Let's Take a Break...

Last Sunday I took Avi to a birthday party. The party was located at this big indoor playspace, the kind that hosts birthday parties all day long, scheduled back to back. When Avi and I entered the massive, industrial looking building located off of a typical New Jersey highway, we were immediately herded into a small, crowded "party room" which was next to the main play space. We were instructed by one of the employees to remove our shoes, place the gift on a table, and go back out to the playspace. We dutifully did as we were told and once we entered the playspace we spent the next 45 minutes being assaulted both visually and aurally. Visually because of the bright fluorescent lights that eventually gave me a headache, and aurally because of the loud country music blaring from the loudspeakers, in addition to the shouted instructions from the workers, who likely were hourly-paid employees who host children's parties all day long. They impatiently encouraged the children to jump on the trampoline and dive into the foam pit. Avi raced around happily, completely unaware of the fact that he wasn't following the strict party instructions.

After 45 minutes of playing we were herded into the party room, which was basically a cinder block square (similar to a prison cell, I imagine) that was jam-packed with kids, adults, cheap pizza, and balloons. The children ate pizza, sang Happy Birthday, ate a piece of cake, and then the lights began flickering violently. This was our signal to get the hell out because the room was booked for another party in 5 minutes, giving the workers no time at all to clean up and remove all evidence of our party. We jammed our shoes on, ran out the door, jumped in the car, and headed back home down the scenic strip mall highway.

What ever happened to kids' parties that take place at someone's house, not some big, overcrowded indoor playspace? Parties where the parents can hang out and drink, and the kids can run around and play whatever they want? At Avi's last birthday party we invited a bunch of friends over. The adults ate snacks and drank wine while the kids ran from room to room, then outside, then back in. Everything felt easy and fun and relaxed. After a few hours most of our friends began to trickle out, the adults tipsy and cheerful, the children hyped up on cake. A few close friends remained. They helped us to pick up cups and then we sat around the dining room table, chatting and drinking more wine. Soon we ordered pizzas and the kids and adults sprawled around the living room, eating pizza off of paper plates. Eventually everyone left, except for Nato, who was in town from San Francisco and was going to sleepover, which made the event even more festive and special. The kids went to sleep and Nghia, Nato, and I stayed up late talking and finishing off the wine.

Now that's a kids' party!

If you are planning your child's next birthday party at an indoor playspace, and your child is friends with either of my children, please do not uninvite my child to the party just because of this post. It is not my children's fault that their mother is opinionated and judgmental. 

 

Eleven

I wrote the last post right after I had gotten home from the meeting with our social worker, when I was feeling particularly vulnerable and emotional. I think people who know me generally think of me as a private person. I dislike talking about myself beyond superficial information and there are many things about my life and my past that might be surprising to the majority of the new people who are in my life. So I have conflicting feelings about writing so publicly about my emotional state as we go through the adoption process. It is generally not comfortable for me to be so transparent.  On the one hand I feel self-conscious and my usual knee-jerk desire to keep everything inside, but on the other hand there's something really wonderful about having a place to put my thoughts and feelings. There's something freeing about getting everything out in the open, about sharing the personal details of all this.  The people who read my words have been so nice and supportive to me, and that's a really incredible thing. I have gotten emails from strangers, people who have also adopted who just wanted to say hi and that they are thinking of us. That's really beyond incredible. The other day Kit told me that people want to read about all of the behind the scenes information--the worry, anxiety, and fear that one might face when they are adopting a baby. She said that's the part that nobody talks about and everybody wonders about. I was going on and on with my insecure ramblings, my worry about saying too much or appearing too self-serving and egotistical.  Kit said I should keep writing, and since we have been the closest of friends for the past 31 years, I tend to trust her judgment and wisdom. Nobody knows me like she does.

And it's now been nearly a week since that meeting and as it generally happens, with time comes clarity. I'm still worried about all of the possible bumps we could face, but right now I'm also a bit more aware of the ultimate truth, which is that this WILL end with our baby in our home permanently. And when that happens I know that Nghia and I will look back on the journey and we will know without a doubt that it was worth it. We really may go through a bit of agony to get there, but how could it not be worth it in the end? I'd literally walk through fire for Khai and Avi, so it makes sense that I would do the same for the next little one. Hopefully we won't have to walk through any fires, but if we do we can handle it together. Sometimes it's just what you have to do. If there's one thing I want to instill in my children, it's that they are capable of getting through hard times. Life is not always easy. Sometimes it's horrifically difficult, in fact. But it is amazing what people can get through.

Our neighbors up the street have a child who was adopted. Their son is 10 now and a very sweet, smart kid. Recently I was talking with one of the dads about their adoption process and he shared with me that years back they lost custody of a child who had been in their home for 6 months. After six months, before the adoption was finalized, a relative appeared, fought for custody and won. (This was through the foster care system, which is very different than adopting through an agency, like we're doing. In other words, this couldn't happen to us.) Here I am, terrified of losing a baby after one month and they lost one after six months. It's unthinkable. I asked the dad what that was like and his response was really beautiful and inspiring. He told me that it was very sad, that he and his partner cried a lot as they said goodbye to a baby they had loved. He told me they cried for weeks after she was gone and the sadness lingered for a long time. And then he said, "But we knew that we had helped her. We gave her a home when she needed one."

So if the unthinkable happens to us, hopefully we will be able to find comfort in knowing that we helped.

Avi says, "Power to the People!"

Ten

This process is going to have a lot of emotional highs and lows, and tonight feels like a bit of a low.

We had a meeting with our social worker earlier this afternoon. Her name is Kate and she's a very kind, sweet woman, and Nghia and I are both looking forward to working with her. I feel like we are in good hands with her. The purpose of the meeting was for Kate to go through the rest of the adoption process in detail, to answer all of our questions, and to describe all of the possible paths we could go down before we get legal custody of our baby. I guess it's thinking about some of those paths that is making me feel so melancholy tonight.

I've said before that we could fall into the category of adoptive parents that are chosen, the baby is placed, both birth parents terminate their parental rights at the hospital, and we take the baby home. This is the scenario we are desperately hoping for. But there are other possibilities as well...

If the birthmother lives in Pennsylvania then we're going to have a rough road in front of us no matter what. In PA the birthmother cannot relinquish her parental rights for 30 days. (In NJ it's 72 hours.) This means that a baby could get taken from our home because for those 30 days the baby will live at our house. Kate told us that when you're in this situation you sort of have to tell yourself you're just babysitting for the next 30 days. It might be your baby, but it might not be. It might be your child's sibling, but it might not be.  And there's nothing we can do about this. We can't refuse to work with a birthmother from PA.We have to be willing to work with all of the states that our agency works with. At the end of the 30 days we will find out if the baby is ours or not. If it's not, if the birthmother decides she wants to parent after all, then we have to say goodbye. Someone will come to our house and drive away with that baby.  I know myself well enough to know that there's not a goddamn thing I can do to stop myself from loving that baby after taking care of him or her for a month. This possibility literally hurts to think about tonight. And it is a very real possibility.

When we got in the car after the meeting I could tell Nghia was feeling as overwhelmed as I was. He asked me what I thought and I said that I'm worried and scared. I'm worried about a baby being taken from our home, I'm worried I will get attached to the baby, I'm scared to lose a baby that I love.  I asked Nghia how he felt about the meeting and he said that it seems like we're choosing to go through an awful lot of hardship to get this baby. Why would we choose to do this? I can see why people who are desperate to become parents, people who don't have any other possibilities, would have no choice but to go down this scary road. But we do have a choice. We do not have to do this.

We were quiet for a long time, each of us lost in our own little worlds of fear and sadness. After a while I said, "I still want to do it."  And Nghia said, "So do I."

Nine

So many people have asked me what is going on with the adoption because they haven't seen a blog post in a while. And my first thought was, "Wow, I can't believe people are actually reading this thing." 

Right now there's not a whole lot to tell in terms of the adoption. So much of this process is just waiting. In two weeks we will have a meeting with the social worker that has been assigned to our case. We will drive down to the agency in Cherry Hill, NJ and I believe our meeting will just be about answering our questions and finding out what we're supposed to do next. Several people have told me that they've heard that adopting a baby is a very complicated process. And while I can't speak for international adoption or adopting through the foster care system, I can definitely say that adopting domestically through an agency actually isn't all that complicated. It's a lot of work, it takes a long time, and it's expensive, but it's not all that complicated. The agency we're working with is so great because they really guide you through every step. They tell you what to do, you do it, then you wait, then they tell you what to do next. So it's time consuming, but it's relatively straight forward.

Khai has a new friend at school who is adopted. We'll call him Alex, which is not his name.  This afternoon I was chatting with Alex's mom while the boys played. Early on in the conversation we figured out that we both lived in Austin years back. She told me that Alex was born in Austin. Alex heard this and turned to me and asked, "Where was Khai born?" I told him that Khai was born in the bedroom of our house in Maplewood. Alex then said, "But where did he come from?" I immediately knew what he was asking and I said, "He grew in my belly." Alex's mom jumped in and said, "Sam is Khai's birth mom." Alex said, "Oh," and went back to playing.

This exchange was really good for me to see. I liked having a 5-year old boy ask me where my son came from, as though that's a typical question to ask. I liked how clearly and easily his mom said that I am Khai's birth mom. And I loved seeing a young boy who knows he is adopted and feels comfortable talking about it so openly. Alex's parents have obviously done a lot to normalize his experience, and it shows. That's definitely how I want to do it.

I told Alex's mom that we are in the process of adopting a baby and she told me that there is a huge group of trans-racial adoptive families around here. She told me it's a wide community and she'd be happy to introduce me to people. I told her that right now I need to focus on actually getting the baby, but once he or she is here I can't wait to be a part of that group. I had no idea it was here.

So that's it for now. We're in one of the many waiting periods we will go through. I'm anxious to get going because I generally don't like waiting, but I need to find peace with it because until our baby arrives, we're going to be doing a lot of it.

Eight

When you're pregnant you are almost always thinking about how you're having a baby. Your new baby is constantly on your mind and numerous times each day you think about what life will be like when your new baby arrives. It makes sense that this would be true because when you're pregnant your baby is literally a part of your body. It moves and you are reminded that there is a life growing inside you, that your baby is on it's way to you.  Towards the end of the pregnancy you're mostly thinking about how uncomfortable you are and how ready you are to see your baby, but there continues to be a rush of excitement and anticipation every time you think about your baby's arrival.

Over the last several years when I thought about how one day Nghia and I would adopt a child, I never had any doubt that I would love that child with the same intensity that I feel towards Khai and Avi. I have never doubted that I will be as deeply connected to this baby as I am to them. I know with absolute certainty that parents love their adopted and biological children with the same magnitude and the same fierce dedication. This has always been clear to me and I can easily picture it for myself.  So when our baby is finally here and I am overwhelmed with emotion, I will not be surprised. There will be a million other surprises of course, but the profound level of love I will feel towards our baby is not going to surprise me. I am expecting to be hit with that wave of emotion and that primal instinct to nurture and protect.

What I was not expecting was for this period of time to feel so emotionally similar to a pregnancy. I didn't know that simply filling out paperwork, attending meetings and classes, and waiting for the phone to ring would bring up the same thoughts and feelings that one has when they are pregnant. The anticipation and excitement are the same. They are honestly exactly the same. Constantly thinking about the baby is the same. Imagining what life will be like once the baby is born is the same.

 All day long I think about our baby. When I get in bed every night with my book, I think about how one of these days there will be a tiny baby curled up in bed next to me. Some nights it almost feels like something is missing. In my classroom we have a poster board with family pictures hanging on one wall. The children in my class like to look at their families and their classmates' families throughout the day. My co-teacher and I put our family pictures on the poster board too. And every time I pass by it and glance at the sweet picture of me, Nghia, Khai, and Avi I think about how beautiful that picture is going to be next year. How much fuller it will be, how much more complete it will be. It's such an interesting feeling to know your family isn't complete yet, to know that someone is missing.

Because I have done both I feel that I can say with absolute certainty that, although the process is dramatically different, the feelings of excitement, anticipation, longing, and expectancy are exactly the same. Who knew?

Seven

In the car a few days ago Khai began asking new questions about the adoption. This is generally what happens when children are trying to understand a very complicated issue. If the adult presents the initial information in a clear, simple way with absolutely no judgment and without too much additional information, then the child can process it all at his or her own rate. When they are ready for more information, they will make that clear, usually by bringing the subject up. With Khai, these kinds of conversations often happen in the car. Something about that space makes him feel safe and relaxed enough to bring up things he's been thinking about.

So we were in the car and pretty much out of the blue Khai asked, "Why will our new baby grow in someone else's belly? Why won't it grow in your belly?" Now, other than knowing that babies grow in mommy's bellies, Khai knows nothing about the birds and the bees. It would be highly inappropriate and confusing for me to talk about unplanned pregnancies or that sometimes a mommy decides she doesn't have the resources to take care of her baby. I know these conversations will happen with Khai and Avi when they are older, but my challenge now is trying to put this very adult issue into age-appropriate, non-judgmental language.

Presenting information without judgment is extremely challenging. For example, I could have easily told Khai, "We are going to give a home and a family to a baby who might not otherwise have one and this is going to make our family so special and amazing." This is obviously how I feel, but it's really important that I give Khai the space to draw his own conclusions. I can't tell him it's special, I need for him to figure that out on his own. Then the feeling is his, not something he's repeating but might not actually feel. It is not my job to tell him how to feel, nor am I the arbiter of what's special.

I tried not to stumble too much with my words when I told Khai, "Well, Daddy and I really wanted to have two babies that would grow in my belly, so we had you and Avi. Then we decided that since we love you and Avi so much, we would like to have another baby, but this time we are choosing a baby that will grow in someone else's belly so that we can give a family to a baby that might not otherwise have one." Then I waited, worrying that I had said too much or not been clear enough.

Khai's response?

"We will be that baby's family."

Six

Although Nghia and I were in immediate agreement that we would like to adopt an African American baby, it is not a decision we have taken lightly.When I think about having a black child, I feel such a wide mix of emotions. As I have previously stated, it feels right. But it also feels scary and exciting and overwhelming.

Like just about every other mother on the planet, I want my children to be treated well. I am filled with fury when I think of the adults that teased Khai for wearing nail polish or the neighbor that once hurt Avi's feelings. I want to protect them from physical harm, and I want to protect them from any and all emotional hurts. I realize this is unrealistic and that part of cultivating confidence in children is teaching them how to mentally and emotionally respond to assholes. It's an important skill to learn.  But let's be honest, this is going to be a lot more challenging when the child I am trying to shield is going to have moments in his or her life where they are treated unfairly simply because of their race. This already pains me to think of, but I would be naive to think it's not going to happen. And like all issues surrounding race, privilege, and power I think it's important to talk about.

Recently the Oscar-winning actor, Forest Whitaker was accused of shoplifting at a market on the upper west side in Manhattan. This market is across the street from where I went to graduate school. It has delicious sandwiches and salads, and during the 3 years I was in school I probably ate there at least once a week. A couple of weeks ago Forest Whitaker stopped by the shop to buy a yogurt while he was in New York filming a movie. While he shopped, he was approached by a worker who accused him of shoplifting and then proceeded to frisk him, looking for the lifted item. Bystanders saw and began speaking up, defending Forest Whitaker and explaining to the worker who he is.  Long story short, the store manager apologized, the worker was fired, and Forest Whitaker was vindicated, as well as humiliated. When this story hit the press, many locals spoke up and said they often see black people being wrongly accused and frisked at this market. So while what happened to Forest Whitaker is appalling and inexcusable, it is far more devastating to think of all the other people this has happened to there. People who don't have the prestige of Forest Whitaker, who can't take their experience to the press and get wide support from the community. People who have no power when they are falsely accused and treated like a criminal.  Those individuals can only leave the store, mortified and filled with a rage I can't begin to fathom. (For the record, the shop is Milano Market on Broadway and 112th and I will never set foot inside their store again.)

Sometimes I think about a video I recently saw of LeVar Burton explaining how he taught his sons to respond if they ever get pulled over. He told his boys to immediately put their hands on the windowsill of the car, so the cop doesn't pull out his gun, thinking the kid is a threat.  This is a conversation that white people don't have to have with their children. We tell our kids to be polite to cops, not to keep their hands visible so they don't mistakenly get shot.

I think of  a close friend of mine who once told me that when she gets pulled over she tries to talk "extra white." She says that helps, unless the cop is black, and then it backfires. It's so much to think about, so much to keep track of, and none of it is fair or makes sense.

Knowing how difficult it can be to be a black person in our society, I wonder if I, as a white person, can adequately raise a child who will have such a different experience in the world. Not just will I do a good job, but can I prepare him or her well enough?

I wonder if it will help that we're already a mixed-race family. Nghia obviously doesn't know what it's like to be black, but he does know what it's like to be the only one. He knows what it feels like to be teased and bullied solely because he is of a different race. If, god forbid, our child ever experiences racism personally, Nghia will be able to identify. He will be able to recall what it felt like to be the only minority in a completely white neighborhood, and how alone and isolating that could sometimes be. And he will be able to tell our kid, in a way that I will not, that yes, it feels terrible, but it does not have to define you. We cannot let it define you.

I wonder if it will also help that we live in such a diverse area. Our neighborhood is not only racially and ethnically integrated, but we all go one step further and actually hang out with each other. We do more than simply live side-by-side. Our child will never be the only black kid in the class, on the street, in the neighborhood, at the birthday party.

Perhaps growing up in such a racially-mixed town, where there are so many different kinds of families, will give our child a foundation of self-worth and confidence that will be an asset when it comes time to handle the rest of the world.

We joined our neighbors and marched in solidarity.