 2009

I *heart* Jeanne-Ming



art by Jeanne-Ming


I was delighted to see that Jeanne- Ming joined this blog as a follower. What an honor! If you haven’t yet entered Jeanne-Ming’s visionary world then you must go now! Not only do I admire Jeanne-Ming’s incredible art work but her writing is equally wonderful. I am drawn to minimalist writers- the talented writers of our world who so simply and succinctly convey emotion with very few words. Jeanne-Ming’s writing enchants like a Haiku.


Her artwork can also be viewed on her website.


-Diane

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Skinny Jeans & Tsunami & A Book


I was already bummed out by the plethora of skinny jeans scattered throughout the sales ads in today’s newspaper. How in the heavens could skinny jeans make a comeback? It’s enough to get the ball rolling on a mid-life crisis. Why can’t mu-mus take hold of the fashion world? Seriously- they are bright, fun, flowy and come in an endless print selection. In my attempt to lash out against the skinny-mini world I decided to head out to the gas station and get me a soda. And then it got worse.


Found tucked inside my truck door was a paper which reads as follows-


Sept 2010 Mega Quack-Tsunami to ruin US West Coast
Multiple, supernatural, confirmations, backing this for Sept 2010 & collapse to follow. Investigation into this is vital for U & family to build faith, to prepare. Read of George Washington’s angelic visitation. Read of 3 people in 1 night getting same dream and other amazing signs. If U doubt at least get away from West coast by Sept 3 or possibly wind up dead. Most of all, this message given thru Jesus Christ as sign to U. Is your name written in his book of life or RU still under the curse of death? See what else is to come!

UGH.


In other news, I am currently reading “The Great Call of China” by Cynthia Liu. It is tween chick lit but the plot intrigued me.


Synopsis-
“Chinese-born Cece was adopted when she was two years old by her American parents. Living in Texas, she’s bored of her ho-hum high school and dull job. So when she learns about the S.A.S.S. program to Xi’an, China, she jumps at the chance. She’ll be able to learn about her passion—anthropology—and it will give her the opportunity to explore her roots. But when she arrives, she receives quite a culture shock. And the closer she comes to finding out about her birth parents, the more apprehensive she gets. Enter Will, the cute guy she first meets on the plane. He and Cece really connect during the program. But can he help her get accustomed to a culture she should already know about, or will she leave China without the answers she’s been looking for?”


Already I have some concerns. First the headline on the back says-


‘A Chinese Menu of Possibilities’


Second on page 11-


‘Cece believed her mother must have felt threatened by the possibility of Cece finding her biological parents. Maybe she didn’t want to share the bond they had with someone else. Or maybe they worried Cece might replace her altogether.’


Ok. Ok. But then...


‘Cece’s father, on the other hand, had always been more sympathetic, and he actually had been able to convince her mother to open up once about the adoption. When Cece was twelve, they both sat down with her and stated plainly that they didn’t know anything about her birth parents, but they’d tell her everything they knew. They described the orphanage, told her what her name used to be before her adoption- Bei Ma Hua- and they showed her some photos, including the one Cece now kept with her.’


WHA?????? Mom opened up ONCE and they told her these things when she was TWELVE????


Double UGH.


Has anyone else read this book? I will try to do a more thorough review soon before the mega-tsunami hits.


-Diane




Friday, July 24, 2009

Monsters In the Closet




This post was written in reaction to these two posts-
Adoptive Mom Malinda at Adoption Talk- To the Mom I Met Today
First Mom Lorraine at Birth Mother/First Mother- Adoption is Always Painful
......


Refraining from discussing adoption with our adopted children is not an option. Discussing and disclosing information about our children’s birth families is their birthright. There is no way around it. The only way is through it.


I adamantly believe that, as adoptive parents, we are required to go further than meeting our children in the middle, we must go all the way and walk back with our children at their pace.
To withhold adoption information from our kids is to suppress a closet full o f monsters- pain, grief, confusion, anger, shame- it is to stuff our children's closets to the point of explosion.

We adoptive parents can be dismissive.


Go back to bed honey. Monsters aren’t real. There is nothing wrong-just a closet full of pretty clothes. See? It is all in your imagination.


Instead, what we need to do is sit down on our child’s bed and say – Tell me what you see. What do the monsters look like? How do they make you feel? What will happen if the monsters come out of the closet? Show me. Tell me. I will hold your hand and we can look together.


In the adoption community we refer to the triad- First Mother, Adoptive Mother, Adoptee. All of us forming a triangular connection. The problem with this triad analogy is that it contains too many sharp points. Angles that can slice and wound. Linear lines that don’t bend. Lines that are interdependent but only engage at an end.


Plus, there are lines that are missing. What about foster families that raised our children before we came on the scene? What about Nannies in our children’s institutions? After much internal debate about the respective level of care that my children received in foster care and in the SWI- I have come to the conclusion that the care level received is a mute point when it comes to whether or not they should be included in the triad. For better or worse- they were the caretakers of my children- one of whom was called Mama. But a triad is three- and what happens when we need more lines? The triangulation of the triad isn’t working for me.


Speaking of Mama. She raised my youngest for almost 2 years and my oldest for almost 8. I was heavily discouraged from meeting her during our first adoption. I was told it would be too hard. My daughter would get worse. It would cause a setback. What? She was already screaming and flailing and crying non-stop for days. What would worse look like? I was willing to see what worse looked like in order to honor the woman who raised my daughter. And thank the heavens I did- meeting her brought my oldest daughter into my life and I know infinitely more about my daughters’ history that would have otherwise been lost to me.


But, I have heard this same story over and over. Families who adopt who chose to not visit their child’s orphanage, who chose to not meet the foster family that cared for their child because it would just be too darn hard on the child. Actually, a family that we traveled with only met their foster family because we did. I don’t get it. I do know families who later kicked themselves for buying into this theory and are now scrambling to re-connect. In international adoption information is pretty stinkin’ tough to gather from the other side of the world.


So, in honor of Mama- I am throwing out the triad and creating an adoption circle. Because, as disconnected as my children might feel sometimes- there has never been a disconnect. There has always been a circle. A circle of women and men who surrounded them and cared for them. Always. We don’t need to know their names to lock them in our circular embrace. We don’t need to propel them to sainthood or deem them villains. We all come to the circle with our own flaws. But, the power of the circle is that has no seams to tear apart.


We must all sit on our children’s beds, locked in our adoption circle, and take a good hard look at those monsters in the closet. It might be scary but we will have each other to hold on to tight.


What do you see?


-Diane

Monday, July 20, 2009

Approved For Adoption

I found a link to this on one of my listserves and HAD to share! The trailer is just amazing, breathtaking really, and I am hoping hard that the film will be released in the U.S..

"The project follows Jung as he goes back to Seoul for the first time since he was orphaned as a child, with the animated segments of the film used to depict his memories of growing up in Belgium with his adopted parents. " Full Article - HERE

-Diane