Keepin' It Real

I never ever considered myself to be racist. Who does? Are there people who actually admit to being racist?? I suppose there are, but I think more people are like me--they see themselves as completely civil and accepting until the day that is challenged.

We adopted a black male because quite frankly black male children are the hardest to place. Never to shy away from a challenge, during our homestudy we said, "We can do that! Bring it!" When Brendan actually moved in, I was not quite the person I had hoped. I struggled: he looked different, he felt different, he smelled different. It didn't come naturally to me like I thought it would. I worried about crazy stuff. I remember one day only a week or two after he moved in actually thinking: "Is it possible he will kill me one day?" I know you are thinking I am crazy--I beat myself up over it. Why am I so uncomfortable? Would I feel the same if it was a white child we adopted? Is it because he is adopted or because he is black or both? I agonized for a long time.

Now, for clarification, I share all these pretty personal details of my thought-process not because I am an over-sharerer and like to make others feel uncomfortable (I do not. Really.). Rather, I really am hoping to help others, especially those close to us or others going through adoption, to understand our challenges as well as our triumphs.

Of all the things I thought I would experience with adoption, it never really occured to me how much I would have to become an advocate--not just for adoption, but for race relations. All those feelings I didn't expect in the beginning helped me to grow to the person I had thought I was all along, and then some. So, this a.m. I asked Jason, "Do you think I am overly sensitive about race?" Without a beat, he responded, "Yes. Absolutely." Now, I get this--Jason and I have two very different approaches to life in general: I am usually the one planning for college while Jason is pretty content that we just kept all three happy and healthy one more day.

Okay, so, yes, I am overly sensitive, let me ask this question a different way. "I saw this on Facebook yesterday, and it infuriates me, do you think I am justified?"

So, me being me, I comment: Hey, this offensive. Okay, some of these are somewhat amusing and certainly may ring true, but first of all: C'mon, just be nice. Blowing out someone else's candle, doesn't make yours burn brighter, people. More importantly, "white girl with 3+ multi-racial children" is offensive and completely inappropriate. Well, the response I got from a "friend's friend" who doesn't know me from Adam, was that I need to just lighten up, afterall, it will be St. Patrick's Day in a few weeks and we will all tell Irish jokes and no ones going to get bent out of shape about that, and then the kicker: I should learn to take a joke, so all my friends don't end up "unfriending" me.

Okay, first of all, if my choice is between not having a friend and having a friend who makes jokes at the expense of others, then I'm okay without friends (we are all adults here, right, this isn't high school any more...) My being bothered by this post only grew more after such a response from what I do assume is an educated person. Really? There IS a responsibility that comes with social media. This bingo sheet clearly paints multi-racial children/families as a negative. I don't believe I am reading into that in any way. If you perpetuate (aka, "share") that, you most certainly do have responsibility to it.

I do think that I can take a joke: humor is a key component to making it through each day because, believe me, the insensitivity and racism isn't confined to Facebook. When we started our adoption journey, we thought we were being led to give a family to a child. We didn't realize the responsibility we would take on in being an advocate for Bren, multi-racial families, transracial adoptions and pretty much any one who looks different. That, we absolutely do take seriously.

 

Moving On

A unique characteristic of an Army family's life is that every two-three years we prepare for a permanent change of station (commonly used as the verb, PCS). This is when movers pack up all our belongings, we pray that nothing gets lost or broken, we say goodbye to all our friends, and we move to a new location. Many civilians find this absolutely crazy--many in the military, however, actually enjoy it. I am one of those. We have been assigned to five different posts and are currently preparing for a summer PCS. I love the change, the excitement, the challenge. After 14 years of being an Army wife, I only get better at PCSing.

Our Family

Our upcoming PCS holds some different feelings for me. Yes, I am excited--I will, hopefully, be even more excited once we actually know where our orders will take us. I also feel somewhat unsure. You see, this will be Brendan's first PCS. He is a absolute trouper, so I am certain he will handle the move fine. I am more concerned that we are leaving behind his place of birth. I know that I have done this twice before--leaving Aidan's and Cole Patrick's birth towns, but somehow this evokes more complicated feelings.

As I drive Aidan's middle school carpool each morning, I pass Tampa General Hospital, where Bren was born. I know next to nothing about his birth parents. Despite the fact that Bren is our son and part of our family--there are biological ties out there, presumably in this city. Knowing where you come from is significant. I completely expect Bren to one day want to know more about his birth parents--while it may hurt when that day comes, I understand the importance.

I recently read a book where adoption was compared to reading a book with the first chapter ripped out. You really like the book, but it would sure be nice to know what happened in that first chapter. But then again, what if you had the opportunity to read the first chapter, and it completely changed the way you felt about the book? You might end up wishing you hadn't read the first chapter. Tough choices for anyone. Know that very little about adoption is uncomplicated. Think about it...what if you didn't know your medical history, where you came from, where you got your eyes or those adorable dimples (where did Bren get those adorable dimples??) I would imagine it feels a lot like finishing a puzzle only to find that one piece is missing.

I have no doubt that Bren's life in our family will hold more opportunities and love than he would have had with his birth parents. At the same time, even I am really curious about his history as well--more than anything, I would love to just see a picture of his birth parents. Today I googled his parents' names again--it isn't the first time I have done this. I have a few leads, but I am incredibly hesitant to go down any path--it may turn up more than I want to know. I wonder how many other adoptive parents have felt the pull to know more. In the end, I want to be strong and understanding for Bren if or when he needs to grieve the loss of his birth family--I would never underestimate his need to do this at some point.

When we PCS this summer, it will be bittersweet. I think a part of me may grieve leaving his place of origin and most importantly, the place he came to our family. At the same time, I am super excited to start over with him--a new post will be a place where no one ever knew us without him.