An-Ya

Going Invisible but Find An-Ya on Facebook

2012-01-13T20:10:00.000-08:00

I will be taking the blog invisible while I rehaul it in anticipation on the novel being published. It will be back, but I need some time to reflect on what should be remain here and what should go private.

In the meantime, please find An-Ya on facebook-

An-Ya and Her Diary

Like the page to keep updated. My hope for the facebook page is not for it to be solely some self promotional shtick but a place to discuss all adoption related writing whether it be in print or virtual media.

Lots going on and lots more to discuss!

Please join the facebook conversation or stop by to listen in. Whatever works for you!

My best,
Diane

Our Christmas Card Photo...Happy Holidays!

2011-12-22T22:36:00.000-08:00

I don't know about you, but I am far from finished getting things totally in gear for Christmas. I still have shopping to do...I know. I have no idea where the time went. Hello Mr. Time between Thanksgiving and Christmas...did you shrink without telling the general public in advance?

Somehow we did get out our Christmas cards sent out and this was the photo we chose. I wanted to share it with those of you who might not be on our Christmas card list but have been here, via this blog, to support our family.

I am going to be one of those dazed over last minute shoppers. Oh my.

Please don't mention anything about also needing wrapping paper. Or ribbon.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Everything to you,

Diane

I finished writing the book. Next step?

2011-12-15T23:04:00.000-08:00

Painting by James Jean

Last night I finished writing my novel An-Ya.

It has been a long writing journey.

Since I began the book... much has happened in between thepages of my life.

There have been long periods that I have been utterlydiverted from completing my writing goals.

Death around me has been my biggest obstacle. In the end itbecame my greatest motivator.

I love the book because I love the characters and I am inlove with how the characters came to be.

Does that mean that it is a good book? No. I have no idea ifit is a good book.

I have no idea if the book will mean anything to anyonebeyond me and my family. And that is ok.

I just know that I finished. I have written 311 double spaced pages thathave a beginning, middle and an end.

Finishing meant saying goodbye again. Goodbye to anotherchapter of my life.

It also means I get to say Hello to a brand new chapter thatwill take me somewhere I have yet to discover. For now that means the editing/publishingchapter that feels quite daunting. As a short story writer the novel writingworld is virtually unknown to me.

I find the littlest details intimidating- Like writing asummary for the novel. Submitting shortstories does not require a summary. Howdo I shrink 311 pages into a few paragraphs? I studied fiction writing for years and thereis still so much to learn.

I may have been gone from here for several months but I amstill next door in my heart.

This blog has provided amazing gifts to my life and the lifeof my children. I really don’t know what I will do with it once I reach the publishingstages of my novel.

I will let you know when I take the next step...which mightmean a new blog place to call home.

Happy Holidays to you and yours. I can’t thank you enoughfor the times that you were here for me and my family. Even if you have justread along and thought about us- Thank you.

-Diane

YD turns 8- A Photo Glimpse (part 1)

2011-07-22T22:17:00.000-07:00

These are all out of a point and shoot camera but I hope you can still feel the joy of the day...for all!

-Diane

Helllooo out there?

2011-06-21T21:38:00.000-07:00

I missed the month of May...or should I say I survived the month of May? Is it June now? Really?

I am here. I am ok (ish).

I want to get you up to speed but you know how it is when-

You haven’t spoken with a friend for awhile and you are trying to give the abridged version of your life?

Here we go...

May. Well, it felt like minutes after my mother-in-law passed that we were facing ‘Mother’s Day’. That holiday can already be quite complex with my children who have very real mothers that are missing in their lives. Add in a husband who experienced his first Mother’s Day without his mom. Then blend in me whose lost father’s birthday fell on the same day as Mother’s Day. (sigh.)

May. Throw in grueling rehearsals for 4 ballet performances. Throw in a ballet studio that taxed my girls emotionally to the point of no return. (That is a story and a half in itself.) The studio lost their top 5 dancers within months due to incredible emotional stress put on the kids...in the end...OD being one of them (and subsequently YD left as well). As you can see above in photos...we made it through the shows but it was by a thread. Nevertheless, the girls were so lovely and performed with such professionalism. (I must add that YD decided to ‘touch up’ her make-up backstage hence the performance ‘look’ she created!)

May. School projects and end of the school year work. OD had her Wax Museum event and she chose to portray a Tang Dynasty poet. Thank you so much to all of you who made suggestions and helped guide us with that assignment.

June. The end of the school year and the difficult transition for the girls from a very structured life (school, ballet, home, repeat) to a completely unstructured life. Hard all around.

June. My mother-in-law’s birthday and Father’s Day. (Mama Mia.) Again...repeat emotions above experienced in May.

Hence the ‘me’ being ok (ish).

The waters ahead are uncharted...I feel like I am sailing the open seas and I am a captain without a chart...

How are You?

-Diane

She's gone.

2011-04-30T21:23:00.000-07:00

painting by the Evans Brothers

My mother in law has made the journey from here to There.

I found out via a text message from my husband sent from the hospital-

She’s gone. Peace.

--

I must say, no matter how scheduled a death is the reality of it all is still quite shocking.

There is a peace found in knowing that she is no longer suffering. There is also peace in knowing that she was able to participate in the decision.

I know many of you intimately understand the walk that we are walking.

Thank you to all who have held us in your thoughts and to those that have offered your support and prayers.

The girls are doing as well as can be expected. Right now we are taking things one minute to the next.

-Diane

Yesterday & Tomorrow.

2011-04-25T21:10:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we celebrated Easter Sunday. The Easter Bunny came and brought baskets to the kids. He also left them a little letter telling them that other treasure filled eggs were hidden throughout the house. Outside there was rain but inside there were smiles and giggles. Somehow the Easter Bunny brought laughter...during what is right now a very difficult time.

Because Tomorrow is coming.

Tomorrow my husband will board a plane and head to his hometown. He is flying to be by the side of his mama as they will be releasing her from life support....and sending her from this world into the next.

My husband’s mama never recovered from heart surgery. Actually, her heart recovered beautifully. It was the infection that snuck in and attacked her lungs that went tragically wrong.

She has been on and off a ventilator these last months and has now stated that she is ready to stop the fight. At this point she is completely reliant on the ventilator and all attempts at weaning the oxygen have failed. The doctors believe that she will not last beyond an hour after the vent is turned off.

One of the most grueling decisions, I have ever made, was deciding if I, and the children, should be by my husband’s side as he said his final goodbyes. We didn’t have to be in the room but just around the corner to embrace him. We held a family meeting and, right quick, it became apparent that the children were not emotionally able to go. At all.

But...I want to be there. But...I must be here for my children.

Life doesn’t always package itself neatly and with a pretty ribbon. This is one of those times that life is strewn about and I am trying to pull it all together. I can’t say that I am doing the greatest job. Honestly, I am scared. I am scared for my husband losing his beloved mama. I am scared for me, as I will watch him walk the grieving walk that I just took my first steps on a little over a year ago. There is this raw spot, after the loss of my father, which feels like it is smothered in sandpaper. I am scared for the children as they witness another parent grieving and as they will grieve the loss of another amazing grandparent. All of this on top of so many early losses.

Since I will not be there to say my goodbyes, my husband has asked that I write a letter to his mom. He will read it to her for me.

I have planned after death. I have written to someone after death has come. I have never planned for someone’s death before its arrival. And, I have never written to someone knowing death was imminent.

My words. My husband’s voice whispering them into his mama’s ear.

What in the world are the right words?

I don’t know. I truly don’t. But I will look to the sky and hope that the right words fall into my heart and onto the page. Somehow, Someway.

-Diane

My Guest Post @ Seoul Searching Mama

2011-04-18T14:43:00.000-07:00

I am honored to share that my guest post is up on Seoul Searching Mama!

My girls contributed their wisdom to the piece and I included some of their thoughts and advice to adoptive parents.

You can read it all here-

An Adoptive Mom & Her Daughters

Thank you to Seoul Searching Mama for asking me to join her in her virtual space. It was a pleasure!

-Diane

When Parenting Gets Tricky

2011-04-12T18:44:00.000-07:00

painting by Zhou Fan

When OD was in fifth grade, at the end of the school year, she took a trip to visit the ‘Middle School’. It was a big deal to be given this new glimpse into her schooling future. Do you remember your leap into the big deal of ‘Middle School’? I do and I remember being equally mystified and terrified. For goodness sake, how in the world was I going to master those intimidating lockers and their crazy dial combinations?

As part of the big field trip to the Middle School, the 5th graders were treated to an interactive performance, put on by the 6th graders, called the ‘Living Wax Museum’.

--

‘The Living Wax Museum’....how do I explain this?

Ok. The 6th graders study multiple countries (and their history) throughout the school year. During the ‘Living Wax Museum’ event the 6th grade students chose a historical figure that represents their current country of study.

During the 5th grade field trip to the Middle School- the 6th grade students are placed throughout the school and enact their chosen historical figure from their country of study. The 5th grade students ask the 6th grade students to explain their wax figure character and the ‘wax figures’ are prepared with multiple historical facts and anecdotes regarding the character they represented. In addition, the 6th graders are supposed to be dressed to reflect the historical figure that they represent.

(Are you following?)

(Please continue reading even if you are totally lost!)

So, now OD is a 6th grader and now OD needs to participate in the ‘Living Wax Museum’ event. She needs to choose a historical figure to represent (which can be a real historical figure or a mystical/religious figure of cultural importance.)

And her country of study, you ask?

China.

--

OD asked me for help in researching her options.

Perfect. I already had an idea in mind.

What about the Buddhist Goddess Guanyin who was worshipped throughout China?

She is the goddess of mercy and compassion. She is the goddess who listens to all prayers. She is the goddess who OD used to pretend play, while she was living in China, by acting out the Guanyin One Thousand Arm dance with friends.

OD embraced the idea and we watched videos about Guanyin and read up about the goddess’s reverence amongst the Buddhist Chinese. Good. Good. Right?

--

OD went to school enthusiastic about the character that she would enact... and came home deflated.

Her teacher informed her that anything related to Buddhism was prohibited because Buddhism originated in India and not China. Therefore- idea nixed. (Apparently- not important that Buddhism came to China via the Silk Route around 206 BC-220 AD and widely influenced Chinese civilization.)

At this point I asked OD if she wanted me to contest this issue with her teacher (also considering that Guanyin had a mountain in China named for her that was believed to be her home on earth).

No, no, OD said. I just want to move on and pick someone else.

--

Then OD asked me to research famous women artists in China. She wanted to portray a famous female Chinese painter.

Sounds easy enough?

Unless we are talking about the history of art in China as well as contemporary Chinese art...which belongs to men.

From the NYTIMES- Contemporary art in China is a man’s world. While the art market, all but nonexistent in 1989, has become a powerhouse industry and produced a pantheon of multimillionaire artist-celebrities, there are no women in that pantheon.

--

The more I researched the more concerned I became about finding someone interesting for OD to portray...or finding a female Chinese artist at all. I read numerous accounts of the government scrutiny of contemporary female artists in China...which shed light on the lack of historical female artists before them. (See above NYTIMES article)

I read about the artist wife, of the revered designer of China’s 2008 Olympic stadium, and her plea to be told the whereabouts of her husband who was recently arrested for speaking out about China’s lack of free speech. Of course this all went down mere days ago.

--

And this is where it gets tricky. The more I dug the deeper I was dug in. Somehow all of this needed to be presented to OD in some kind of age appropriate socio-political context. I was going to need to explain why I couldn’t find the Chinese equivalent of a Mary Cassatt or a Georgia O’Keefe.

--

I sat down and talked to OD about the historical role of women in China. We talked about freedom of speech, or lack thereof. We talked about how that the lack of famous females painters in China did not reflect on the talent of women in China but merely their ability to achieve success under their government. We discussed the restrictions of the Chinese government and events like the Tiananmen Square protests. Along the rambling way we discussed the recent disappearance of the artist/designer of the Beijing Olympic Stadium because I knew she would be familiar with the iconic architecture.

She said to me-

He disappeared just days ago? Really? This just happened in China days ago?

I said- Yes. He spoke out about freedom of speech issues in China.

She said- How do you know this?

I said- It is in the news all over the world.

--

OD’s response was –

Maybe I should just portray a servant in the Forbidden City.

--

Talking about our children’s birth country is important and at different developmental stages I find myself teaching my children things that sometimes aren’t so pleasant. OD is ready to talk about socio-political issues and this was a good opportunity to discuss them more at length regarding China.

It is also important that my children understand their adopted Country’s history and the historical role Americans have played in the oppression of its own people. A few months ago I helped OD put together a presentation on the Transatlantic Slave Trade. It was emotionally taxing for her but I was proud of the work that she put into it. In the end, I think she was proud too.

--

And now my goal is just to make this ‘Living Wax Museum’ experience...fun. Because that is what it should be and that is what OD deserves. I want her to be excited. I want her to look forward to it.

So how to move forward from here...and quick?

-Diane

Upcoming- Guest Blogging!

2011-04-09T21:04:00.000-07:00

painting- Conversations, Artist Unknown

It is always such an honor to be asked to guest blog for a fellow member of the adoption constellation. It means a lot to me to be asked to join a conversation outside of my little virtual space. This time I will be a guest over at Seoul Searching Mama. This is how Seoul Searching Mama describes her blog and herself-

Seoul Searching Mama was created as I began a search for my Korean birth family in June of 2010. Searching for these individuals was never an interest of mine, as I have always been content and thankful for my adoptive family.

It wasn't until I gave birth to my own daughter that it became an important part of our history that I would like to share with my posterity.

Although I am sharing very personal thoughts and life events, Seoul Searching Mama is not a personal blog. It is a public venue for any and all that are interested in my story. Not only has this blog been created to track my search, but it is also a place to share news and information to those interested and part of the adoption community.

Seoul Searching Mama is now walking her first steps into reunion with her Korean family. Please read the beautiful and stirring letter exchange that she recently had with one of her Korean Sisters-

My dear baby sister, Hyo-Eun…

My name is Eun-Jeong, your 4th older sister (unni). I am right above you in line. We all truly appreciate your letter and pictures.

You and your baby… we really want to see you both. My baby niece is so pretty and adorable. If you were near by, I could just hug and spoil her.

March in Korea is Spring time, and we are experiencing final phase of winter. However we can sense that forsythias and cherry blossom trees are ready to bud any time now. I hope that it will get warmer soon… ^^

Now please let me quench some of your thirst to learn more about the family. Shall I start by introducing them one by one?

You can find the whole moving post here – {Hope} in All Things
--
Now I need to decide what I should write about. Seoul Searching Mama gave me a wonderful list of topics to choose from. If only my indecisive self could pick one and run with it!

Like dear old Pooh Bear, time to think, think, think. (Although Pooh Bear ascribes a profoundness that might be well beyond my reach.)

Is there anything you would like to see me tackle, with words, either here or as a guest blogger?

-Diane

Party Time! OD turns 12!

2011-04-03T21:52:00.000-07:00

Time for a party!

OD turned 12!

(Apparently, her little sister thought that a Sleeping Beauty Halloween costume was appropriate party attire. Worked for me.)

OD asked for a special candle on her cake to represent her first family. (This has been a tradition for her in the past.) It is the tall candle that you see in the picture.

The cake she chose was triple chocolate mousse cake. (Triple yum!)

After she blew out the candles she said an unexpected prayer thanking all three sets of her parents for the role they have played in her life. It was simply lovely.

Birthdays around here are not always emotionally straightforward. That is totally ok and understandable. But, this year OD seemed so relaxed and calm and embracing of the celebration.

I am beyond happy for OD. I am beyond proud of this beautiful girl who has accomplished more than I know how to wrap my brain and heart around. The depth and understanding she carries inside are humbling to witness.

How does an almost 8 year old fly to the other side of the world, with virtual strangers, with only a backpack full of the familiar, and somehow make sense of a new normal?

Has it been a bumpy ride? Absolutely. How could I expect any less?

Is this child insanely inspiring? Absolutely. How could I expect any more?

Happy Birthday to dear little OD who is growing up so fast right before my wide eyes.

-Diane

I Have Asian Rabies

2011-03-31T21:13:00.000-07:00

Painting by Kwon Kyung Yup
--

Yesterday my 11 year old walked in the door, home from school, and said-

Mommy, I saw the meanest thing ever happen that I have ever seen before.

And I said-

Ok. I am listening.

--

Let’s set the stage.

My oldest daughter entered the world of middle school this year. Her school contains grades 6, 7 & 8. What is nice about the middle school transition is that the school itself is designed to keep each grade fairly compartmentalized. So, my 6th grade girl rarely sees the older kids. The maturity levels experienced in this age range is huge. Separation is a good thing. The peer pressure within her own grade is already far more than enough without the influence of teens who are about to tackle high school.

The exception to the grade separation is when the kids mingle to ride the bus to school and when they gather to board the bus to ride home from school.

‘I saw the meanest thing ever happen that I have ever seen before’ happened when the kids were gathered, at the end of the day, waiting to board their buses.

--

So, I listened. And my daughter said-

There was this Hispanic girl. I think she is in 7th grade? And there was this Asian girl. I think she is in 7th grade too? And the Hispanic girl went up to the Asian girl and she poked at her and then she said...

Oh no! Now I have Asian germs! Ewww!

And then she did it again. Poked her. And said she had Asian germs. And then she said...

Ha! Ha! I am just kidding!

And then the Hispanic girl went up to her again and rubbed her hand on the Asian girl and said...

Oh My God! Now I have Asian rabies! Oh no!

And it happened over and over. And the Asian girl just stood there with her head down and totally still. And nobody did anything. People looked uncomfortable and moved away from the Hispanic girl but nobody said anything.

--

My daughter didn’t say anything either. She just waited and watched and undoubtedly wondered if she would be targeted next.

--

My daughter and I had a long conversation afterwards, followed by a lot of role playing, followed by many tears shed by my daughter... who so rarely lets her guard down enough to let the tears flow.

--

Yes, we role played. Yes, we examined the possibility that she might have been next...that she might be next...that someday, probably, she would be next.

--

It was a good/terrible reminder that discussions around race and racism need to remain fluid. There is no- Whew, glad we had that race/racism conversation and now my child is equipped to deal with whatever racist behavior flies her way.

If you are raising transracially adopted children, I urge you to begin these discussions with your children early. Know that, even if you do begin the conversation early, your child may still be paralyzed by witnessing or being subjected to racist comments or acts. But, by having opened the dialogue early, it will make it more likely that your child will come to you to process through it.

Additionally, I would encourage all parents, regardless of the racial makeup of their family, to enter the dialogue. For the sake of the children...all of them.

-Diane

--

RESOURCES

A Class Divided PBS- This site provides extensive viewing and discussion of Jane Elliot’s ‘Brown Eyed, Blue Eyed’ experiment. This site also offers a Teacher’s Guide and some tips on facilitating discussions on racism, prejudice, and discrimination. It is recommended for ages 9 and up. I walked through this program with my oldest daughter and it was an incredible learning experience...for both of us.

Civilrights.org- Talking to Our Children about Racism and Diversity

EMKpress.com- Preparing Our Children for Racism

DiveristyCouncil.org- Diversity Activities for Elementary School

FusionProgram.org- Talking to Young Children about Racism (an age by age guide)

It Takes a Triad & Thank You Transracialeyes

2011-03-26T18:18:00.000-07:00

painting by Gregg Chadwick

They say it takes a village to raise a child...and for an adoptive parent...

It takes a triad.

( Adoption Triad: A term used to describe the three-sided relationship that exists in an adoption between birth parents, adoptive parents and the adoptee, each of which is interrelated and inter-dependent on the others.)

I am not talking about the sit in your own ‘triangle corner’ kind of triad but the people that gravitate away from the angular pokes and mingle in the middle.

Adult Adoptee Amanda @ The Desclassified Adoptee wonders, in her post titled “Where is All the Angry, Well Everyone Else?”-

Big, huge blogs, about adoption, have not one Adult Adoptee blog to be found on the blog roll. Not everyone will enjoy everyone else's writing, I understand that. But there is not one adoptee blog one can find to link to? Not one book written by an adoptee to reference? Not one?

Jenna, a first Mom @ The Chronicles of Munchkin Land wrote in her post “My Thoughts on Adoptive Families’ Top Blogger Picks”-

If you’re only reading blogs by your side of the triad, you’re doing it wrong. End of story. I have learned so much from other birth parents (especially those that came before me in the closed era), adoptive parents and adoptees. I say that a lot, I know, but I fear I have to keep saying it because it’s obvious that people aren’t listening. Ahem, Adoptive Families.

What I love about blogs is the opportunities they present for interaction and connectivity.

What I love about my little blog is that those who follow along are amazing artists, writers and members of all sides of the triad. The breadth of voices that have joined me here has not only benefited me as a parent but has also impacted my children. I deeply appreciate those that have either guest wrote here or left their advice and wisdom via a comment.

As an adoptive parent to two transracially/transculturally adopted children- there are times when I am not the best equipped to address their trials and concerns. Sometimes I need to see things through another lens, from another triad angle, and find myself reaching out to you...and you never fail to offer me your invaluable perspective.

Recently, my oldest daughter shared some concerns and I didn’t feel like my response and advice was adequately quelling her dilemma. We walked through the options given by the ‘W.I.S.E. Up!’powerbook and she still wasn’t quite satisfied. So I decided to ask the writers at transracialeyes.com if they would be willing to tackle her concerns.

And they said yes.

The writers at transracialeyes.com are adult adoptees. Here is the mission of their website-

This site is provided as a resource for those exploring the ideas of transracial and/or international adoption. Readers can submit a question for consideration and adoptees of color will provide insightful comments. We've decided to not make it a discussion board because we donate our time and have lives to lead, but will be happy to share our perspectives.

You can see my daughter’s submission to the site and read the intelligent,insightful and compassionate responses she has received so far-

How do you handle questions from people who try to tell you how you must ‘feel’ about being left by your parents?

-
I want to thank all of the triad voices that continue to express their wisdom, pain, anger, confusion, frustration and joy through their writing. I continue to hope that more and more adoptive parents will come to realize how enriched their lives, and their children’s lives, will be by listening and interacting beyond their cramped triad corner.

Because transracialeyes.com is not a discussion site...I will thank them here for reaching out to my daughter.

It does indeed – take a triad.

-Diane

This is How We Are

2011-03-20T17:54:00.000-07:00

Japanese Painting circa 1900 artist unknown

First, we are ok. I want to thank you if you read my last post and held us in your thoughts and prayers. Thank you so much.

My mother in law, by some miracle, is still with us and still fighting. She has progressed far enough to be removed from the ventilator and underwent the procedure to receive a tracheal tube. So far, so good. It is progress and progress is good.

My husband is home. Good. Good.

(...Except for the flu that seems to have flown home with him and we all ingested. Not so good.)

As for the kids- they are hanging in there. It has been a lot to take in with grandma so ill, earthquake and subsequent tsunami warning and things so generally being out of their control. In the midst of it all, I forgot one important thing- If they don’t hear it from me they will hear it from other kids or someone at school.

There was no way around Japan’s earthquake and tsunami warning. We didn’t know what to expect and we needed to be ready to go if necessary. School was cancelled and the kids needed an explanation of why we were holed up upstairs, fully dressed with sneakers, and ready to evacuate if needed.

But, I didn’t ‘expose’ them to the radiation exposure fear response that swept the West Coast of the US in the aftermath of Japan’s tragedy. Which, in retrospect, was a big mistake, at least as far as my oldest daughter is concerned. Because in 6th grade there is a lot of talking going on and kids hear their parents concerns and bring them to school for discussion. And teachers will decide to talk about things that you don’t get a neon notice about ahead of time.

Yesterday I noticed that my big girl was acting crazy dysregulated. All kinds of red flags were flying. I thought it was maybe an unraveling of all that she has gone through in these past weeks. Which, of course, would be totally understandable (and maybe expected) for a child who has lived a life full of uncontrollable life changes. Certainly the enormous amount of recent ‘uncontrollables’ was a lot for any child to swallow. But, when I got to the bottom of it (after running many laps around it) she said-

I am really worried about those nuclear reactors in Japan. Will our air become poisoned? Do we have the medicine that we should take so we don’t get sick? (FYI- we don’t.)

Sigh.

When a child (or an adult for that matter) hears (unbeknownst to you) that there is something huge that they need not worry about, most definitely no need to worry about ‘right now’, and is told so by their peers, their teacher, the news and the President of the United States...Don’t Worry...

Worry they will.

So now what? How do I help my child ‘not worry’ when our country’s President wasn’t able to diminish my child’s fears?

We needed a plan. A plan on how we would respond if the ‘don’t worry’ mantra changed to ‘ok folks now it is time worry.’ (Because I could say ‘don’t worry’ until the cows came home and the fear in my child would have remained solidly intact.)

Because plans help us feel a little more in control. AKA, we have this covered. If you tell us A then we are prepared to do B.

We went to work. We brainstormed. We went shopping. We gathered supplies. (Amazing the emotional impact of having a lot of canned goods and bottled water on hand.)

Friends and family back East were notified that we might need them, if indeed the need arose, to hunt down and overnight us some obscure medication to block radiation to the thyroid. All agreed to participate in our plan (some of them helped me to formulate ‘the plan’ from its beginning.)

All of it utterly completely unnecessary? Probably. Hopefully. Most likely so.

It is all a good reminder of the realness of perceived danger vs. real danger vs. the blurriness of both. All of the above needed to be addressed recently in my children on so many levels...

I am there for you. I will have you covered in the worst of times and the best of times. Maybe I can’t always fix it but we are in this together.

Now I am off to battle the flu with some disinfecting wipes and some miso soup.

-Diane

My Thoughts and Prayers Tonight...

2011-03-11T21:09:00.000-08:00

Painting- Cherry Blossoms by Mr. Yang

My Thoughts and Prayers Tonight...

Praying for the people of Japan.

Praying for my girls... they lived through their first real tsunami warning today. We are fine but they are still afraid.

Praying for my mother in law...she is in ICU and on a ventilator. She is loved by everyone who has been graced by her smile. Truly.

Praying for my husband... who has flown a state away to be by the side of his mama. May he stay present and prepared to have no regrets as excruciating decisions are made in the next few days. We miss him. We especially missed his calm presence today.

Praying for my family... as we face what might become another tragic turn in our lives.

Praying...that we are not facing another tragic turn in our lives. Give us hope.

Praying for my own mama...who is navigating a battery of medical testing and unknowns and still grieving the loss of her crazy partner in crime (aka my Dad).

And if you are in need of prayer...sending you a warm word embrace in hopes that it offers some small comfort.

-Diane

The Chinese Teacher & His Poem

2011-03-05T18:41:00.000-08:00

painting by Marcia Baldwin

4 years ago, I traveled to China to adopt my oldest daughter. Since my daughter was almost 8, I requested a visit to her primary school. That visit was granted. The girls’ foster parents accompanied us to the school.

The school itself was beige-gray concrete and multilayered.

The school children were dressed in a gym suit type uniform and they were very, very loud. And very, very excited to meet us.

It was chaotic and overwhelming as the children swarmed around us. Some of them were bold enough to reach out and touch us and some were shy and backed away.

We were hustled up a flight of concrete stairs and corralled into a classroom. As some point, my daughter handed out the treats we brought for her classmates. At another point, I was asked to lead the class in singing the ABC song. Everyone sang along heartily until the end when it was my lone voice left singing- And now I know my abc’s...next time won’t you sing with me! There were giggles and applause.

And here is where I met my daughter’s teacher- Mr.Qinxue

Mr. Qinxue was able speak with me in conversational English. He was my daughter’s teacher during her three years in primary school. He was close with my daughter as well as her foster parents. We exchanged email contact.

--

Over the last four years I have maintained email contact with Mr. Qinxue. He will send lovely little letters (usually half in English and half in Chinese) as well as some short little videos of his school children saying hello to us.

--

Today I was searching through my computer documents, looking for something or another, and I ran across an email, that I saved to a document, that contained the words of Mr. Qinxue. After I receive an email from the foster parents or Mr. Qinxue I will translate it and save it as written. Then I will add an English translation procured from an online translator.

--

The letter I stumbled upon today was dated 02/10/2010. It was addressed to me. As usual it was half in Chinese and half English. This is the letter translated fully into English (with some things obviously being lost in translation)...

Diane,

The month 13th is our China lunar New Year's Eve, on February 14 the zero hour gets up welcomes middle Chinese people one year the most grand holiday - - - - Spring Festival). Starts from this day to mean that the new year of the Tiger started. I paid new year's call to your whole family! The auspicious tiger treads the auspicious cloud, new year the luck is near, wishes your whole family Happy Spring Festival, the whole family is happy. I also had many words to want to say with you, but knew mentions from where, I wanted to use this kind of China's ancient poetry to voice my this feelings: “in Luoyang city sees the autumn wind, wants to make letter Italy heavily ten thousand. Duplicate feared says in a hurry endlessly, the pedestrian near sent seal.” 　　

I and very have recently little related to foster family, because each time chats with them they to be very always sad, to no longer break them this already the very tranquil mood.

I hope you could understand them.

This is a Chinese letter.

Mr. Qinxue

--

No, I didn’t understand. I mean, I understood most of the letter but I was utterly baffled by the poem he referenced. For some unknown reason, when I received the letter, I never tried to figure out the meaning of the strange poem or what sentiment Mr. Qinxue was trying to express?

Today I became somewhat obsessed with discovering what exactly he was trying to share. Today it felt very important to understand. Why today and not last year? I really don’t know. But, I do know that today I needed to figure it out.

And I did. Or, I think I did. Or, my heart feels like I now know.

--

In Mr. Quinxue’s email the poem he refers to is written in Chinese Character. I was able to plug the poem into a Chinese search engine and then translate the results into an English online translator. It took several hit and misses before I found online the following (the poem and subsequent meaning are still not a completely accurate but are much closer than the translation I found in 2010)-

"Autumn Thoughts"

(Zhang Ji,Tang Dynasty)

“Luoyang city, see the autumn wind, like the book writer, meaning thousand.

Fear not the complex, said hurriedly, people to grant and seal show.”

meaning-

The poem to the effect that: autumn blows, the guest in Luoyang City in the poet wanted to write a letter to the loved ones back at home, Homesickness express their feelings, but to say too much, I did not know where to start . Written the letter after he worried about a letter written in haste cannot fully express their meaning, when the messenger to start when they open a sealed letter of view.

"Luoyang city, see the autumn, like the book writer, meaning thousand." The first sentence said the fall came to Luoyang city, as the autumn wind, and flat narrative, does not seem to do rendering. The second sentence of the "For Writers Book", it suddenly makes us feel the plain implication of autumn wandering in the mood. Autumn wind is invisible, audible, palpable, sensible, but not visible. But as spring green the earth can bring boundless spring, as contained in the solitude of the autumn chill of the air, but also make autumn leaves, Fallen flowers everywhere, to the nature and the human capacity to bring an autumn state. So, the poet is probably seen this autumn to bring the sad shake off the scene. A guest afar from home, to see this, how can we not evoke the loneliness of a foreign land restrain feeling lonely and down, causing his hometown, relatives of the long and miss it?”

--

In this moment, Spring is coming...yet, I feel surrounded by Autumn. I can feel the leaves falling all around me.

-Diane

The Fluffy White Stuff

2011-02-26T20:29:00.000-08:00

This is only the second time that the girls have experienced a snow day from school! (We have had ice days which aren't nearly as thrilling.)

Oh the joy and delight!

-Diane

Memories (Part 2)

2011-02-17T11:34:00.000-08:00

Impressions of the Lunar New Year by Luping Zeng

Somewhere in China...

Imagine an old village that looks like many other old villages. One needs only to turn a hidden corner in modern China to enter into the distant past that creates the future.

There is an alley of cracked concrete. Flanking the alley are two and three story apartments that are layered together sideways and up and down. Apartment windows display laundry that waits for a breeze. A color worn tarp is strung in the alley in between fruit trees. Under the tarp is a table or tables. There, in the shade, older people sit and eat and play friendly (or fierce?) tile games. Conversations flow fast and gestures are highly animated. (And probably latent with gossip ...but that is pure speculation).

Children run in a current under the elders’ chatter. The children seem oblivious to the word storms that are exchanged above their heads.

There are old bikes propped. And jump ropes, coiled on the ground, waiting like docile woven snakes. And over there is a child squatting, with her finger extended to the ground, inviting a spider to board her pinky and explore.

Along the apartments, every here and there, a shadowed gap exposes a stair well. Follow a particular set of gray stairs and you will find a door that is the entry to the apartment in which my daughters lived the first years of their lives.

Open the door. Go ahead.

You see a main living area containing a wooden bench, a platform wooden bed and a partition wall. Behind the partition is a narrow space containing a set of bunk beds. Other rooms, not immediately visible, are a kitchen workspace attached to a bathroom as well as an additional small sleeping space.

My youngest daughter lived here for a little over a year and was adopted a few months before her third Chinese New Year. She does not remember celebrating Chinese New Year in China.

My oldest daughter celebrated 7 Lunar New Years in her birth country.

She remembers.

---

Where: a small village in the middle of a big city in Southern China

When: 1999-2007

What: Chinese New Year in China

Who: My oldest daughter and her memories of celebrating China’s biggest holiday

---

In the week preceding the New Year’s celebration, a live chicken would be purchased at the market by my daughter’s foster father. It would be kept in a small cage in their apartment’s bathroom. It was my daughter’s job to feed it. The chicken would soon be the center piece of the Lunar feast.

(Once, at some childhood point or another, she was bitten by a chicken, and forever there after my daughter harbored no affection for living poultry.)

Decorations. Chinese New Year scrolls would be hung in the home. There was one that was hung year after year and featured Chinese children in traditional dress. There would also be new scrolls purchased each year.

She has no memory of anything of note happening on Lunar New Year’s Eve.

New Year’s Day, as soon as her eyes were open, she would be put to work. There was much to be done and no time wasted.

Cleaning. She didn’t know the superstitions behind why things needed to be clean. She just thought that they were making things pretty for the big day. (The belief is that the bad luck of last year will be swept away. I’ve read that this is done preceding the New Year’s Day but I am telling the story as she told it to me.)

Out came the brooms. No vacuums. Sweep. Mop. Repeat.

Clothes would be taken down and neatly folded.

But, the exception to tidying was cleaning under the platform bed. (Apparently this small area of the home was too big of a cleaning task to tackle.)

New clothes were worn. Nothing fancy. No Qipao or Chinese silks with toggle buttons. Just a new set of practical everyday clothes.

Cooking. The chicken would be slaughtered and a plethora of other Chinese dishes would be prepared.

Two kinds of noodle soup. Stir fried vegetables. Bowls of oranges. Lots of rice.

Family would arrive. The foster parent’s grown children and their grandchildren.

Relatives would hand my daughter Red Envelopes. (She has no idea what she did with the Yuan that was slipped inside.)

Before the feasting commenced there would be a ceremony to honor the ancestors.

Two delicately painted bowls would be filled with rice and a set of chopsticks. The bowls would be placed on the floor of the apartment. Incense would be burned and the cooked chicken (in its entirety) would be placed in front of the rice bowls.

There was also a wok placed beside the rice bowls and chicken. Inside the wok they would burn paper money printed with pictures of demons and deities. They would also burn paper shoes and other items perceived needed by their ancestors to carry them through the New Year. Some words were spoken during this offering but my daughter doesn’t remember their meaning.

(She just remembers the apartment would fill with smoke.)

Then, it was time to eat.

A round table, reserved for special occasions, would be brought out and placed in between the wooden bench and the platform bed. Seated around the table were the adults in the family. Children would circle the feast, clamor up on the bed and down, and pick and grab what food they could.

My daughter was smitten with the cooked flap on the chicken’s head. She said she was scolded for darting around and trying to pick that fleshy chicken part for her own digestion.

Night would come. Late night.

My daughter and her foster parent’s granddaughter would scurry their way down the gray stairs.

In the dark concrete alley -the neighbors would gather. There would be a man in the alley with a fireworks box. He didn’t have anything that launched into the sky. But, he did have special fireworks that would spit and sparkle and light up the ground. In addition, he had cylinder links that produced big wonder filled booms.

It’s true; she never saw a dragon dance or lion dance or a high sky pyrotechnic display. She doesn’t remember making puppets, or masks, or paper fans. However, her soul treasures her own home-spun celebrations of Chinese New Year. She treasures the memories of her second family and food and community and their togetherness.

I wasn’t there with her for almost 8 years. With her in China. But, if I close my eyes, I can clearly see my daughter’s face illuminated by the crackling ground lights- lit in honor of the Lunar New Year.

-Diane

FYI- The group adoption blog ‘Grown In My Heart’ is asking for nominations for your favorite adoption blogs. There are many different and interesting categories to weigh in on... so head over and vote here.

Memories (Part 1)

2011-02-07T17:19:00.000-08:00

Painting- Shared Memories by Lolita Dickenson

Any mother, who has been separated at length from their child, can tell you about how difficult it is to make up for lost time. Or catch up on lost time. Or accept that the lost time happened, and your child’s memories of many years of their life, just don’t include you.

--

I can’t imagine the anguish of a first mother who was coerced, deceived, or forced by poverty or government policy, to relinquish their child and left to wonder what memories their child was making without them.

--

What I do know is what it is like to be an adoptive parent to an older child who was adopted internationally. My first daughter came to me with 2 ½ years that flew by without me by her side. And my oldest daughter who has almost 8 years of memories of a life, culture, people, tears, laughter, fear, joy...that I didn’t witness.

--

My children, as we snuggle together on a cold rainy night, will never look up at me, gaze into my eyes and say-

Mommy? Can you tell me again about the day I was born?

--

After my father died, as I was immersed in the fog called grief, I experienced a fleeting moment of clarity. I remembered that I once, many years ago, had an answering machine and on that answering machine my father, mother and friends left me birthday wishes. The answering machine was long gone but I knew I saved the microcassette that held those beautiful birthday greetings. I have no idea why I saved the cassette but I knew I still had it. Somewhere.

After this moment of clarity, I madly (and I mean madly) searched for the cassette. I finally found it but I didn’t have any way to play it. So I grabbed my car keys and went off in search of a micro-cassette player. (Would there still be such a thing?)

Turns out there are still such a thing and I hungrily bought one without asking the cost.

--

When I first tried to listen to the cassette I couldn’t get it to play at the right speed. I could hear my dad talking to me but he sounded like a high pitched cartoon character in fast forward.

When I finally got the speed to match the voice...

I listened to my dad speak to me, clear and soothing as ever, over and over. I lay on my bed and held the player over me. Play and rewind. Play and rewind. My heart cried and my face smiled as his voice surrounded me. I listened to him sing to me a little verse of the Birthday song and wish me a –

Happy Birthday Baby.

--

When we lose people that we love we lose the ability to converse our shared memories. I can’t phone up my dad anymore and say-

Hey Daddy...do you remember when we did xyz together?

And my dad would answer and I would say-

Oh yeah! O forgot that part. That was so xyz.

Because shared memories trigger other memories....and on and on it goes. Until it doesn’t anymore.

--

This is also the truth of my children who have years of shared memories with nobody here who shares them. They are on their own to remember their life before I entered into it.

Thankfully, by some amazing grace, my girls do have each other, with a shared foster family in China, they will sometimes trigger each other’s shared memories of life before here. But, my oldest is mostly on her own with her past. My youngest daughter lived with her sister in China from the spring of 2004 until the fall of 2005. Other than that brief period, nobody here was there to share the other 7 years of her life.

--

The other night I broke out the microcassette player. Along with the filled cassette, the one I found with my father’s voice speaking to me, I also found a blank cassette. It was unopened.

--

I know that my oldest daughter still holds memories tucked inside about what she did, what she saw, what she felt, and what she ate, during her first years in China. We have spoken about her memories in snippets here and there over the years. But, I had yet to sit down with her and have a lengthy discussion focusing specifically on her memories of Chinese New Year and her foster family’s celebrations. As Chinese New Year was upon us- it seemed a fitting time to ask and listen.

--

Last night, I loaded the microcassette player with that blank cassette. Before bedtime, I gathered with my children on my bed, it was dim; the rain fell cold and soft outside the bedroom windows. But, we were warm and dry and open.

I pressed record on the player and we began to record memories. I started by saying-

Today is February 6, 2011...On February 3, 2011 we celebrated Chinese New Year. This is the year of the Rabbit...my daughters are here to share what they remember about Chinese New Year...and to share about when they lived in China...

And the cassette player spun on the edge of their every word.

-Diane

Missing Pieces & Year of the Rabbit

2011-02-03T10:28:00.000-08:00

I am currently distracted by puzzles that have many pieces that are missing. And to distract me from the distracting puzzles... I have been reading fiction.( Distraction from distraction doesn’t really get me any further with my puzzle solving but it does entertain my distracted state.)

But, the puzzles are deeply important. Most important is finding the missing pieces. They are the history of my daughters’ lives. The missing pieces like...why, when, how, who, where?

Most missed pieces...Who? Why?

My youngest daughter wants the biological history pieces filled in. Now.

My oldest daughter wants to know about the foster family that raised her for almost 8 years and how they are doing. Now.

Last night, we filled in a few pieces for my oldest daughter. Recently her foster family’s email address was rejecting our letters. The computer insisted that their email address was null and void. ‘Permanent fatal errors.’

My youngest daughter shares the same foster family as my oldest daughter but they have taken a back seat to her daily need to know more about her biological connections.

I began to worry when, over the course of a few months, I couldn’t contact the foster family via email. We have been in email contact for over 6 years. The girls’ foster parents are not young. They have entered their seventies. I needed to find a way other than email to connect with them.

So, as fate would have it, we happen to have a friend who was born in the girls’ birth city, who worked in a private run orphanage neighboring my girls’ government run orphanage, who happened to be traveling back to China to visit her family...

And who was very willing to check in on the girls’ foster family during her stay.

And my friend did. She checked in with them during her recent stay in China.

She visited with the foster family in the foster family’s tiny apartment and she held their hands and they exchanged words and all of those words and feelings and emotions shared were revealed by our friend in our living room last night.

And there were gifts.

My friend brought the girls some of the gifts given by their foster family.

They were each given red envelopes with lucky money for the Chinese New Year.

They were each given a pair of house shoes knitted by their foster mother emblazoned with a Rabbit to symbolize the Chinese Year of the Rabbit.

And my oldest daughter (born in the year of the Rabbit) was given red underwear, by her foster mother, with these carried instructions -

“This is her year and she must wear this for the New Year night and New Year Day. This will bring her luck for 12 years.” (The Chinese zodiac cycles through 12 years.)

The foster family also wanted my friend to bring home winter coats they purchased for the girls. Unfortunately, with the new luggage costs, my friend couldn’t bring those items home to us.

(I hate that the foster family continues to think of our children as perpetually cold.)

There was a lot said last night. And I learned that the puzzles that I have been putting together are growing bigger. The bigger the puzzles...the more pieces I realize that are missing.

And as I gather the pieces I am realizing that the puzzles truly are not mine to solve. But, nevertheless, I must continue gathering the pieces.

I must also hold each piece with tenderness... which sounds easier said than done.

Some pieces are tear stained.

Some pieces are faded and fragile.

Some pieces are glossed and seem to stand on their own.

Some pieces radiate warmth and comfort.

And some pieces burn a hole in my hands that sets fire to my veins and sends searing flames to my heart.

(The above sentence sounds highly dramatic. But, it is my truth.)

But, gather I must. For every piece, no matter how scarring, is a piece of my children’s mysterious whole.

Happy Year of the Rabbit to you and yours. May this year be good to you. (Even if you aren’t wearing red underwear.)

-Diane

Chinese New Year- Crafting with Kids

2011-01-26T16:55:00.000-08:00

For instructions on how to create these fun Chinese New Year crafts click on the photos. Enjoy! More on Chinese New Year and our family soon. - Diane

National Geographic Book Giveaway- Seoul

2011-01-09T13:35:00.000-08:00

photograph by Jodi Cobb

Receive a free photography book by Jodi Cobb from National Geographic-

“Reflections of Seoul in Four Seasons” Giveaway

(While supplies last)

You can view Jodi Cobb’s gorgeous photo gallery here-

Jodi Cobb Gallery of Work

--

OD’s first best friend( in the U.S.) was a Korean girl whose family was here on a temporary work visa. It was a beautiful friendship and they were thick as thieves. How they communicated was a bit of a mystery as OD spoke Mandarin/Cantonese and her friend spoke Korean. They seamlessly mastered the language barrier and managed with body language and a few shared words of English. I am hoping we receive this book and it can be a visual tribute to OD’s lovely first best friend. We miss her.

Go order yours!

-Diane

Book Affairs & Resolution

2011-01-06T21:57:00.000-08:00

As of late- I have been busy juggling my many delicious affairs at the library. I choose my muses at will and quite randomly. I stroll through the book aisles and run my fingers along spine after beautiful spine. It is unusual for me to have a pre-conceived destination. I just walk and look and feel my way through.

It smells nose clearing clean with a slight whiff of musty as I peruse the narrow aisles. Sliver books mix with thick books and odd sized books poke out into my walking space.

Every now and then a title or design will stop me and I will pull a book into my arms. Then I will tenderly open it up to the middle, or maybe the end, or sometimes the beginning...and read. If I am intrigued by its words then my brief affair will continue to evolve at home. Sometimes love at first sight is thwarted. Sometimes...love becomes everlasting.

So I search, and I test, and I open myself to the unknown. Willingly and waiting for something more.

It may seem like a harmless affair- an affair with a book. But, that is just not so. Especially for a writer because a book affair can be so seductive that the desire to read takes over the desire to write. Each book entices you to read more and reminds you that there is so much more to learn. Like all affairs it leaves a writer feeling vulnerable. It is a fine line with these book affairs. A stranger’s sentence can swoon and capture your complete devotion. Simultaneously, their awe inspiring words can leave you feeling beyond inadequate in what you are capable of achieving.

From Sound of Paper by Julia Cameron:

What I like about art is the very thing that makes people fear it. It enlarges us. I am a better and more honest woman for having taken to the page today and admitted my locked-away feelings of the years. I am larger and better and softer and kinder and more than open than I was resisting knowing what I knew. It is always this way with art. We say the unsayable and in saying it we name not only ourselves but also the human conditions. By being willing to characterize our lives in art, we begin to have the character necessary to make living itself an art. We rise to the occasion that life offers us.

Which brings me to my New Year’s Resolution-

I hope to finish my book this year.

The passing of my father brought my novel writing to the rhythm of molasses in a cypress swamp.

Now is the time to break the dam. I am one of those crazy lucky writers that have had the full support of all around me. My dad was so proud of my writing. My whole family has always been fully behind me. My friends couldn’t be more supportive. And you, here, have cheered me along the way.

Thank you so much. Your support means that much. I need to get this thing done and I appreciate your encouragement...so much.

Happy New Year. May this be a year to fondly remember for all of us.

My best,

Diane

We Wish You a Merry Christmas!

2010-12-24T21:34:00.000-08:00

Our best Christmas wishes from us to you! Wherever you are...wherever you have been...wherever you want to be...we wish you a very Merry Christmas and a peaceful journey ahead.

-Diane

Merry Christmas Tree

2010-12-22T21:24:00.000-08:00

Our tree is brimming with decorations both old and new. Many of the felt ornaments were made for me by my 90 year old grandmother. When I was a child she would give me a special set each year. I treasured those hand-made ornaments and looked forward to putting them on the tree every Christmas. In my late teens, when I left home, I left behind my ornament collection at my father’s house. They came back into my possession when he passed away last year. The girls have fallen in love with them too. Who doesn’t love the Wizard of Oz or the Seven Dwarfs? There are many more that stir my heart as I watch my children hanging them on our tree. Some of our ornaments I made as a child and some of our ornaments my children have made. I love how the old and new mix together wonderfully on our dear tree. At least it works well for us. Christmas trees are so accommodating that way.

(Does anyone know how Santa feels about fudge? We will be making fudge instead of Christmas cookies.)

YD and I are recovering from wicked stomach flu. As we were huddled in bed together, taking turns emptying our insides out, YD declared – We cannot let this illness rule our lives!

Sometimes....children just know best.

(Tree pictures taken before the star was put on top!)

-Diane

Sometimes I get stuck... right now it's the Christmas card photo

2010-12-15T21:22:00.000-08:00

So, I have the Christmas cards ready for the photo insert. So, I have a gazillion photos to pick from. But, I am stuck. 'They should have been mailed already' you say? Of course so. 'They should have been printed and stuffed and stamped'. I know. I totally know. But, it has been pouring rain forever and I really wanted an outside shot. When I took the girls outside to photograph I had all of 30 seconds before they started getting pelted with rain in the ribs. So, here I am stuck on something so ~~very~~ not important.

I have weird mental blocks. This is what I do to distract myself from the bigger issues that weigh on my heart. I focus on the superficial. Seriously, who cares what in the world photo I chose for my Christmas card? Actually, if I wait a day or two longer it will become a Happy New Year's card. Or maybe I should send them out for Valentine's Day? They are wearing red and it could work. Right?

Right?

-Diane

Adoption: Parenting Gauntlet and Christmas Fail (so far)

2010-12-08T21:18:00.000-08:00

Painting by MC Escher

I am dropping Christmas balls all over the place. Sigh. Just feeling very behind with my Holiday Hoorah. As I type this I can hear Santa cruising through our town on a fire truck. The sirens are echoing through my living room. He passed our house a mere hour ago. I was bracing myself because I thought he might megaphone me saying- I don’t like to pay express shipping fees! Get the kid’s wish lists to me ASAP!

In the meantime...I wanted to share a recent posting on AlmightyDad.com titled –

Adoption: A Parenting Gauntlet written by an adult adoptee (Keith):

Insecurity: I was painfully insecure throughout my childhood. It wasn’t until my first son came that I felt like I had any purpose in life. Before Neil the only other biological marker I had was my twin sister (granted, that’s a pretty huge one) who was adopted with me. Having no, or just one, biological connection can make a person feel pretty alone in the world and, thus, insecure. I think, with both Neil and Alan, I felt what mothers claim to feel upon seeing their newborn kids. It was an instant kinship. Before Neil came, I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. I felt like I could have died and it wouldn’t have mattered much. That’s exactly how important it is to feel needed. While everybody has those feelings, adopted kids frequently have them by magnitudes.

Inferiority: We can feel unworthy. When we’re toddlers we struggle with abandonment. But, when we grow up, abandonment mutates into inferiority. After a while the feeling dies that we’ll be given back to the adoption agency. But, that’s when our more mature minds start on a new, equally pernicious, course. We begin to compare our adopted lives with the lives of our non adopted peers. They look like their parents; they have the same quirks and facial expressions. We start wanting to be like the other kids, to have the things they have. That’s how we start to feel inferior.

Read the whole essay here (and the comments)- Adoption: A Parenting Gauntlet

Happy Holidays to you and yours. Hope you are sipping hot chocolate by twinkling tree lights...and wish me luck that I find a tree and actually put lights on it!

-Diane

Little Song - News!

2010-12-02T15:00:00.000-08:00

Back in August I wrote about Song's Story. You can read that post here - Meet Song

For those of you who have kept him in your thoughts (thank you!)-

I am happy to tell you that a family in the United States has stepped forward to be his family. They are quickly moving through their paperwork and hope to be in China in the spring.

Hope you all are enjoying a wonderful holiday season!

-Diane

Parade & a Prayer by YD

2010-11-26T22:21:00.000-08:00

So, for a 7 year old, there were many notable events as she watched the 2010 Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. To be exact- 18 events made her written account of the historic (every year!) parade. In case you missed it here were the highlights (according to 7 year old YD)...

1. I like Snopy in the prade because he is cute!

2. I like the cow girl who dance because I like they dance!

3. I like the singers too I like the song they singed!

4. I like the marchers because I like they march!

5. I like spongbob because I wachit all the time! (um. Not so much for 2 years!)

6. I like bud the elf! Because I like its dance!

7. I like the dancers!

8. I like semestret too!

9. I like ronles mick donles.

10. I like the flots.

11. I like the people in the moveys!

12. I like micky mouse!

13. I like the ducks!

14. My favrit of all is the Hello Kitty!

15. I like the comefoow pande!

16. I like the finer man! (Oh, really?)

17. I like the people who are playing music! (yes, she spelled that all correctly!)

18. I like the people who are danceing!

19. I am in 2nd grade.

YD also wrote a prayer for Thanksgiving dinner...

Thank you for the place that got us as arrive. I thank you for God and us because I like the Earth and what Earth give us I like this place I hope you injoy. I love children, I love you and I love the Earth! So I like the Earth and I hope we have a good Thanksgiveing. So I love every one in the family for who they are and what they give to us for thanks and joy to so I prays that we be safe so I love! The Earth to I say prayrs to go give thanks and joy too.

...

Amen.

(YD landed on U.S. soil five years ago. It was on Thanksgiving Day that she became an American citizen.)

-Diane

5 Years Ago...

2010-11-15T20:28:00.000-08:00

5 years ago...I was standing in China. I became a mom. Minutes after becoming a mom, I was whisked off to a Chinese hospital to treat my very sick new daughter. A few days later, I met my daughter's foster parents. I also met my daughter's foster sister. I hugged her and spun her around. At the time, I had no earthly idea that I was spinning around a child that would become my second daughter in 2007.

I was heavily discouraged over meeting the foster family. But, I was fierce in my conviction and the parties that be relented. It haunts me to think about - what if I wavered? What if I caved? My family would not be the family that we are today.

-Diane

The House. Death. One Year. Thank You.

2010-10-22T22:18:00.000-07:00

The photograph is of the house that I lived in with my father for 8 years. The house itself was originally an outbuilding to a main house but somewhere along the way the property was divided. At some time or another the building was used as an art studio. Before I lived in the house a dear friend of my grandmother’s resided there. Her name was Mildred.

I have vague memories of Mildred. I liked all of my grandmother’s friends so I am sure I must have like Mildred too. Mildred had polio (I believe?) and, in the midst of my parents’ divorce, Mildred passed away. She was sans kin and the house was left to my grandmother who subsequently gave it to my father and me to live in. I was thirteen years old.

What I do vividly remember about Mildred was her things. Mildred was a hoarder and nearly every inch from floor to ceiling was piled with her hoards. She was particular fond of TV shopping but she never seemed to get around to opening the boxes. When we combed through her things, after her death, many of the boxes were still sealed. All of her wares went into an estate sale and it was quite a site to see those wares spread out and filling a banquet hall.

During the cleaning of Mildred’s house, as we prepared it to be ours, we unearthed a soiled canvas painted by the artist who some years earlier resided there too.

The house is 560 square feet. When you walk in the door you enter a garage which holds an unfinished bathroom with one exposed wall. When you walk up the stairs you enter a space that would hold a dining room table and six chairs max. But, there was never a dining room table but instead two recliners and a TV. Behind the recliners are a miniature stove, sink and cabinets. That is the sole living area.

My father and I each had a bedroom but originally our rooms were one. My dad put in a dividing wall making two perfectly even small rooms. I remember when the rooms were still one.

Before the room was converted we went to visit the house with a few of my dad’s friends and their three sons. One of the sons was a boy that I was sure that I was 'in 13 year old love with’. His moppy blonde hair and searching eyes and lean strong boy body were impossible to resist. We swam in rivers together and explored trails and forests and by him I felt understood.

Fortunately he deeply admired my father. Unfortunately he listened to my father’s warning to never lay a finger on me. Only once did he break my father’s rule.

While my father and his friends were discussing how to rehabilitate our new home the kids entered a room that was to become two bedrooms but still remained one. We went in and for some reason we decided (probably because the house had a touch of a spooky feel) to hold a séance.

We sat on the floor in the dimly lit room and we all closed our eyes. Somebody started the séance and then I felt a hand grab on to mine and squeeze. It was his hand. He kept his hand inside of mine until we were all to open our eyes and then the hand was gone and it was like it never happened. But, it did. My body remembers it well. It never happened again.

Our house and the main house shared a driveway. As I grew up and grew into new relationships with boys I never let them into our home until they really knew me and things seemed serious. I am ashamed to admit this but I would stand at the end of the driveway and allow my date to infer that I was coming out of the main house. Most people assumed that our house was a garage. Indeed the realtor who has our house listed right now describes it as-

Tax Records call it a one story bungalow. I would consider it a converted barn or garage, dating back to 1929. Great potential as an artist’s studio. Enter from the rear into what appears to have been a garage.

If I could go back in time I would wait for every date by leaning against our house and take them inside to meet my Daddy.

The last time I saw my Dad he was sitting in his recliner upstairs. I kissed him goodbye and walked slowly down the stairs staring at him and him staring at me. I said- I love you Daddy. I will see you again soon.

He smiled back and I kept walking until I reached the door and made it outside. I nearly feel to the ground as a wave of fear gripped me and gobs of tears split my eyes. I must have known. Maybe he knew too.

My Dad kept my bedroom exactly the same as it was the day I moved out in my late teens. It stayed that way until I cleared my childhood space in November of 2009. I was 37 years old.

On this day one year ago I spoke to a kind doctor who requested that I cease life support efforts for my father. She told me that he was gone and if he somehow came back...he wouldn’t really be here anyway. I said – Ok. You can stop.

I don’t really know how I said anything coherent at all but it was clear enough for my dad to be pronounced dead.

1 year ago today was the end.

I remember when I was teenager and I was going to the bathroom in the ‘garage’ bathroom with one wall missing. There was a spider that emerged but it wasn’t an ordinary spider it was a hairy spider of nightmare proportions.

I screamed to my dad upstairs that he needed to come down immediately.

He remained upstairs and screamed down at me- You need to take care of this yourself.

And I was furious. My dad was my hero. He was my rescuer. Why wasn’t he helping me now?

I managed to circumvent the spider beast and I found a broom. I whacked and whacked the broom and the spider alluded me until finally I dealt it a fatal blow.

I swept the beaten spider into a dust pan and plopped it into a Ziploc bag. Even in shrunken death it still seemed sizably frightening.

I put the sealed spider next to the kitchen sink and wrote a note to my Dad-

I did it.

And the next morning I found a written reply from my Dad-

Good for you.

--

I want to take a moment to thank all of you- family, friends, readers- who have tenderly supported me this past year. I am humbled by your collective embrace. Whether it be.... a phone call, a letter, a comment, an email or purely you reading along and thinking of me and my family. It has carried me through this year so quickly that I am left wondering-

A year? Really?

My father was not a verbal man but he always signed his letters to me xoxo- Dad.

xoxo to you Daddy and to all of you who have held us in your thoughts. It means that much and more. Thank you. Thank you so much.

-Diane

Meet the Monsters

2010-10-18T21:49:00.000-07:00

This is them...the ones that threaten our bathroom. Frightful bunch wouldn’t you say? YD was too scared to speak about them. She was shaking with tears streaming. So, I asked her if she could draw them for me so that I could see the army that we were up against. She agreed.

After she drew them all she was able to name them. Then she told me about them and how they were able to sneak into our home and make their way up to our bathroom. As she talked her shaking and tears were less and less. I took it all quite seriously because, as we all know, fears, whether real or imaginary- well they all feel really real.

I told YD that I had a fear and it was really big. She asked what it was and I told her- I am scared of heights. Then I spoke about some fears that other people in our family held on to.

Fortunately I don't need to stand next to a cliff everyday. Unfortunately YD needed to be able to use the upstairs bathroom which is next to her room.

Finally I asked YD-

What are the bathroom monsters afraid of? Everyone is afraid of something what are they afraid of?

And she said-

They are all afraid of the chickenpox.

And I said-

Oh. Ok. Well let’s talk about each of their individual fears.

And she said (with many pauses & hmms)-

Well the monster doesn’t like plants.

The goblin is scared of food stuff.

The mummy doesn’t like paper.

The vampire is afraid of tomatoes.

And the crocodile really doesn’t like flowers.

-

...and so the Monster Protection Plan began to come together.

Care to share what you think happened next?

-Diane

The Accident Happened Here.

2010-10-15T23:49:00.000-07:00

We went back. We were told that the gap was repaired and we went to see it for ourselves.

In the first photo you can see the new brown repair boards. When YD had her accident those were not there. Instead there was a hole straight down to the river. When the accident happened, YD approached the red building window from the right (I was also standing to the right) and stood on top of the rail road tie. She slipped and fell in between the closest rail tie (in the photo) and the building.

In the second photo you can see the complex underworld of the boardwalk and what we would have navigated if we needed to jump in to rescue YD.

In the third photo is the view from the nearest jump in point if we would have needed to jump in and save our child.

--

I have to be honest. I haven’t spoken about the accident with YD every day. I was afraid of nurturing some kind of pathology within her.

I really thought that she was kind of getting over it.

We just had a parent teacher conference for YD and the teacher exclaimed-

She is always so happy!

But, just as with adoption topics, this is a topic that needs me to be at the steering wheel. Because YD needs me to bring up the unspeakable. She needs me to work on it and work through it.

Because now we have monsters in our bathroom. I didn’t know we did but according to YD we have many monsters lurking around. I won’t say how we discovered these monsters but I will tell you for sure that they are real. And all of these insidious creatures lurk in the bathroom, where water is plentiful and sinks run, and toilets flush and bath water spirals down the drain.

In order of scariness we have (in our upstairs bathroom)-

A crocodile

A vampire

A mummy

A monster

A goblin

--

We are now enacting the great- Monster Scare Plan.

It is complicated and tricky but I think we can do this Monster War thing. Detailed War Plans to follow.

-Diane

Recovering

2010-10-05T21:33:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for your thoughts, prayers and concerns for YD after her accident. She seems to be recovering as well as can be expected. She is able to play on the playground at school now without worry. I don’t think I mentioned that she receive a superficial wound to her leg that I believe happened during her initial fall. She has been reluctant to remove the bandage and seems to be holding onto it in a symbolic way. But, every day she discusses what happened with less frequency.

We phoned the owner of the building where the hole was located on the day of the accident. We also notified the Dance Studio so that they could warn all of the families with little ones who might venture to look into the studio window as YD did. Both were very understanding and responsive. The area has now been secured.

I think I will take YD & OD to look at the accident site and see that it is fixed and safe. Maybe this weekend we will head down there. I want to make sure that I am confident when we visit. It wouldn’t help for me to not have my emotional self in check. Thank you also for thinking about me. I keep reminding myself that my child is still here and that needs to be celebrated. It was indeed horrifying but I am doing ok. As always- writing it all down was cathartic.

I guess I am realizing that death leaves plenty of time for mourning. This harrowing experience made me want to embrace the now in a new way. So I am trying not to flash back or flash forward but just be here right now.

--

You know what helps?

What helps is a love letter like the one that YD wrote the day after her accident.

It reads -

You are the best Mom. You to Dad. You to OD. Dear Mom you are the best mom ever. Sweet love for you and you to Dad. I love you. I want you to have a good day. You to OD you are the best sister in the wolrd OD and every one. You are the best. Sweet peipple. Hug and kiss for all of you.

Love,

YD

--

Sweet love back to you YD. You are the sweetest peipple that I was ever blessed to know.

-Diane

Death Comes Too Close

2010-10-02T22:43:00.000-07:00

It was a beautiful day. The kind of day that makes you breathe deep and makes you wonder why you ever worry about anything. Who can worry when the sun is warm and the sky is filled with those puffy clouds that make you want to skip?

Our family set out of our home and proceeded to meander our way down our town’s hills. Every once in awhile we would round a bend and see the great river inviting us forward. As we always do -we chatted as we walked, we discussed everything and nothing in particular. We held hands as we crossed the street and sometimes a child’s hand would linger a little longer after the safe crossing had passed.

My youngest daughter picked dandelions along the way. When she grew weary of carrying them she would declare- Here Mommy, I picked these just for you!

My oldest daughter revels in our family walks and this day was no exception. Her openness as we stride side by side makes me wonder what I might have missed if we didn’t take these walks to begin with. Would her openness have emerged another way?

We eventually made it to our town center that runs along the great river. Usually we parade along the river far from town but this time we decided to weave in and out of our little town shops before we walked side by side with the water.

Our spirits were high when we discovered a new shop in town. It featured international products with a heavy focus on products from China. The store was an open front store like so many we saw during our adoption trips to China. Windblown color laden kites and dragons invited us in. Some items brought back memories. All of the items made us smile.

My little one asked my husband (as he was the only one with a wallet) if she could please purchase a teeny tiny porcelain Chinese kitten. There were various colored kittens and each of them held a special meaning. The pink kitty that my child chose was supposed to be a symbol for Good Luck. My husband indulged her and my oldest daughter said that she didn’t really want a kitten. (This was an interesting phenomenon in itself)

And then we made our way to the expansive boardwalk that lines the great river.

--

Did I tell you that the river has been my friend for many years? I know that sounds silly. But, it has. My husband proposed to me next to the river. My youngest daughter has grown up by its side. My oldest daughter has opened her deepest self to me as the river watched. I have grieved the loss of my father step by step along its water path.

--

And this day, this beautiful day, we stepped onto the river boardwalk and our hearts were light.

--

And then something happened. How do I tell you about it? I know that it isn’t the rivers fault but I still want to hold it accountable.

--

We were on the river boardwalk. All of us. My husband rounded a corner and we stayed behind. My daughters wanted to peer into a window that was a view inside a little dance studio housed on the boardwalk. They are both consummate dancers and they wanted to see inside the little studio that other little feet chose to free their dancer selves.

My oldest looked into the window first.

Then my youngest stepped forward for a look too.

That is when it happened.

--

When my youngest stepped forward she disappeared. Not completely. But almost so.

--

Unbeknownst to us- there was a gap in between the building and the boardwalk. The gap was big enough to swallow a child the size of my little child.

--

And swallow her it did.

Except for her head which was still visible and one arm remained above the boardwalk. The rest of her body was swallowed and remained hovered 20 feet above my river below.

--

She doesn’t know how to swim.

--

I saw her head and arm and I knew that if she moved the foot that kept her in this world that she would enter another world.

--

You see, her foot was lodged when she fell and if she turned that foot a mere inch then she would have dropped into the river and not only the river...but the extensive underworld wooden system that supports the boardwalk and the never more used wooden stakes that supported a now ghost pier.

--

There was silence as I stepped towards her in slow motion. Nothing moved fast enough. I knew the terror without hearing the sound.

--

I reached her and reached down to find her tiny wedged body. Somehow I managed to grip her under her arm and yank her out. It was a brutal pull but it was life versus death and I have no memory of fear of injuring her. I just pulled without any other goal but life for my child.

--

But, I did injure her.

--

When I pulled her out I knocked the wind out of her and it felt like eternity before she could respond. She later said that she could hear us but she just wasn’t able to speak.

--

Her scratches and bruises are the least of her problems. Somehow, someway, she is physically here and going to be fine. But, inside is what worries me. She can’t stop talking about what happened and almost happened. Over and over she replays it all and asks me to replay it all with her. She told her teacher that she was afraid of playing on the playground because she was afraid of what will happen.

Because, from her school playground, she views the great river, that was about to consume her, and she fears that there are other possible gateways to a watery demise.

--

This month marks a year since my father died. The lesson I have learned- no matter how prepared, no matter how hard you watch, death can come quickly. In fact, it always comes quickly. There is no way to be ready.

-Diane

Talking to the Moon

2010-09-22T21:55:00.000-07:00

Tonight, in honor of the Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival (aka Moon Festival), we sat on our porch and gazed at the moon.

It was a clear night except for a few clouds that flanked the moon.

OD said the moon tonight was not as big as it was when she viewed it in China.

I sat on the left. OD sat in the middle. YD sat on the right (except for her occasional flitting around in moonbeams).

And then we began to share our thoughts and wishes and prayers on this day.

I asked who wanted to speak first and YD asked for OD to go first. She did.

OD spoke to the moon-

I hope that my foster parents had a wonderful day and had a lot of fun today. I wish I was in China because I would have carried lanterns and stayed up late tonight. I miss China. I miss everyone that I ever knew and loved there. To my biological mommy- I miss you.

--

OD leaned her body close into mine as we sat and listened to YD share her thoughts. YD asked me-

Can I pray? Like a God like prayer?

I said-

Of course. It is up to you to decide and we will listen.

--

YD prayed to the moon-

I hope my foster family had a great day. I hope that my mom in China will recognize me when she sees me. I hope that she knows how wonderful I am. I wish that we will be together again and that she will know who I am. I hope that Grandy (my dad) will take a trip from heaven to outer space and get a closer look at the moon.

--

We came in after a few tears and hugs were shed. I put the girls to bed. And as I was turning her light out YD said-

I remember in China eating from a bowl this big (gestures with hands) and inside the bowl was fruit...it was pears. It was kind of like apple sauce but not really. I sat at a little table with OD and she finished her fruit but I didn’t finish mine. OD went to talk to our foster father and I followed her so that I could hear what she told him.

--

I asked YD if she was told this story by OD and she said- no, I just remember.

--

I called OD out of her room and asked YD to tell OD the story. I asked OD if she remembered what YD was talking about. OD said-

YD always followed me around in China. We did have bowls that size and they had fancy decorations on them. To which YD exclaimed –

Yes! Those were the bowls.

And OD said-

And we did have a little table that we sat at. Was it the little table by the window or the one with walls all around?

YD said-

It had walls all around and was this big. (gestures with hands)

OD said-

Yes. That was the table size. We would sit and eat there together sometimes.

--

As OD made her way back to bed she said-

Sometimes I remember for my sister and sometimes she remembers for me.

--

I can’t express the honor I feel and the fear that grips me when these early memories are shared. I am honored to witness a memory that surfaces in my children. YD was only 2 ½ when she was adopted and OD was almost 8. The fear- I know I would have been quick to dismiss YD’s early memories if OD was not here to confirm them.

--

Listen just listen. Believe even when it seems impossible. Don’t worry about who is – mother, mom or mommy. Names are meaningless but opening your heart to your child’s heart is everything.

-Diane

School, Murder & Adoption is Creepy

2010-09-18T13:44:00.000-07:00

School by Scott Kirby

School awkwardness has reared itself in so many ways that I don’t know where to begin.

I’ll start with YD’s 2nd grade orientation and teacher meeting. YD and I were seated at a little table with three other families.

The first family- a first mother with her 2nd grade daughter that she kept. I wrote about this first mom awhile back. Last year I asked her how her baby was and she began a long story about how she relinquished her baby to adoptive parents and they are in an open adoption.

The second family- A father with his 2nd grade daughter. This family adopted a little boy from foster care several years ago. The child is no longer in the family...he was disrupted. (Although I believe that they do maintain contact and still consider him their son.)

The third family- A Chinese American mom with her Chinese American 2nd grade daughter.

It was odd to be sitting in mini-seats at a mini- table with the whole triad and then some.

Forms were passed around. (Have I mentioned my phobia of forms? A pile of forms makes my palms sweat. ) Everyone casually filled out inane form after inane forms which are exactly the same as the forms I filled out last year...and the year before that.

Then I notice a new form. It was two pages. The first question was –

Was English your child’s first language?

Well, IF I wrote YES then the form was complete. If I wrote NO then I needed to fill out this two page form which obviously didn’t pertain to YD who was speaking Cantonese for a mere 2 ½ years. Oh the temptation, because other families were done their forms and I was still sweating my way through them.
--

On to OD’s 6th grade orientation (new middle school) where she was getting her first dreaded locker. Those lockers should be banned because even as an adult I have nightmares that I forgot my locker combination and won’t make it to class before the bell. Technology has come so far but lockers being user friendly- not so much.

We met with ODs teacher and listened to his rules and regs and general how he runs his class information. I was zoning in and out because these meetings were early and my body was still on summer time.

I perked up when he talked about his world travels and his stay in Taiwan. Then he announced that the students would be doing an entire unit on CHINA. OD glanced at me with initial joy and then a little panic set in. I get that- she only has one other Chinese American student in her class (who I will get to in a bit!)

When the teacher was finished we waited for everyone else to file out of the classroom. I then introduced myself and let the teacher know that OD lived in China for 8 years. I think it was important for him to keep this in the back of his mind as he discussed ODs birth country. Then he started speaking Mandarin- little greetings and counting- even I was able to pick up most of what he was saying. OD said that his accent was really good. Good, good.

--

First day of school...

OD came home really happy. She said that she took recess in the library to get a break from the craziness of the first day. (She has gone to the library for recess every day since with one exception) I asked her if she was avoiding things or if it just made her happy. She said- The library is really cool, it has big cushy chairs, and I like it there.

OD is a total bookworm and loves books and libraries. I love that we share that passion for reading. Her new Middle School library has a large selection of age appropriate Manga (Japanese comic books) which our local library does not carry. So, again...good. good.

--

YD’s first day started out with her school bus forgetting our stop. But, she seemed to have a great day even though she was late!

--

In the days since...

The second day, YD and I tried the bus stop once again. This time there was another mother & daughter waiting too. The mom was Asian American and her daughter looked like a mini-me. The daughter truly looks uncannily like me at the age of 6- blonde hair with a wave of curl and bright blue eyes. The only difference is the shape of her Asian eyes. So there we stood- two moms who looked like we switched children to hold hands with. The bus driver did a double take as we said goodbye to each of our un-matching daughters.

--

Yesterday YD was distraught at bedtime. I asked her what was going on. She said that a little boy in her class confided to her that his mother murdered someone and was now in jail. YD asked him- Is she eating ok? Does she like the jail food?

Of course, underneath her questions was a huge concern for the little boy and his mom. YD was so sad even though she knew it was wrong to kill someone- this was someone’s mom in jail. I decided to contact the teacher for support. YD went off to school with a letter from me addressed to her teacher.

--

Today OD came home and told me an incident that happened on her bus on the way home. She was sitting next to her Chinese American classmate that I referenced above. The girl started asking OD about her adoption. OD said-

I was born in China and I was raised by a foster family. Then when I was about 8 my parents came from here and adopted me and brought me to the US.

And the girl responded by saying-

Ewwwwwww. That is SO creepy.

--

OD was hurt and was unable to respond at all. It cut deep and even deeper coming from another Chinese American.

--

I thought I was ready for the girls to go back to school. I was pondering all of the things that I would get done while they were away learning and playing. But, all that I have accomplished so far is one long bubble bath and a couple of naps.

-Diane

(Edited to add- The little boy in YD’s class made up the story about his murdering mom. I had a good chat with the teacher after she received my letter and phoned me. If you have any advice on how to help OD with the ‘creepy’ comment...do share!)

Greek Mythology- By YD

2010-09-14T17:09:00.000-07:00

Greek Mythology by YD

A conversation in the car with YD:

YD- So mommy, am I famous like you?

Me- I didn’t know that I was famous?

YD- Sure you are. You have that ‘bog’.

Me- Huh?

YD- You know! Your ‘bog’ that people read.

Me- Oh right. It is called a blog not a bog.

YD- Anyway, since you are famous on your bog does that make me famous?

Me- I wouldn’t really say that my blog makes me famous honey.

YD- Well what about me? Am I famous on the bog?

Me- Definitely. You are definitely bog famous.

YD- I thought so.

(A few minutes later)

YD- I wrote a story about Greek mythology. The bog readers will probably want to read it.

Me- I am sure they will honey. I’m sure they will.

-Diane

If you ask the questions...be ready for the answers

2010-09-11T22:15:00.000-07:00

Painting by Paul Ruiz

I’ve spoken here before about the importance of building an ‘emotion vocabulary’ with children. I always tell my children that all feelings are normal. All of them. But we need to make decisions about what we do with our feelings and how we use them.

When I adopted YD, at age 2 ½, I would draw different faces expressing different emotions. I would ask her to point to which one she was feeling- it might be one emotion or maybe two or three. It was so helpful to me as far as helping me meet her where she was at.

When I adopted OD, at age almost 8, some of the first English words that I taught her were emotion words- sad, happy, angry, etc. (There were several feeling words included in the flash cards that I discussed in my last post.) We also played ‘emotions’ charades where we would act out a feeling and everyone needed to guess what feeling we were acting out.

Today I decided to create an activity for the girls to reflect on their first month following their adoption. I created a list of feeling words and printed them out for each of the girls and one for me to read from. They were asked to think back to their adoptions and rate each word according to whether they felt it or not. (For YD I simplified the grading system to meet her ability.) I read each word aloud. If they were unclear about a word meaning we would discuss the definition. YD was lightning quick to answer. OD took a little more time.

After we finished they shared their answers and discussed their feelings and reflections.

Then OD asked if she could say the words to me and then I wrote down my ratings according to how I felt during their initial adoption journeys.

YD used the following scale – 0 = Not at all/ 5= Sometimes/ 10= Always

OD and I used the scale- 0 to 10, with 0 being Not at All/ and 10 being Always
---
Here are some of the results-

frustrated YD(10) OD(10) Me(8)

nervous YD(5) OD(5) Me(10)

worried YD(10) OD(5) Me(7)

scared YD(10) OD(2) Me(5)

grief YD(10) OD(3) Me(8)

judged YD(10) OD(10) Me(9)

undeserving YD(5) OD(0) Me(5)

empty YD(10) OD(0) Me(1)

insecure YD(10) OD(10) Me(9)

miserable YD(10) OD(10) Me(3)

alone YD(10) OD(10) Me(7)

worthless YD((10) OD(10) Me(5))

happy YD(0) OD(2) Me(4)

loved YD(0) OD(0) Me(0)

calm YD(0) OD(0) Me(4)

smile YD(0) OD(0) Me(5)

glad YD(0) OD(2) Me(6)

excited YD(0) OD(2) Me(8)

peaceful YD(0) OD(0) Me(0)

lovely YD(5) OD(0) Me(4)

trusting YD(0) OD(0) Me(3)

hopeful YD(5) OD (10) Me(10)

positive YD(0) OD(0) Me(5)

safe YD(5) OD(0) Me(9)

brave YD(0) OD(0) Me(7)

proud YD(0) OD(1) Me(6)
---

What surprised me-

1. YD was so fast, firm and clear with her answers. There was a small window once where she glamorized her adoption. (She would say things about her adoption photos like- I was crying because it took you so long to get to me. I would gently remind her about who she was really crying for- and it wasn’t me!) She was so confident with her answers during this activity.

2. OD’s rating of ‘grief’ initially surprised me. But after talking with her I got it. She did not allow herself to grieve because she was too busy keeping herself safe.

3. OD giving happy, glad and excited anything more than a 0. She said that she was happy, glad, excited to be seeing so many new things outside of her small community in China. We did see some amazing parts of China and I am so glad that OD was able to enjoy some of it.

4. Everyone’s rating of hopeful. Speaks volumes to me. If I look at all of the negative emotions that were in control it blows me away that hope was somehow retained by all.
---

What surprised OD about my answers-

1. How insecure I felt and why. I guess I come across as the opposite (?) but internally I am always second guessing myself.

2. How alone I felt sometimes even with the support of my husband, friends and family.

3. How judged I felt on many levels, by my girls, but most of all by their foster family. This ties back to my own insecurity. Obviously, the foster family grew to trust me as they asked me to return and adopt OD. Plus, they had every right to judge me. I would do exactly the same thing in their shoes. My children were theirs long before they were ever mine.
---

This activity can be modified in a million ways. Please make it your own and use it as you wish to foster deeper discussions in your life.

I know how intimidating it is to examine the hard stuff- how painful and overwhelming it feels. But, I also know that after years of facing the pain and listening to the pain- it is well worth it.

At the end of this activity I asked the girls to pick a word that they think their rating would be different for today than it was then-

Almost simultaneously they both said-

Loved. Now I feel loved.

Truly they did say the exact same thing. And truly love is not a month or sometimes year long journey...it can sometimes take a lifetime.

Here is a great article about the myths surrounding adoption and instant love-

Insta-Attachment myths

-Diane

Wo Ai Ni Mommy- My Long 2 Cents

2010-09-04T15:36:00.000-07:00

Painting by Jim Dine

The following are my thoughts regarding the film Wo Ai Ni (I Love You) directed by Stephanie Wang-Breal. I welcome your thoughts and reflections in the comment section. If you haven’t viewed the film it can be watched in full online here at -http://www.pbs.org/pov/woainimommy/

---

The things that we have in common with the family portrayed in Wo Ai Ni (I Love You) Mommy-

Caucasian couple who adopted two girls from China. My girls were adopted out of birth order- youngest daughter came home before oldest. My first daughter came home at the age of 2 ½ and my second came home a few weeks shy of 8 years old. Both of my girls were fostered through the Social Welfare Institute in China. My oldest daughter spoke both Cantonese and Mandarin. (Cantonese was spoken in the foster home and Mandarin was taught in school as the National language.) We have an ongoing relationship with the girls’ foster family (the girls were raised in the same foster home).

First, let me say this- as a writer I fully understand that, once my work goes public, it must stand on its own. Certainly this is true for film as well- once it is released it must stand on its own. People must be allowed to approach art (novels, memoirs, movies, art exhibits) and absorb it and walk away with their own reflections. Everyone will approach art from a different life angle. I think those of us in the adoption community approach this particular film with a very personal lens.

With that said....it is difficult for me to begin a review of this film. We watched it online as a family the other night. My oldest daughter and I cried through at least half of the film. It was painful and triggering to watch. We have discussed the film at length after we viewed it as it was important for us to process through what we saw.

The family portrayed in the film adopted their oldest daughter from Guangzhou, China. The United States consulate is in Guangzhou. If you are an American couple adopting from China then Guangzhou will be a last stop in the adoption process. So, the images of China in the film were familiar. Little things like the playground in the opening...more likely than not- if you were Americans adopting in China then your children probably played on the same playground set.

Speaking of the beginning of the film- I wish that the child could have been filmed before her adoption took place. I wish we could have seen her with her foster family prior to adoption. I wish we could have witnessed, as harrowing as it must have been, her return to the orphanage. This might not have been an option for the film maker but beginning the film with the adoption reinforces a sense that adoption is somehow the beginning when in fact it is the end to so much.

When I was in the process of adopting my youngest daughter (YD) in 2005 I became aware of the practice in China of removing children from the foster home and returning them to the orphanage. Apparently it is done to ease the child’s transition but it is cruel at best and adds another layer of trauma. I phoned my adoption agency and insisted that they contact my daughter’s SWI and make it clear that I did not want this to happen to my future child. It worked. I made the same request in 2007 when I returned to adopt my oldest daughter (OD) and again my wishes were respected.

In the film Wo Ai Ni Mommy we see a child who is clearly utterly terrified being handed off to her adoptive mother. OD said that it reminded her of when she was adopted and there were so many people whispering in her ear and telling her in Cantonese how to behave and what to say. She remembered how overwhelming it was to be listening to all of their instructions. From my perspective- I remember, throughout both of our adoption journeys, the times when it was clear that our translators were editing what was being said to us in Mandarin/Cantonese. Very frustrating.

I know the adoptive mother has received a good bit of criticism for drilling English. Interestingly we have the same language cards that were used in the film. I know the mother was eager for her child to learn English, and I get that, but my issue is with the way it was done. There is nothing fun about staring at cards and repeating words. Even if only for 5 minutes. The child was emotionally exhausted and they were still in China. Those language cards have so many fun ways that they can be used. We had two sets of cards that included food, transportation, weather, and different ailments like- belly ache, headache. Most importantly, there are cards for emotions-happy, sad, angry. We played many games with them and OD taught me the Chinese words as she was learning the English words.

In the film we witness a child who is overcome with grief and trying to remember English words like bagel and hamburger. She throws herself into the hotel bed and declares how hard it is to remember it all. The mother asks the filmmaker to translate to the child- Is this really torture? The child responds with- You are white and I am Chinese. To which the mother responds- Do you think I am ugly?

OD’s comment on this scene was- The mother missed the point. The child was saying that they were so different and how could they possibly overcome those differences. She wasn’t talking about their outsides...she was talking about their insides.

The adoptive family has been commended elsewhere for meeting the foster family and maintaining contact. In 2005, when I was adopting YD, I demanded to be allowed to meet her foster family. I was told by our guide that it would set YD back. I wasn’t taking no for an answer. There was no way that I was leaving China without connecting with the people who raised my child. It was not the honorable thing to do- it was the right thing to do. Of course, if you have read here before, you know that I met OD during our adoption of YD and our family would not be the same if I took our guide’s advice.

There is a scene where the child struggles to carry her school books and collapses in sheer grief. Mom walks away. There are scattered similar scenes where mom interprets the child’s meltdown behaviors as ‘hissy fits’ but doesn’t address the trauma that lies under the behavior.

Trauma manifests itself in all different ways and reprimands and platitudes don’t soothe the pain.

Punishment of a traumatized child- doesn’t work. Ignoring a traumatized child- doesn’t help either.

Platitudes like- Give it some time and I love you...can’t be heard by a traumatized child.

Listening, just listening to the pain- can help.

In the film we don’t see the adoptive mother just listening. We don’t see the mother ask her child to tell her more...how do you feel? What does your pain feel like?

I’m not saying that listening is easy because it can be pretty shredding to acknowledge our own part in our adopted child’s grief. Additionally, it is just so hard to witness the grief without wanting to yank it out of our children. But, we can’t. Listening is the least we can do.

Watching the child Skype with her foster family was tough. The child was no longer able to converse with them on her own. I vividly remember the last conversation that OD had with her foster family in Cantonese. She kept interjecting English words and it was clear that she was unable to hold on to her first languages. I held OD for a long time as she grieved her new reality.

After OD watched the film she discussed the guilt that she felt over losing her Chinese language skills. She said- There were too many languages and with so much going on with my life I just couldn’t hold on (to Cantonese/Mandarin) anymore. I feel bad about that...like I should have tried harder.

There were discussions in the film, by both the adoptive mother and the foster parents, about the adopted child’s disability and the possible discrimination that she might face if she remained in China. There is a fine line being walked here- telling the child about their disability without creating a ‘grateful’ or ‘saved’ adoptee message. It is a line that all adoptive parents of special needs children walk.

Adopting an 8 year old from another country/language/culture is far from easy. Honestly, I felt that the film made it seem a little too easy. The film did not reflect the complexities that I have witnessed in my children both behaviorally and emotionally. The loss of the first family of the child was never mentioned. (I wonder what their perspective would be if they were ever able to witness the film?)

But, I realize that 18 months were condensed into a little over an hour.

I also realize that there is no such thing as the perfect parent. I have made my own fair share of mommy mistakes. Thankfully I have a great support network to remind me that it is my responsibility to get back on track- not my children’s. The film makes no mention of the attachment/bonding/therapeutic parenting process involved in the adoption of an older child. For me, this was a glaring omission.

I am grateful that a film maker took on the task of capturing the adoption of an older internationally adopted child. Frankly, there is not a whole lot out there. I am also grateful for the discussion the film has provoked.

There is a lot more to say but I think I will stop here...

OD’s overall reaction to the film-

I felt like the mother was running in a race to make her child learn English and become American. It was like if she finished the race that there would be some kind of trophy. Like she wanted the trophy and then everything would be normal and they would just move on as Americans.

I asked OD-

Is there an end to the adoption race?

And OD said-

No Mommy. There is no end.

-Diane

When To Search- A Poll

2010-08-26T19:18:00.000-07:00

painting by Bob Dornberg

Please find the following poll posted at the bottom of this page-

Would you/will you begin a first family search before an adopted child has reached the age of 16?

-No

-Yes

-Only in case of a medical crisis

-Not Sure

--

This is not a poll for adoptive parents but for all of you who are reading along here!

If you have additional thoughts on this topic please share them in the comments section.

This is an important topic in our lives right now and I look forward to your vote and perspective.

Scroll down and you will find the poll in the middle of the bottom of the page...

The poll will close on September 10th.

(Edited to add- A call from my Mom tonight. My mom asked me- so what is with this poll thing? And I told her about it and she says- I don’t see anywhere to vote?...and I said- Mom you need to go all the way down the page. And she said- I am at the bottom of the page and there is nothing. And I said- No, Mom, you need to scroll down as far as you can go. All the way down to the bottom....and she says- Like to the part about Adoptees or this Russian thing?...and I said- keep going Mom all the way to the bottom. And she said- This is insane. Seriously, other people have figured this out?...and I said- Seriously they have. And then she gets to the bottom and says- There is nothing to click on. And I said- Click on the little circles next to where you want to vote. And she said- There are no circles. And I said- Ok. Open up Internet Explorer and see if you can see them there. And she said- go to Verizon? I opened it but it says thank you for loading Google toolbar, I didn’t do that but ok, thanks anyway...

The entire conversation was much longer than this but- love you mom. Happy voting! xo)

-Diane

p.s. Thanks to all who responded to my hair cut post. I truly appreciate your thoughts. We will be seeking out a more diverse salon. Thanks to you I was able to turn the experience around and use it as a 'teachable' moment.

Hair Cuts & Word Cuts

2010-08-22T21:42:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I took the girls to the Hair Salon. The girls’ hair needs grew beyond my trim skills and it was time for professional intervention.

OD wanted to keep her hair length but she needed a lighter style to accommodate her ballet bun. YD was set on going shorter- to my amazement. Ever since OD came home- YD was all about growing her hair out so it could be as long as her big sister. It was an obsession to grow, grow, grow. Shorter was a gigantic switch and I still haven’t figured out what inspired YD to snip up.

--

We entered the Salon and were greeted by two ‘hair dressers’ (HDs). Each of the girls was assigned their own special HD. The girls were full of nervous energy and excitement. Their own HD might as well have been a limo driver to an amusement park. Both girls were jittered with anticipation and equally excited and hesitant to begin their transformation. Sitting in the HD’s chair was like boarding a roller coaster and not being sure if they would survive- but the rush was too big to resist.

--

I conferred with both HDs and sought their advice and expressed my concerns and wants. We huddled and we strategized and then we broke huddle....let the Hair Games begin.

--

Here is where I will interject an insignificant/very important detail...

The salon was very clean and very white. The HDs and all of the customers were standing/seated/salted in white washed Caucasian.

--

The scissors came out and the cutting began.

--

And then the hair games entered into another game entirely and I still don’t know what in the world game I was playing.

--

YD’s HD is snipping away and then she says to me-

Your hair is so beautiful.

And I said-

Thank you so much.

--

She kept going and said-

No, Really! Your hair is amazing!

And I said-

Thank you.

And she said-

Too bad your girls didn’t ‘get’ your hair.

(?)

--

(Sigh. Why here? Why now?)

I said something like-

My girls’ hair is beautiful. I would trade them in a second for their hair. My girls are able to do so many things with their gorgeous straight hair that I could never do with mine.

(FYI-Curly hair is super stifling. Not the point but so true.)

--

And then I tried to move on, focusing on whatever my girls needed- verbally encouraging my girls and offering my support and random – wow...you look gorgeous and Oh My.... You are too beautiful for words!

--

Then YD noticed a woman in perm curlers and said to me-

Mommy...What are all of those things in that ladies hair?

Before I could respond- OD’s HD decided to enter the conversation. (How in the wicked world OD’s HD even heard this conversation...I don’t know. They were on the opposite side of the salon.) OD’s HD blasted her voice across the room-

Honey that woman wants to make her hair look just like your Mama’s. People spend a lot of money so that they can look just like your Maa-maa! People pay big money and time to have hair just like hers. Oh yes they do.

--

There I was...with women who held scissors to my children’s heads. But their words were scissors too.

--

As you can see, in the photos above, their hair looks great. The experience- not so great.

What do you think? Was there something I could have done/said differently? Did I over/under react?

If my children were Caucasian would the same conversation have taken place?

If the HDs were a Minority would the same conversation have taken place?

-Diane

Join Us for a Walk

2010-08-17T21:50:00.000-07:00

Our walk the other day. It started out as a scorcher. And then the fog rolled. The fog allowed us to venture out and explore. We are always at our best- when opening our minds and bodies to our incredible surroundings. Sometimes our life mirrors the game of Monopoly- we wait for a lucky ‘get out of jail for free’ card. And when we get out- we celebrate our luck.

-Diane

Meet Song

2010-08-13T14:30:00.000-07:00

(please read the post below this for the beginning of the story)

So, Little A began chemotherapy and was fitted for an eye prosthetic.

I remember talking to my friend as she sat with Little A in the hospital for her first round of chemo.

She said- They are about to pump poison into my baby’s body. How can I let them do this?

--

Every test, exam, scan, blood draw...we drew our collective breath.

The cancer never spread to Little A’s functioning eye.

Today she is cancer free.

--

In August of 2008- Little A’s mom was contacted by the organization Love Without Boundaries. LWB was aware of a 6 month old little boy (in China) who was suspected of having retinoblastoma. LWB was put in contact with my friend through our adoption agency.

The little boy was named Song.

Of course, when dealing with potential cancer, the earlier the intervention the better.

LWB, my friend, and I began to advocate for Song and raise the funds necessary to assist Song’s medical treatment. People were generous with their donations. After the funds were raised...we waited.

--

The next news to come in was to inform us that Song did indeed have retinoblastoma. They removed the cancerous eye. His adoption paperwork was pulled out of the queue.

--

Over the course of 2 years there were many stops and starts to Song’s treatment. One of the stops was the outbreak of H1N1 and the inability for Song to leave the orphanage for follow up care.

By the time Song was able to receive medical treatment again the cancer had spread to the other eye.

His second eye was removed.

--

The next step was to wait for Song to return to the medical facility and receive a scan to declare if the cancer was fully removed.

It was.

Song was cleared of cancer.

The Chinese officials agreed to make him once again available for adoption.

--
Song is now about 2 1/2 years old and he currently resides in an orphanage in the Fujian Province in China.

Love Without Boundaries has given permission for Song’s photos and story to be shared.

He currently has a $2500 adoption grant. In addition my friend is matching all donations towards his adoption fund.

Donations can be made here through Love Without Boundaries.

In the note type- Song’s adoption grant

--
Song doesn’t need rescued.

Song doesn’t need saved.

Song does need the physical, emotional and medical support that the right family could provide.

-Diane

Meet Little A

2010-08-11T21:46:00.000-07:00

(Little A when we met her in China)

(Little A now in YD's hand me down ballerina outfit)

After we began the adoption process of OD, one of my best friends began the process of adopting a special needs child from China. Coincidentally- my friend’s child resided in the same city that OD lived in and where YD once lived as well.

My friend’s child, Little A, was diagnosed with an eye disorder-microthalmia and blindness in one eye. In essence- she had one eye that was no longer functional. Otherwise, she was a perfectly healthy little girl.

--

In March of 2007 we traveled to China to bring home OD. While I was there I requested to meet Little A’s foster family. This would be the 4th foster family that I would have the privilege of meeting and spending time with in China.

Little A’s foster mother showed up at the orphanage meeting room at the same time that my girl’s foster family arrived. It was a swirl and dizzy emotional experience. I wanted to spend the time needed with my girls’ foster family and simultaneously I knew that I needed to document Little A’s experiences both for her and for my dear friend waiting.

My girls’ foster family was trying to scoop up YD who was all over the room. By the time we returned to China- YD only vaguely remembered her foster family and was very fearful that they would take her back. She loved them once but she was done with changing families. She dodged their grasps.

When I look back at the footage of those intertwining meetings... I see-

My girls foster family trying to simultaneously absorb...the return of YD and the approaching loss of both YD and OD together. Tears were being suppressed. I was so over stimulated myself that I can only now see the way that they were emotional grappling themselves-through still photos.

There was also Little A’s foster mother who couldn’t stop talking about Little A. She was oozing pride. She smiled and waved her hands and was just overjoyed about discussing Little A. Little A was obviously doted on and fully loved.

I wish I could go back and do that whole meeting over. I wish I could look each and every person in that room in the eye and say what I really wanted say. I would stand in front of each and every one of them and trust our guide to translate my heart.

Instead I captured pictures and film without sharing completely the depth of my own emotions.

--

Both of my girls’ foster family and Little A’s foster family were approaching elderly. Little A called her foster parents the Chinese equivalent of Grandma and Grandpa.

Little A was eventually loaded into a wicker bicycle basket and we said our goodbyes. Her foster mother would have talked all night but it was time to go. It was time for us to part paths and time for us to focus on my girls’ foster family. It was time to say goodbye for now. I remember Little A kept her beautiful head tilted down. I thought she was quite shy or maybe she was compensating for having only one functional eye?

--

OD came home and then Little A came home a few months after our 2nd journey to China.

--

Little A had a difficult transition into her new family. She was not responsive. She wouldn’t eat. She was diagnosed as failure to thrive. I talked with my best friend, we strategized, and we tried to drum up out of the heavens an answer to how to help Little A. She was withering away and nobody seemed to have the answers on how to help her survive her grief.

--

As Little A approached her first holiday season in the US- there was also the need to discuss how to medically move forward with her eye special need. After much debate- it was decided that Little A should have her blind eye enucleated (removed) in order to prepare the eye socket for an orbital implant and subsequent eye prosthetic. The doctors seemed in agreement. My friend struggled.

Little A had been through too much already. But, unfortunately, there was so much more to come.

--

So, Little A had her blind eye removed. She seemed to sail through the process. We marveled at her recovery.

---

Then, weeks later, my phone rang.

I am infamous for not answering the phone. My husband’s clients call so frequently with questions that I have no answer to. So, I avoid picking up and getting stuck in a conversation that I really shouldn’t be a part of. This time, it rang, and then I heard my friend’s voice...

She pleaded with me to pick up.

I’ll never forget her voice on the machine and what she told me once I answered.

Diane...she said...Little A... has cancer.

--

Unbeknown to us- Little A’s eye that was removed was sent for a routine biopsy. The result- Retinoblastoma. It is a rare form of eye cancer. There are two types- a genetic form and a non-genetic form. Without Little A’s history- we didn’t know what she was facing. What we quickly did know- bilateral retinoblastoma (both eyes affected) was typical of the genetic form of the disease.

--

Yes, Little A grieved the loss of her foster family in China. But, what we could not have known- she was also withering under the pain of a cancerous eye that pressed and pained her body.

--

It was the beginning of a long road. A road that led us to the next little one that I want to share with you-

A beautiful boy... Little Song.

He is in China still...in an orphanage. He has lost both of his eyes to retinoblastoma. Two years old and now blinded by cancer- but still a survivor. He is now cancer free. Will he find a family? I don’t know. I just don’t know. Is there a family out there who will step forward after all that he has been through?

More soon.

-Diane

In Both Ears...

2010-08-04T21:30:00.000-07:00

Last year we spent time in the Big City and the girls discovered ‘The Mall’. Simultaneously they discovered the store that would pierce your ears ‘for free’.

(Free is a loose term.)

As you know- YD recently celebrated her birthday. What you might not know- she has been asking me for an entire year to celebrate her birthday by piercing her ears.

--
I caved.
--

The photos above are straight out of the camera. Apparently ‘The Mall’ is not equipped with the best lighting for photography. I don’t think there is too much I could do to dress these photos up. Let’s hope their expressions tell the story.

--

I cried. Not weeping...no sobbing...that completely in awe small cry that was filled with joy and tinged with sadness. There were people missing. There were people who loved my daughters before me that weren’t there to celebrate this passage. There were people that loved my daughters with me who would never see these photos.
--
Small but big.
--
YD’s hair is plastered to her head because she had a wild good time at her first McD’s play land. We do have a McD’s but the nearest one with a play land is 2 hours away.

OD had just finished a 5 hour ballet class.

When we were at The Mall (also 2 hours to the nearest mall) OD said to me-

Everyone is walking around like it is no big deal to be here. I can’t help but be like...look at that! Look at that over there! I can’t be casual about all of this stuff.
--
It is going to take me a month to catch up on this one past week. So much more to share.

-Diane

Guest Writing - River, Blood, and Corn

2010-08-01T12:55:00.000-07:00

(a photo from our adoption trip to China for YD)

Goodness gracious- I’m tired.

You know when you run too long on adrenaline? That is where I am at.

I have so much to tell you. It has been an incredible week.

I wish I had a refresh button.

In the meantime...

I was humbled to be asked by the amazing Terra Trevor to guest write for her site -

River, Blood, and Corn

My guest writing parameters-

“...the essay should be about 500 words or less, and it can be on anything you feel drawn to write that would tie into our mission statement of promoting community and strengthening culture.”

To be honest- I struggled with the broadness of theme and the limited word count. I started and stopped a few different pieces after realizing that I would never do them justice in 500 words or less.

In the end- it proved to be a fantastic writing exercise and a cathartic writing journey.

My deepest thanks to Terra.

I would love for you to take a look at the end result...

Voices

-Diane

Birthday Reflections & Trip

2010-07-23T19:27:00.000-07:00

Just sharing some more moments from YD's birthday. As you can see, she took her birthday wish seriously and paused for several moments to reflect.

Tonight she told me that she wished...To always have a happy family.

YD didn't want a cake but requested individual cupcakes. She wanted them airbrushed in rainbow colors and for them to be topped with mini flip-flops. Somehow we were able to make that happen!

---

In a few days we depart for the big city. OD will be studying under a principal ballet dancer for one week. She studied with him last year as well. Her teacher is Russian, trained in Russia- and very tall. I'm tall myself so when I say tall- I mean tall. OD was accepted into his program although she doesn't meet the age requirement. All of the other students will be teenagers. I'm not concerned because OD is happiest when the bar gets raised.

The interesting part..that we discovered last year- The teacher's wife is an adoptee. She was adopted from China at the same age as OD (8 years old). We have kept in contact this past year and we are all excited to connect again. As big as China is- somehow we have also been twice to his wife's birth city. Although she was adopted as an older child she doesn't remember very much -so she is always interested in our impressions of her home town.

The ballet intensive really stretches our budget but I just think it is worth it for my girls to be around such wonderful role models. Hoping it goes well. I will travel alone with the kids for part of the trip due to my husband needing to take care of business matters.

I will take my rusty old laptop but I doubt I will post due to it's snail pace nature.

Wishing you all a wonder filled week.

-Diane

YD's Birthday

2010-07-22T21:58:00.000-07:00

YD is now 7.

There is great truth to the saying- time flies.
--
If you didn’t notice- YD really liked her balloons.

Which is saying a lot because she used to be terrified of balloons. She was terrified of the sound of a balloon popping. Utterly terrified.

This year she requested balloons. She paraded them through the supermarket and was met by many a birthday well wisher. One of the balloons was scrawled across with – Happy Birthday. YD was in total awe of all of the people who seemed to magically know that it was HER birthday. YD proudly told everyone how old she was now -but also added...I miss being a little girl.
--
And OD-

She had a great day too.

Yes, she did.
--
To those of you who wrote to OD both here and privately- I am so humbled by your generosity.

It always feels a little scary to allow my girls to interject here because I don’t know what will happen with the replies. But, so far, that fear has been for naught.

Thank you. Your words- and the depth of spirit in which they were written- truly, totally, and completely resonated with OD.

It was a good day and you were a part of it. Thank you. Thank you so much.

-Diane

Dear Fellow Adoptees- Can you help me?

2010-07-14T17:13:00.000-07:00

painting: Happy Birthday by Patricia Caldwell

(The following letter was written by OD (age 11) who was adopted at almost 8 years old. For three years she has struggled with celebrating her birthday. In China her birthday was not celebrated until the year before her adoption. Today was a tough day as we approach her younger sister’s upcoming birthday. Thanks in advance for anyone willing to share.)

--

Dear Fellow Adoptees,

I have problems enjoying my birthday. I try to enjoy it but I mostly pretend that I am happy. I do that because I think you are supposed to be happy on your birthday. It is also hard to enjoy it because I keep thinking that my birthday was the day that my mommy made the decision to not keep me.

It is getting close to my sister’s birthday. She has an easy time enjoying it. So, her birthday is more fun for her because she is really happy. I’m really jealous of that.

If you have any experience with this problem then I would like to have your advice. I would like your help about how to feel a little more comfortable with my birthday or just to feel I’m not alone in this.

Thanks!!!

-OD