Second to None

Last weekend, Aidan and I watched "First Position". If you aren't familiar with this film, it is an amazing documentary following six dancers as they train for and compete in the Grand Prix, widely considered one of the world's most prestigious ballet competitions. One of the six youth is Michaela DePrince, who was adopted from Sierra Leone by white parents. Michaela's mother discusses how she has to change all the "flesh" colored portions of Michaela's costumes because that is only some people's actual flesh color. She continues to discuss how other dance moms have told her that she is wasting her time because blacks never become ballerinas. She aptly comments, "I don't know if they don't think I love Michaela as much a they do their child because she is adopted or if they are really just that crass." Michaela DePrince is currently a professional ballerina.


Daddy & Baby Airborne Cole Patrick

I am not sure if it is just human instinct, but it is definitely challenging to put yourself in another's shoes if you have not truly walked the journey. For instance, before adopting, I didn't notice "flesh" colored. I didn't notice how many books don't have diverse skin colors, and that cute black dolls are virtually impossible to find. It is fair to say, with my fair-haired, light-skinned children, I was oblivious. Completely.

In the beginning, I was super naïve. I did not protect Brendan's birth story and shared with any one who asked, completely unaware of what I was doing. Our new identity was so sudden I didn't stop to think. I looked at blacks in a whole new way--I must have thought our new son automatically brought me new knowledge. I belonged to a new club, and soon they were going to teach me the secret handshake. No one taught me the secret handshake...I don't even think there is one. About the only thing I did right was realize that yes, I had a new identity. The rest of it I blame on the sheer insanity of being a new adoptive Mom.

Daddy & Little Airborne Bren

I am thankful that I have learned early that it is our family's duty to protect Bren's story. There are people who will use his history to judge him and form preconceived notions him--as much as I am able, I will do all I can to prevent that. Recently, someone said to me, "He probably did that because of his "history'". No. He probably did that because he is a normal, healthy four-year-old boy.

Unfortunately, I don't believe we will ever be able to "hide" from the public the fact that Bren is adopted. We pretty much are a walking advertisement for adoption (and hopefully a positive one). Nonetheless, I am also grateful that we have learned early on the absolute necessity to being his unwavering advocates. I have noticed that there are people who treat Bren as if he is second to our biological children--they probably don't even realize they do it. Like I said earlier, it isn't automatic for us to understand the paths we have not walked. People say things to me about Bren that they would never ever say to me about Aidan or Cole Patrick. Do they think I love him less? I suspect they just don't fully realize.

As Bren grows older or more aware of his differences, we have a responsibility to protect him. Ideally, we will make all the right decisions, and we will surround him with enough love and confidence to outweigh the insensitivities of society. But, realistically, there very well may be a challenging road of figuring it out for all of us, but that just sounds a lot like parenthood! 

As I've said before, I do not believe that God designs children for adoption. I believe God made Bren for his biological parents, but when that didn't work out, we were Plan B. We are not saints; we are not perfect; he is not blessed to have "found" us. Each of us are a blessing to each other. Unlike so many other stories I read on blogs and Facebook, our adoption calling was not exceptional. We did not know from the time that we were 12 years old that we wanted to adopt, and we didn't slide down a rainbow into a barrel full of puppies on our journey to Bren. Like so many others, quite simply, we realized that we had greater capacity for love, and we did something about it. With this said, I blog on our experiences not to rant or to complain or be negative. I pray that I help others to understand a bit more what it is like to walk in these shoes--for all of the adoptive and transracial families out there. Each person makes the difference. When you have the choice to support a family or just look away or worse, judge, I pray you chose to be their friend. I know it sounds cliché, but truly, only by taking the journey together do we learn to respect and understand what makes all of us different.