Adopt a Liberal

Just saw a news report about an organization creating a prayer program, where members were to pray for liberals. Oooookay! Didn't surprise me -- I remember when Pat Robertson asked his followers to pray for the . . . um . . . "retirement" (death, anyone?!) of certain Supreme Court justices.

What did surprise me was the name of this prayer program - Adopt a Liberal! They even have a "waiting child" list of liberals you can adopt. Or you can go into it looking for a match by choosing the "Unknown Liberal (Tomb of, implied). I confess, it made me laugh from the sheer ridiculousness of it. What the heck does praying for someone have to do with adoption?!

I've never been that exercised about "Adopt-a-Whatever" programs, despite my preference that Katherine Heigl not put pictures of her newly-adopted daughter just above an "Adopt A Pet" announcement on her website! I understand why many prefer that there not be this usage, and Dawn Davenport of Creating a Family sums up the arguments well:

I don’t underestimate the power of words. Words both reflect and influence attitudes, and attitudes matter. The argument in the adoption community against
the use of the word “adoption” for highways, rubber ducks, or even pets, is that is lessens the meaning of the word. To adopt a child means forming a lifelong commitment to love, raise, and cherish this child, the same as giving birth to a child. When you adopt a highway or flower bed, there is no life long commitment or even caring, it’s all about money. With the family pet, it’s a bit trickier, but even the most ardent animal lover, like me, feels a different commitment to pets than to children. If one of my children developed an allergy to one of our cats, or if one of our dogs started to bite unprovoked, I would find another home for the pet.

She then goes on to say:

That’s the party line, and it’s true, but there is something about all this that leaves me unsettled. It’s as if our adopted children and the very institution of adoption are so fragile that using the wrong word can cause major confusion or fundamentally undermine self esteem. This simply doesn’t reflect the reality that I see. I asked this question to two adult friends who were adopted, and it isn’t their reality either.

Dawn also offers this conversation with her 13-year-old daughter (you know how much I love conversations!):

Daughter: What’s up with these adopt-a-highway signs? What exactly do they mean?

Me: [Surprised by serendipity and not one to miss an opportunity especially when it drops in my lap, I jumped right in.] Funny that you should ask since I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. How do you feel about them? Do you think they should use that word? How does that make you feel?

Daughter: [Painfully long pause while she looks at me with an expression that could politely be called quizzical, but more likely could be interpreted as “What planet did you come from?”] Huh???

At this point, I feel a bit like the parent in the old sex ed joke. The kid asks where did I come from, and the parent launches into a complete discussion of the mechanics of sex. The kid responds, “I mean was I born in Minneapolis or St. Paul?

Me: Um, what was your question again?

Daughter: Why is that girl’s name on the adopt-a-highway sign? I thought it had to be a business. [A high school student had adopted the section of the highway running by the school, and her name was on the sign.] And what were you talking about?

Me: [After briefly explaining how adopt-a-highway worked, I explained myself.] Some people think that the word “adopt” shouldn’t be used casually like for cleaning up a highway or giving money to a zoo by sponsoring an animal. They think it is offensive to people who are adopted. What do you think?

Daughter: [Clearly intrigued by the question, she pauses to think it through.] Well, until you just mentioned it, I’ve never thought about it. I hear that word all the time, and it doesn’t bother me at all. It just means to take care of the highway, and that doesn’t have anything to do with me. It’s like with our pets. We adopted them, and they are a part of our family.

Me: But I think adopting a pet is different from adopting a child. My commitment to you guys is totally different and much deeper than my commitment to our pets.

Her: Yea, but you love us both. You can love things differently. Like, you love Thai food, but you wouldn’t want to marry it. You can adopt things differently too.

Me: English is a funny language that way. Words can mean so many different things, but I do think we have to be careful with what words we use.

Her: Maybe, but this just seems silly.

What I love about this conversation is that, despite Dawn's feelings about the word usage, she doesn't direct her daughter to feel the same way, and explains objectively the views of others she doesn't necessarily agree with! Perfect "adoption talk!"

What do you think? Would you encourage your child's teacher to change the name of a project from Adopt-a-Zoo Animal to Sponsor-a-Zoo Animal? Do you equate pet adoption and child adoption when talking to your adopted child about your family pet? Have you ever written a letter complaining about that pesky "Adopt-a-Highway" sign? Have you ever spoken to your child about those pesky "Adopt-a-Whatever" programs?

Some "Talking Adoption" Links

When I started this blog, I was STARVING for real-live examples of talking to kids about adoption. I wasn't finding them in books, I wasn't finding them on the internet. Lots of people explained WHY it was important to talk about our children's stories, but there wasn't so much about HOW. So I started blogging about how.

Now I'm finding more people sharing their conversations, more adoptive parents talking about talking about adoption. It's so nice to hear -- a chance to compare what I'm saying to my kids to what others are saying. An opportunity to look for new language, new explanations, new tactics. A window into how other families are engaging with their children of different ages on the hard parts as well as the happy parts of adoption. And even when I'm not learning anything new, it helps to affirm that I'm "doing it right."

I ran across these two conversations -- two in one day! -- something I would have been stunned to find a year ago:

O Solo Mama: The photo that talked to us, on the photo of foster moms from her daughter's orphanage that opened a conversation with a child who isn't often open to talking about adoption.


Our Little Tongginator: Was I Cute?, on dispelling her daughter's concern that her birth parents chose not to parent her because she wasn't cute.

Thanks for sharing, ladies. I'd love to hear from others -- what are you saying to your kids about adoption today?

A Cautionary Tale for Adoptive Parents

The story of a search for identity, about Nisha, adopted as an infant from India, now 26 years old and going back to India to search for her birth mother -- a must-read for adoptive parents and prospective adoptive parents who think the "same-as" narrative works, that all one need do is raise an adoptive child the same as a child born to you.

For adoptive parents who think “culture-keeping/heritage-teaching” isn’t worth the trouble:

“It used to be, regardless of their original culture or their skin colour, this child is truly yours,” says Kate Emery, the senior India programme coordinator for adoption agency MAPS Worldwide. But now, Nisha’s generation, adopted in the 1980s and 1990s, feels this was a mistake. “They need to know their culture,” says Emery.

It’s a thought that never occurred to Nisha’s parents. “I didn’t know any Indian people,” her father says. “And I guess I probably wouldn’t have known how to approach them even if I did. Would I say, ‘You know, my daughter’s Indian. Would you mind if she hangs out with you?’”

Though she didn’t realize it as a child, it bothered Nisha when she grew up and realized she had never been exposed to her own culture. She resented her parents for never trying to teach her about where she came from. The resentment bore down on her and when it was time to pick a college four years ago, she moved miles away from her family in Sacramento to San Diego. When she finally told her parents how she felt two years ago, they were shocked, unaware of how much pain the adoption had caused her.

. . . for adoptive parents who think color-blind works, that race doesn’t matter to their child, that knowing other "brown girls" isn't important:

Nisha, now a petite 26-year-old with a quick smile, was adopted from Goa by an all-white family at the age of six months and raised in “the white part of America”, as her father Randy puts it. The couple never taught Nisha anything about her birth country or culture, though they did retain her name and abided by one request the birth mother had made: never to cut Nisha’s hair. She didn’t cut it until she went to college. Stephanie says she figured “everyone would love each other” and that would be enough for Nisha to adjust to her adopted life in the US.

It wasn’t, though. . . . When she started searching for her own identity, as all young adults do, she struggled more than most. In her adoptive family she saw no answers, no history, not even a common physical appearance. Was she Indian or American? What tied her family together? What did it mean that she looked so different from her mother and sister and father? The questions left Nisha full of doubts about who she is and where she fits into the world around her. And, in her search to find herself, she pushed away the family that has so much to do with who she is.

* * *

When Nisha was 11, her family moved to a new neighbourhood in Sacramento. On her first day at gym, another student, Reena Ray, spotted her from across the room. “I remember seeing this girl,” Ray says, “and she was the darkest, littlest thing in the room, but she was wearing this T-shirt with strawberries on it and matching socks. And then out of her mouth comes the biggest valley girl voice ever.”

Nisha, who still has that distinct Californian accent, says she was instantly attracted to Ray—another small, dark-skinned girl. . . . Ray’s elder sister, Sharmila, became close to Nisha as well. The girls formed a multicultural group of friends. And suddenly, Nisha’s family — her mother, father and sister — felt left out and different. Randa [Nisha’s sister, biological child of her adoptive parents] says Nisha created her own family. She kept waiting for Nisha to come back to their family, but Nisha never did.

. . . for adoptive parents who don’t want to talk about birth family, who believe their children don’t think about birth family:

But Nisha still feels alone; missing a mother she could only imagine all her life, from bits she picked up from her parents’ stories. One particular thing Nisha clings to, a reason she thinks her birth mother would want to be found, is a letter that arrived at the Grayson home on Nisha’s first birthday. “My darling Nisha baby, I will always love you,” it began.

“From time to time over the years, I would find the card around the house, and I would know Nisha had been looking at it,” says Stephanie, who speaks with the wrenching love of a mother who can no longer protect her child from pain. She also speaks with the pain of knowing that no matter how good the intention, she caused some of that hurt. She tells me that Nisha’s birth mother lived at the orphanage before the birth and stayed with Nisha for some time after she was born.

When I ask Nisha about this story over coffee a few days later, she starts crying. “I never knew that!” she says. “Just the thought that she stayed, that she did really care for me, that it was hard for her, means a lot. I know she wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t have to, which is why I don’t hate her for it. But to think that she stayed. . . .”

* * *

She has got her mother’s name tattooed across her hip. “I want it to be a homage,” she says. And, perhaps, in a way, it’s a recognition that even if she never does find her birth mother, she can still answer the question of who she is herself.

Click here to read the whole thing.

This is in no way an indictment of Nisha's parents, who didn't have the advantage we do now of having heard from adult international/transracial adoptees about how these missing things affected them. We have no excuses.

Nor am I suggesting that if we only "do the right things" our children won't feel loss, grief, pain, that our children won't distance themselves from us in their search for identity, that we have somehow "failed" if our children search for birth family. I'm only suggesting that as adoptive parents we can help or we can hinder when our children search for identity, deal with adoption loss, grief, and pain, look for connections to birth family and birth culture/heritage. It is their search, their journey. But we shouldn't be the road blocks.

Take Out?!

I was looking around at a Q&A website for moms, Mamapedia, and came across a question asking if, when and how to tell a child she's adopted. Naturally, I was interested, and looked at the suggestions in the comments. One comment was from an adoptive mom, and she included this:

BTW, my first two sons are biologically mine. I like to say that we made the first two from scratch and did take out on the third!

I have to say, most of these jokes about adopted children should really be avoided. Yes, I know, most parents don't mean anything by it, they're just trying to be funny. And sometimes APs feel that it's OK for them to joke about it, but bad when anyone else does it.

Like the jokes that might work for biological kids being raised by their biological parents, but don't work for adopted kids. Have you ever had someone say admiringly of your adopted child, "She's a keeper?" Umm, actually, she's wasn't a "keeper" for her birth family. And maybe she worries that she's not a keeper for THIS family, too. So maybe that's not so funny, either.

I don't think anyone would ever call me humorless, and I am capable of joking about ANYTHING, even things I shouldn't joke about (ask my Criminal Law students!). But jokes, quips, one-liners about adoption leave me cold. The authors of The Psychology of Adoption seem to agree with me:

In our family, adoption was a joke. We older cousins would tease the younger ones by pretending to let slip the fact that they were adopted. In reality, no one was; it was simply a way of saying, “You’re different; you’ll never fit in.” We inherited the joke from our mothers, who have been recycling it on their baby sister for nearly 60 years. Since I have come to know adoptive families, the humor has been lost on me.

The home-made v. take-out quip is also a way to say "you're different." And here we're not talking to a child who isn't really adopted, but to one who IS.

I think it's part of human nature that once we recognize difference, we need to figure out what that difference means, and that means ranking it. Is being home-made better? Or is take-out better? Do you think that child is wondering?

And click here to read one adult adoptee's reaction to jokes about adoption.

Mark Your Calendars!

The Center for Adoption Support and Education (C.A.S.E.) is offering an online workshop on talking to children about adoption on September 24:

Join Ellen Singer, LCSW-C for this one-hour session that teaches parents what children understand and think about adoption - and about being adopted - as
they grow and develop. Learn how to share your child's adoption story and how to
encourage them to comfortably share their questions, thoughts and feelings with you.

Watch and listen! New toll-free dial-in/online format enables parents to ask questions and address personal concerns before and during the workshop. Includes electronic handouts, pre-event Q&A survey and discount coupons for valuable publications, like W.I.S.E. Up!

Online Registration is now open!
Talking to Children about Adoption
Thursday, September 24,2009
9:00p.m - 10:00p.m. (Eastern time)
Fee: $20

Adopting Teens

A very touching letter to older kids being adopted, from a girl adopted at age 13 from China:

My name is Honour Grace. I came from China in August 2008, when I was almost 14 years old. I would like to tell you my story because I heard you might too be adopted by a foreign family soon.

When I got adopted, my Momshowed me a beautiful song called "She's a Butterfly." A few times when I lived in China, I felt like a butterfly but most times I felt like I was in a cocoon. In America, I always feel like a butterfly. Now I can feel my true colors, who I am, what I like, what I can do, where I can go. I can feel my heart.

* * *

I also like to stay up late talking with Mom and Dad. They want to know everything about my life. They ask me many questions about my life in China. It makes me happy to share because they really care about me, and it helps them understand my heart more. I like it because they know that my new life in America was not the start of my life. They respect the life I had when I was in China though my problems there make their hearts hurt. They wanted to look at every picture I had — when I was ready to share with them. They wanted to know all about my friends. I liked that they let me burst out of the cocoon in my time.

* * *

The best thing is when you are sad, there are people who will help you and listen to you and hug you. You don't have to ever be sad by yourself. The orphanage people can help you grow, go to school, get food, but they cannot stay with you forever. Maybe the auntie will get married or retire. Someday you have to leave the orphanage by yourself. Maybe you will be all alone then. But having a real family of your very own is always better than staying in the orphanage. You will never be alone then. A family is a treasure, take good care of the gift. If you open up your heart, it will be easy.

Talking to Someone Else's Kid About Adoption

Since the "Are they orphans?" episode, I've thought of other times I've used the "deflect and educate" strategy. I use it with adults a LOT, but also with kids other than my own (it doesn't seem to work as well with my kids -- and I'm not usually trying to deflect with them).

I think part of why I deflect with other kids is that I'm always a little leery about talking to someone else's kids about adoption. Sometimes other parents don't want their kids to hear my views about adoption -- or anything else, for that matter! (There's a little girl who won't be waiting for late parents to pick her up after ballet anymore, I'm sure, since her dad walked in on my addressing her statement that "Obama is BAD because he called a lady a pig." I was explaining the whole "lipstick on a pig" thing. I'm pretty sure they'll be timely from now on, for fear of what "the crazy Obama lady" will be telling their child! (I promise, I did not raise the issue with the child -- I was talking election stuff with another parent when she interjected her comment!). So I talk adoption or China or race with someone else's kid ONLY when that kid raises it. I never do it on my own, though sometimes I have to say something on the topic to Zoe or Maya within the hearing of other kids!

I've never had a parent say anything to me about what I've said to their children, though I have had parents call me about what Zoe has said! The time, for example, that Zoe took pictures of our trip to China to get Maya to Kindergarten -- we had talked about what she was going to say, marked ONLY the touristy pictures in the album, and then she told the whole class about Maya's foster parents, defining foster parents, and saying that they were not her birth parents, and defining birth parent for them! The teacher said the kids were mesmerized! I can't even imagine all the conversations at the dinner table that night, but I know of a few of them, because the parents called me. Sigh. And then the time on a play date when Zoe told her friend all about being left in a box and the one child policy and social preference for boys. I got a call from the mom that night -- she was OK with it, but her husband was pissed that his daughter got such a taste of the real world.

So where are the lines on talking to someone else's kids about adoption? Are there any?

"Are they orphans?"

This evening at the hotel pool, Zoe and Maya were playing with a new friend, a little girl named Savannah, age 7. I was coordinating the jumping-into-the-pool game, and at one time had six kids cannon-balling into the pool at the same time!

Eventually Savannah asked, "Are you their mother," asking about Zoe and Maya -- maybe she thought I was the activity director! I said yes, and prepared myself for the usual question, and it came: "Why is their skin brown and yours isn't?" I answered, "We don't look alike because I adopted them. Zoe and Maya are originally from China." Short and sweet.

"Ohhh," says Savannah, "are they orphans?" I replied, "No, an orphan is someone who doesn't have a parent. I'm their mom, so they're not orphans." I thought myself pretty clever, focusing on the usage of present tense to squirm out of that one. But Savannah was too clever to be fooled by that one!

"But they WERE orphans, right?"

This is actually kind of tricky. They certainly were orphans as defined by the U.S. Government for purposes of visa issuance as adoptees; they were orphans based on the "disappearance of, abandonment or desertion by" parents. That bears no relation, though, to common usage or dictionary definitions of "orphan," someone whose parents are dead. My kids' birth parents may be dead, we have no way of knowing, but it really isn't likely that they are. And "orphan" has so much baggage (Orphan Annie, anyone? or how about that awful Orphan movie in theaters now?) that I didn't want to answer yes. So how to answer?

I decided to deflect and educate. I said, "It sounds like you know what adoption is," continuing in that confiding tone that suggests we both know! "It's when first parents can't take care of their child the way parents want to, so they make a plan for other parents to be found to adopt the child, and then the adoptive parents and the child are a family forever." Savannah nodded . . . and went off to jump in the pool again!

I don't know if I did any good, but I really wanted to remove the word "orphan" from her vocabulary. Maya and Zoe weren't very close when we were discussing it, but I wasn't sure how much they could hear. Still, I fell back on my usual tactic -- answering the way I'd want my kids to hear it. I just told Savannah the same thing I tell Zoe and Maya, or at least the short and sweet version!

How would you have handled it? Comments, please!

Summer Re-Runs: The adoption story

We're nearing the blog's one-year anniversary, and I'm feeling a little nostalgic. I thought I'd re-run some early posts while we're on vacation! If you come here looking for more than pretty pictures, I hope this will satisfy your appetite! And if you're new to the blog, it'll give you an idea of where we started.

The adoption story, August 15, 2008

The adoption story we tell always starts like this: "You grew like a flower in your birthmother's tummy until it was time to be born. Your birthparents couldn't take care of you, so . . . . " (I can't take credit for the "you grew like a flower" line -- it comes from one of our favorite books,
Over the Moon, by Karen Katz. I love to use stories to discuss "issues" with my kids!).

Well, for the first time, in June, Zoe asked WHY -- "WHY couldn't my birth parents take care of me?"

Like most of these things, the question came out of the blue -- we had just come home from somewhere, and Zoe and Maya had immediately fallen to the floor of the family room to play "Warriors," a game involving a cadre of knights and Polly Pockets standing in for the princesses. I followed into the family room a bit more slowly, and Zoe looked up at me and asked the WHY question.

I admit, I was surprised. We talk about her birthparents fairly often, she is sad that we don't know who they are, but she's accepted the "couldn't take care of you" line for years without question. But I guess it was about time. From what I've read, age 7 is a pretty common age for that big question.

I answered, "Well, sweetie, since we can't ask your birthparents, we really can't know exactly why they weren't able to take care of you the way a parent would want to. We can only make some guesses based on what we know about China. Do you want to look at your lifebook, and talk about what some of the reasons might be?"

(I'm a HUGE proponent of lifebooks -- more about them later, but look at Beth O'Malley's site for the BEST info about lifebooks.)

Zoe said yes, so we pulled out her lifebook and talked about China's one child policy and the social preference for boys. Zoe didn't have much reaction, but I knew we were no where near finished talking about this!

"Adoption is Painful"

Food for thought from Lorraine at Birth Mother/First Mother Forum:

And most of all, this is for the young teen who left a comment recently at Birth Mother/First Mother Forum. She said she was crying inside because she doesn't know who she is. "I want to know if I have my dad's eyes and my mother's nose," she wrote. "Can anyone help me to start to search? My parents can't--actually won't...."

Breaks your heart, doesn't it?

She asked us to keep this confidential--but I think she thought we could reach her by email. We have no way to reach her because when someone posts a comment, we can not respond to her or him because we do not have access to his or her email address. So I'll leave her name off here, and no one will ever connect it to the young writer, whom I hope has come back to find this. We are thinking about you and we send you all the love we can through the air. And we wish from the bottom of our hearts that we could reach across the nether and somehow find your first mother for you.

But what can we say to stop the hurt, what can we realistically do to fix the problem? Though we have the power of the word and the communication offered by the Internet, we can't go in and shake up those adoptive parents, like we would like to, and tell them how much their daughter is in pain, and how much they could help by simply opening up the conversation.

Infertility and Adoption Talk

A friend sent me the link to a May 2008 post at Anti-Adoption blog. The post discussed a comment from a blog reader who said, in part, "many, many infertile couples have NO desire at all to adopt. For us, adoption would only be a VERY LAST RESORT." (It's unclear whether the commenter is speaking as an adoptive parent).

Many adoptive parents commented most ably to say this person did not speak for them. What interested me the most, though, were the comments from adoptees who felt as they were growing up that they were their parents' "last resort" or "second choice:"

What adoptees know, what we grow up knowing deep in our hearts, the painful truth in that we ARE THE SECOND CHOICE. No matter how loved and cherished and valued we are in our adoptive homes, we weren’t the number one option…we were the consolation after fertility failed, after plan A fell through, after other options went bust.

It can be really hard for some adoptees to forget that for many of us, we were not our (adoptive) parents’ first choice. Because ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD can’t change the facts of how and why I came into my current family… and despite all the love in the world, there are still many days when I can’t help but feel like one big consolation prize.

I WAS second best. I WAS the last resort. I wouldn’t have come to them had their fertility treatments worked, had they been sucessful at having children of their own. As much as my amother tells me that she loves me, and has embraced me for my differences, as much as I love her, this isn’t something that love heals. This is my reality.

Infertility was not an issue for me; I adopted because I was single. I considered donor insemination for a short time, but really didn't think passing on my genetic blueprint would be doing the world or the child any favors! So we have the why-don't-I-have-a-daddy issue instead of the infertility issue.

I'm not looking to be inflammatory, or to suggest that adoption after infertility is in fact a "last resort" or "second best," or that any adoptive parent feels that way. But I've read enough to know that some adult adoptees feel that way. So, in the tradition of "Adoption Talk," I'd like some help from those who have discussed these issues with your kids. For those who did come to adoption after infertility, do you talk about it with your kids? How do you talk about it? At what age has your child asked questions about this? If you haven't talked about it, have you thought about how you will explain it? Please post in the comments, to build a reservoir of advice for those following in your shoes!

Lists. . .

. . . from the various conference presentations. I'm a good student -- I always copy down lists. When the teacher says, "There are THREE things . . . " I know to start scribbling!

I'm too tired to flesh out the lists -- maybe later! Or maybe you can have fun fleshing it out yourself by imagining what each item means. Ok, that's a pretty lame parlor game, and I suspect you'd like to hear some whys and wherefores, so I'll definitely work on it later!

The Seven Core Issues in Adoption-- for adoptees, adoptive parents and birth parents alike.
by Sharon Roszia

1. Loss
2. Rejection
3. Guilt/Shame
4. Grief
5. Identity
6. Intimacy & Relationships
7. Control

The 4 As
by Nancy Verrier

1. awareness (be aware of your adoption issues)
2. acknowledgment (acknowledge your adoption issues)
3. authenticity (seek your authentic self)
4. accountability (be accountable, be responsible, for your own feelings in relationships)

Ten Commandments of Telling (hard truths about your child's pre-adoption past)
by Betsy Keefer
(gotta be Roman numerals for this list!)

I. Do not lie.
II. Tell information in an age-appropriate way.
III. Allow the child to be angry without joining in.
IV. Share all information by the time the child is 12.
V. Remember the child knows more than you think.
VI. If information is negative, use a third party professional.
VII. Use positive adoption language.
VIII. Don't impose value judgments.
IX. Initiate conversation about adoption.
X. The child should be in control of his story outside the family.

Three Strikes and It's Closed Adoption
by John Sobraske
(how adoption moved from open to closed over time in history)

Strike 1 -- Cut ties to birth families
Strike 2 -- Secrecy to pass off adopted child as biological child
Strike 3 -- Stigmatize premarital sex

Thoughts on Raising Children From Another Race & Culture
by Margie Perscheid

1. Consider the vantage points.
2. Don't fight reality, face it.
3. Accept the existence of racism and work to end it.
4. "For every excuse (to avoid culture, diversity), there is an equal and opposite action."
5. Be sensitive to the ebb and flow of your child's interest.
6. Forge your own path -- there's no roadmap.
7. Welcome living outside your comfort zone.
8. Make the abstract real: Grab every opportunity to bring your child's community to life in your family and home.

Family Tree Projects

Article from the Boston Globe about the difficulty of family tree projects for adopted kids:

The family tree project, the bring-in-your-baby-pictures assignment, and the mini-autobiography project - all staples of the elementary school curriculum - are well-meaning attempts to get children to consider their family history and life story. But such projects can be emotionally loaded for adopted children and other children of nontraditional families.

* * *
To avoid the complications of a family tree, some adoption advocates who conduct workshops in schools suggest that teachers employ the concept of an orchard instead. During her visit to Pembroke, Clark suggested that teachers try the motif of a house. The child can write names in each room of the house, and then draw paths leading from the house to other people or places special to him or her.

Many teachers are already sensitized to the ramifications of family-tree projects. Rita Cheresnowsky, Ruby's adoptive mother, got a call several years ago from Ruby's second-grade teacher, who was about to assign a family-tree project. "She wanted my input," Cheresnowsky said. "She said, 'This may be something a little difficult and challenging for your child.'
"
Cheresnowsky suggested that the class be given three choices: a river, a garden, or the traditional tree.

Ruby drew a river with tributaries feeding into it. The tributaries included Cheresnowsky as well as Ruby's birth mother, the foster mother who cared for her in Guatemala, her child-care provider, her kindergarten teacher, and Cheresnowsky's parents and brothers.

"A tree is just based on your family and your ancestors and stuff," Ruby said. "But the river shows the people who came into my life. It's a better way of showing your family. You can put more in that river than you could in a tree."

I like Ruby's idea of a family river instead of a family tree! A GREAT children's book about an adoptee struggling with the family tree project at school is Lucy's Family Tree.

The Menstruation Talk Becomes Adoption Talk

Another great conversation from an adoptive mom friend:

This weekend I had the most interesting discussion with my 10-year-old daughter. (The same child who previously informed her younger sister that newborn puppies do NOT come out through the mother's eyeball! See Birth, Adoption, and . . . Yelling?) Though she has known basic facts about reproduction for some time, I haven't gone into detail about how female bodies operate. Given that she's showing signs of approaching puberty, I thought it was about time we had THE TALK. Our conversation turned into a totally unanticipated discussion about birth, heredity, adoption, abandonment, and choice.

I began the talk by explaining how as girls grow up, their bodies become able to have a baby. Her immediate reaction was "I don't want to have a baby!" I continued explaining the facts about a woman's monthly cycle (ovaries, uterus, eggs, blood, etc.) This part did not seem to gross her out her like I thought it would. However, it brought up a lot of other topics including:

Abandonment and adoption in China vs. the U.S. - "If I have a baby I will have to do what my birth parents did" (abandon her). This led to a discussion of that scenario, followed by a discussion of what many birth parents do in the U.S. (make an adoption plan, choose adoptive parents, maintain contact with their child, etc.).

Adopting, giving birth, heredity - "I don't want to have a baby because it will hurt. I want to adopt instead." I suggested that she may change her mind about that and eventually mentioned that she might want to consider it, because it would probably be the only time she would have a relative that looked like her. This led into a discussion about heredity and how many children look like their parents, but not always.

The birds and the bees - "How do you get pregnant?" "How do you avoid having a baby?" I provided basic info about how the sperm and egg get together and a few ideas about how to prevent that from happening. We talked about how when boys get older, they'll want to do that because it feels good and that she can say no. I also suggested that woman can take medicine or do other things to keep the sperm and egg from making a baby. I never mentioned abortion (didn't occur to me, as I was focusing on abstinence and contraception), but it was a very "pro choice" discussion. I told her that if she did not want to have a baby, she didn't have to... that it was HER choice (though I think that God is also involved). It seemed important to say that to her, to alleviate her fears. I am very glad to live in a day and age when I can say that to my daughter!

So, if you haven't had this particular discussion yet, beware that it might turn into much more than a discussion of feminine hygiene. (We did cover that too.) It was a very interesting discussion for both of us and not anything like I imagined it would be! It was also interesting that she approached the subject mostly from the point of view of a (potential) birth parent who does not want to have a child. Other children might take the position of desiring a child someday and vowing to keep it no matter what!

Something else to look forward to -- thanks for the warning! Best to be prepared . . . .

Birth, Adoption, and . . . Yelling?

A friend emailed me this hysterical story, with gracious permission to post it on the blog:

We were driving home last night when I (single mom) overheard my girls (age 5 and 10, adopted from China) discussing how puppies are born:

5-year-old: "I think it comes out the eyeball!"

10-year-old: "No, it doesn't."

Me: "It comes out of the mother's bottom." (Sorry, I know that is not the scientifically correct term!)

5-year-old: "That must hurt!" (As if it wouldn't hurt for a puppy to come out of it's mom's eyeball!)

10-year-old: "Yeah, my friend and I don't want to have babies because we think it will hurt."

Me: "Yeah, it does hurt." (Not that I have any personal experience with such things.)
5-year-old: "How do you keep from having a baby?"

10-year-old: "You don't get married, but if you want to have a baby anyway, you can adopt."

5-year-old: "How do you adopt a baby?"

Me: "You have to go to an adoption agency that will help find a baby to adopt and then you have to prove that you will be a good parent (giving a few examples of the type of evidence that you have to provide) and then you have to promise to take care of the child forever."

5-year-old: "Did you do that?"

Me: "Yes."

5-year-old: "But you do yell at me sometimes."

Me: "Well, they didn't ask me about that." (I really don't yell THAT much!)

5-year-old: (Pauses for a moment.) "Well, they should have!"

This cracked me up so much because it sounds soooooo much like my kids, too! They have decided they are not having children because it hurts. And that means they're not getting married, because that's the only way to keep from getting pregnant!

And, oh yes, the yelling thing struck a nerve! I was telling a friend yesterday that we've reached the dysfunctional point where the kids don't even seem to hear me until I yell, so my New Year's Resolution is to reverse that and yell less. So that friend sent me a link to an article in yesterday's New York Times, entitled Can Yelling at Your Kids Be Good?:

I never lose my temper. I am Zen in the wake of any storm. Sometimes I speak a bit more, um, loudly, than other times, but that’s only because there is background noise and I want to make sure my boys hear my rational and calm explanation that begins with an even-keeled “how many times do I have to tell you…”

If you ever meet them and they start to spin tales about how, once or twice (or whatever) I actually lost my voice from shrieking about the dang clothes left all over the darn floor, well, boys do have active imaginations, now don’t they? And the one about the time Mom threw a full glass of water (the contents, not the actual glass) at one of their heads (she missed, they will tell you) — you don’t have to believe them. (I would never miss.)

You know what to do to read more.

Adoption is Everywhere!

The girls have decided, now that Halloween is over, that it is time for all things Christmas! (We're prepared to ignore Thanksgiving since it doesn't have any good songs!) They're singing Christmas songs, and coming up with their Santa lists. We've pulled out the Christmas videos already, and a few nights ago watched Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

If it's been a while since you've seen it, the movie's premise is to explain the origins of Santa Claus. He's found as a baby on the steps of the Burgermeister's house, with a note asking that some kind soul take care of him. The mean Burgermeister orders his servants to take the baby to an "orphan asylum," but he ends up with a family of elves, the Kringles, instead. The Kringles name him Kris, of course!

Zoe asked at that point, "Did they adopt him?" I did my answer-a-question-with-a-question thiing, and asked, "What do you think?" Zoe decided they had adopted him because "they took care of him and were with him forever." That is a good point in the movie -- the Kringles are with Kris when he's an adult, too. And it's a transracial (trans-species? trans-astral plane?) adoption, since the Kringles are elves, and Kris, towering over them, clearly isn't!

Another interesting point -- the baby is found with a necklace marked "Claus." When he's an adult, Mama Kringle shows it to him when he needs an alias since he's run afoul of the Burgermeister's no-toys law, so he starts to use the name Santa Claus.

Patron Saint of Adopted Children?!

Who knew? There is actually a patron saint of adopted children. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, since there are patron saints for just about everything --cab drivers, abdominal pain, cake makers, motorcyclists, pawnbrokers, etc.

Zoe told me about the patron saint of adopted children at dinner tonight. Her class has begun studying saints, and each student was to select a saint and do a short report about him or her. They read their reports today, and Zoe said one of her classmates read that his saint was the patron saint of adopted children. I asked Zoe what she thought when she heard the report, and she said, "I looked around the room to see if anyone knew I was adopted, and I looked at Mrs. M [her teacher] and she winked at me!" She wasn't at all disturbed by it; in fact, she seemed pretty happy about the whole thing.

She couldn't remember the name of the saint, so out of curiousity I looked online -- it's Saint William of Rochester. And why is he the patron saint of adopted children? Well, the first biography I found had only one reference of any kind to adoption: "He went on pilgrimage to Jerusalem with his adopted son David who murdered him near Rochester, England." Huh? Being murdered by your adopted child makes you the patron saint of adopted children?! A second biography expanded on it, saying that he found a child on the doorstep of the church when he went to Mass, and he adopted him and taught him his trade (baker). The bio goes on to say, "David wilfully misled his benefactor and, with robbery in view, felled him with a blow on the head and cut his throat." Another charming note, the son was known as "David the Foundling."

So what in this story makes William the patron saint of adopted children? William might have been "touched by adoption," as the cliche goes, but "killing blow by adoption" doesn't seem to have the same uplifting spirit! And "benefactor?!" Ah, yes, adoptive parent as generous savior. And the "rescued" child as quintessentially ungrateful.

Makes it pretty clear what his story is supposed to be -- an object lesson in gratitude. There's a real "don't bite the hand that feeds you" vibe here. I don't think we'll be emphasizing him in any way in our household. And I'm happy that the school report didn't share the whole of the story.

Bio Kids and Adopted Kids in the Family

A reader asks me to post her dilemma to the blog in the hopes of getting suggestions and advice:

I have a lovely almost 8 year old girl adopted from China. I have an 8 month old little cutie, biological boy. I have dark hair and eyes, as does my daughter. My son has traits of my father (the grandfather) and my husband - light hair/blue yes. The recurring question is "WOW, he looks JUST LIKE your husband." In front of my daughter, of course. Now, having read numerous books/blogs from adoptees on the insensitivity of others' comments - I give my answer in a relaxed manner as I ponder. Lately it has been in the form of a compliment for my baby boy:

Inquirer: "OH MY GOD! HE LOOKS JUST LIKE YOUR HUSBAND!"

Me: "Yes, he is cute, isn't he?" (But that's not enough info for them.)

Inquirer: "Oh but can't you see it? (voice gets dramatic.) He is a carbon COPY of your husband!"

Me: "Oh, he IS adorable." (puzzled look, as if I don't hear what they are saying. I
can almost see their thoughts clicking that I lost a few neurons in pregnancy....)

Here's another one:

Me: "The guys in our family have blue eyes, the girls in our family have brown eyes."

Here's one I have thought but didn't use:

Me: Turns the other way and has a different conversation with someone else. Problem is, sometimes we aren't in a crowd!

Then I think - get real !! My daughter is much more observant than I. What makes me think that she won't catch on to my own shenanigans in time?

OK, do I just agree? Or do I tell them the truth - his face is a carbon copy of mine, it's just that they only see the coloring of the child? It's neither here nor there to me. We told our extended families before I delivered that we were going to remove the genetic focus from our family. Sure, heredity is a lovely thing and I am not minimizing it. Our daughter came to us from a larger tribe than our own. But, it's the "insensitivity" of others as it relates to genetic conversations. They aren't being mean, and I am sure I was one of those folks before I adopted. So, how do I answer?

I hope we can offer tons of suggestions to help out this mom! And if anyone else has questions you'd like me to post to the readership, I'd be happy to do so.

Poll Results: Fear and Dread

I guess it shouldn't come as any surprise that the majority (13 out of 22 --almost 60%) of poll respondents dread having to answer the "why did my birth parents abandon me" question from our kids. This is the thing that makes adoptive parenting different from *just* parenting, isn't it?

So why do we dread the discussion so much? It reminds us of our children's pain? We're afraid we'll say the wrong thing? It's painful for us to deal with the fact that someone else gave birth to our children? We feel a little twinge of jealousy that we have to share our children with someone else? We worry that we haven't been good enough parents if our children are thinking about their birth parents? All of the above? None of the above?

I think it would be perfectly natural to have any or all of the fears or feelings I listed. Even when we know intellectually that our children don't have to choose between us and birth family, that our children's natural curiousity about their birth families doesn't say ANYTHING about us as parents, it can feel a little threatening. And we know that talking about birth parents can bring pain for our children, especially the first time you get the HARDEST birth parent question -- why did they leave me?

I don't think we can avoid our children's pain -- they WILL have to deal with it, and the best thing we can do to help them deal with the pain of loss is by giving them permission to feel that loss and to talk to us about it. So we, as parents, need to get comfortable talking about birth parents. That's why I'm a big proponent of practicing birth parent talk from the moment you get your child. Don't start "your adoption story" with your child's first meeting you -- start it with birth! If your child is an infant, by the time she/he really understands what you're saying, you'll have had a chance to decide what you're going to call the first family, China family, tummy mommy, birth mother, natural mother, etc., you'll have practiced and decided on how you're going to get the child from birth to orphanage to you in a truthful and age-appropriate way, and you'll have nary a stumble!

And I think it's important that you make birth family comments pretty frequently -- both so that you get the practice, and so your child knows it's ok to talk about them. I like some of the suggestions in Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew:

When you understand the fears and ambivalence your child may have when it comes to discussing his birth family, you will be much more effective in drawing out his hidden thoughts at strategic times. I believe that conversations about the birth family should be initiated at times of pleasure and celebration and at times of stress or vulnerability.

Positive times for initiating might include the following:

The child's birthday. "I wonder if your birth mom/dad are thinking about you."
Mother's Day/Father's Day. "I wonder what your birth mom/dad are doing today."
Child's accomplishments."Your birth parents would be proud of you just like we are." Physical features. "I wonder if your birth mom has curly hair like you."
Spontaneously. Whenever your heart wells with gratitude to the birth family. "I'm so glad they gave you to us!"

Conversations about the birth family might also be initiated during vulnerable times like these:

Physical exam. "It must be hard not knowing your full birth history."
Beginning college."I'll bet your adoption issues make saying good-bye extra difficult." After an acting-out episode."Have you been thinking about your birth family lately?" Family-tree assignments in school. (The adoptee's family tree is very complex and will n ot conform to the usual configuration.) You might say to the child, "With your permission and approval, I will talk to your teacher and ask if you (or we) can make a special family tree that will include both sides of your family."
After the child has been teased by a peer because he's adopted. "I know it's hard to be singled out because of your adoption, but remember we love you and so does your birth family."

The next highest on the dread list is the sex talk. Ahh, how well I remember having "the talk" with Zoe! We were in China, so I didn't have my usual option of finding a book on the topic to use as a springboard for "issues" discussions. But Wendy has recommended It's Not the Stork. Any other suggestions, dear readers?

Yes, I always like to have books on hand for jump-starting important discussions -- I'm such a nerd! So I recently bought Ready, Set, Grow: A What's Happening To My Body Book For Younger Girls. The authors point out that girls are hitting puberty earlier these days, so this book is geared for a slightly younger set than their original Ready, Set, Grow book written twenty years ago -- how's that for a scary thought when your daughter is about to turn 8. We haven't had time to do more than skim the book, but so far it looks good.

It's not like we haven't talked about any of this before -- being an all-girl household with kids who've never accepted the concept of "privacy," we've had LOTS of discussions about breasts and "fur!" When Zoe was little, we showered together, with me holding her, because she'd scream bloody murder if I tried to shower alone. I got really good at doing things one-handed during this period of Zoe's life! I remember putting her down one morning in the shower, and she stood there -- right at "fur" level. And there she goes, poke. . . poke, poke. . . . poke, poke, poke. . . .! And she has long been obsessed with breasts. I remember when we were trying to potty train, and I did the usual, "Don't you want to wear big-girl panties like mama?" And her face lights up, and she says in a yearning voice, 'And a BRA?!!!!" It seems she was only interested in potty-training if she was guaranteed a matching set of lingerie! And she still says she wants "breasts like mama's." I haven't had the heart to break it to her that given our VERY different body types, she's highly unlikely to have breasts "like mama's!" (though she's likely to be very happy about it in the long run -- gavity is NOT kind to us zaftig types!).

And for those dreading the "economy is going to hell in a handbasket" talk, here's an article about popular kid's lit for financial hard times!

Then and Now

Here's Zoe in her little orange and white outfit on October 8, 2001.

And here is Zoe wearing the same outfit TODAY!

This has become part of our family-day tradition -- trying on the same outfit she wore as a baby. I have pictures of it shrinking and shrinking, year by year! Zoe says this is the LAST year she's going to put it on -- we'll see about that! She's so skinny I bet we can get it onto her body for a few more years.

We followed our other family-day traditions as well: we went out for Chinese food, we watched our first-meeting video, we looked at our "Journey to Zoe" scrapbook, and I gave Zoe a little gift from China (on our adoption trip I bought 17 little presents to give her on each anniversary until she is 18 (did the same for Maya!)) -- little cloisonne shoe ornaments.

All of this, of course, followed homework and ballet for both girls. Whew! Didn't take them long to fall asleep today!