Twelve

I've mentioned Khai's new best friend at school and I called him Alex, which is not actually his name. Now I want to change the name because Nghia's brother's name is Alex and I'm not sure why I chose it for the friend's alias, other than the fact that it's a name I really, really like. Anyway, now Khai's best friend is named Simon.

Khai and Simon have become quite close this year. They argue and fight, but they also have a blast and really like spending all their time together at school. The other day in the car I asked Khai if he knew that Simon is adopted. Khai said, "Yes, I knew that and I also know what a birthmom is." I was happy to hear this because it told me that Khai and Simon have obviously talked about Simon's being adopted. Khai has never heard the word birthmom from me.  I asked Khai to tell me what a birthmom is and it turned out he didn't actually know, but he knew the word because he heard Simon talking about it. I explained to Khai what a birthmom is and to give an example he's extremely familiar with I said, "Like your cousins. They didn't grow in Aunt Daph's belly so Aunt Daph isn't their birthmom." Khai was indignant, "But Aunt Daph is their mom!" And I said yes, Aunt Daph is certainly their mom. A birthmom is different from a mom. Khai sort of said it perfectly.

I then asked Khai if he thinks Simon and his mom look alike. (Simon is black and his mom is white.) I'm trying to find opportunities to talk about race and how our baby is going to be a different race from any of us, but I want these conversations to be somewhat organic and led by Khai. I can ask him probing questions and hope he'll go in the direction I'm hoping for so we can have a discussion about it, but if he doesn't then I can't micromanage the conversation. (Well, of course I could, but the content of the conversation would be far less meaningful to Khai. It's better to create circumstances in which he can draw his own conclusions.) In the teaching world we say that you can show a child where to look, but you shouldn't tell her what to see.

So anyway, I asked Khai if he thinks Simon and his mom look alike, hoping we could start a nice conversation about how sometimes children are a different race from their parents. Khai immediately said no, Simon and him mom definitely don't look alike. I got excited about the direction it seemed like the conversation was going to take, but I forced myself to remain casual as I asked him what's different.  Khai said, "Simon has short hair and his mom has long hair." I tried not to laugh as I agreed that yes, that certainly is a difference between them. I waited for a few minutes, in an attempt to give Khai space to extend his thinking, trying so hard not to lead him to the place where I wanted him to go. After a minute or so of silence I asked, " Are there any other differences between Simon and his mom." And Khai said, "Yes, today they were wearing different shirts."

The thing is, of course Khai sees that Simon and his mom are different races. Research about racial identity tells us that children become aware of racial differences shortly after they become aware of gender differences, which happens at a very young age, usually around 2.5 years.  So Khai knows that Simon has dark skin and his mom has light skin, but that's not the most salient difference between them, in Khai's mind. The fact that the length of their hair is different is far more interesting to talk about.

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."