Even though I haven't actually written a new post in five months, I have written one in my head dozens of times. The problem is these three children who always want to be fed, taken to school, helped with homework and then, if that isn't enough, driven all over the city for violin, ballet, church, voice, etc. SO needy...! ;-) I wouldn't have it any other way--in fact, I would welcome more of the chaos.
Okay, so this time of year in particular, I play the part of adoption advocate. Albeit I am not great at it because I am STILL waiting for you people to adopt! ;-) We are about to start November, "National Adoption Month," which makes me a bit more outspoken than usual. Today, I was about to comment on a Facebook comment where someone had said, "Maybe we'll adopt one day." I caught myself about to write, "Do it! You won't regret it!" But then I realized, that is a complete lie; there WILL be points where you regret it.
Never one to be anything but honest when it comes to adoption, I would be lying to say there have not been moments when I thought about life before adoption and longed for it. With that said, what about parenthood? If you have not dreamily thought about life before the short people owned your time and absorbed all your energy, chances are, you're a liar. Parenting, whether bio or adoptive children, is NOT all kittens, unicorns and rainbows--in fact it is often blood, sweat and tears. If your experience is more kittens, unicorns and rainbows, you clearly aren't doing it right! ;-)
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Adoption is the HARDEST journey to the GREATEST reward. I am just emerging from the longest first quarter of a school year EVER. Since Kindergarten started in August, I have been Bren's shadow. I am pretty sure that all the faculty at Bren's school secretly call me the Mom Stalker. Bren had a very rough start to Kindergarten--the principal had me on speed dial for the first week and then his wonderful and amazingly supportive teacher and I just decided it would be best if I just stayed: in the back of the classroom, in the hallway, around the corner--anywhere to scare him straight. ;-) Seriously, I hung out every day at school and it worked. It was not fun--I cried most days. His teacher told me yesterday, "There are few parents that would have done what you did for your son." That is unfortunate. I believe in him; I knew he could do this. As a parent, I know one thing for certain: it isn't about me; it is about him.
Bren has had adults fail him. Building trust takes time--this past quarter I spent at school transferring my authority to the teachers so he could see that it was okay. His success in mastering the fundamentals of behavior in Kindergarten was my only priority. Believe me, I thought about pulling him and just homeschooling--it would have been so much easier. However, Jason and I knew that in the long run, he needed to have this success. Academically, he is just like his big sister and brother--super bright, but he needed something I couldn't give him at home: the ability to trust, respect and accept leadership from adults besides us. It was frustrating, heartbreaking and exhausting. At the same time, it was amazing and rewarding. I never had to do this with my bio children--they naturally made the transition to school. Unlike Bren, they went into Kinder with a solid, stable five years under their belts. With them, I took for granted what a huge step Kindergarten really is. It came so easy, I never stopped to even think about it.
There is so much I never had to think about before adoption. Everything fit right into a perfect box--it was all very neat and tidy. Adoption, especially transracial adoption, can open some pretty messy doors. Over the past three years, there have been moments where I have been completely overwhelmed by the things that no longer perfectly fit into my neat and tidy box. I have been angry at the way people sometimes look at my son or me or my family. I have been both shocked and saddened by some people's reactions and stereotypes of adoption, especially foster care adoption. I have been frustrated out of my mind with race issues--and exhausted having my neat world opened to these issues to which previously, I had been completely oblivious. Other times, I have been just unbelievably floored that I had actually lived 40 years and NOT realized the complexity and unfairness of race relations. Beyond adoption and race issues, I took for granted the true necessity and pure power of love and nurturing. I now remind people that not every one is loved from birth. Whoa. No matter what else you have or don't have, if you were loved from birth, you are truly blessed. Bren went almost three years without a family. Three years. Can you imagine? I can't. I can't--I think it would literally break my heart. There are moments when I mourn not having that time with him.
Three years later, I am stronger, deeper, better. We all are. That crazy little man is my son. My son. Not my "adopted son," my son. There are moments I never thought we'd get to this point, but we are here. The path has not been easy, neither is parenting a bio child. There are no guarantees made when it comes to children. Give them time, love and discipline and pray A LOT. I am honest about adoption in hopes that others will choose the same path. There are so many children that just need love and time. This is a path worth taking.
Last night I was sitting in the ballet studio hall reading to Bren when a fellow "dance mom" walked by and said, "I was told you would be a good person to talk to." Okay...not really sure where this is going. "How do you do it?" she asked. "How do you manage Aidan's school and dance and a family?" She continued, "How do you justify all the money spent for training and intensives? How do you revolve your whole family around her? Do you REALLY want her to be a professional dancer?? Isn't she losing her childhood? Wouldn't he [pointing to Bren] rather be playing football with his friends than sitting here every night?" Whoa.
Yes, I spend every night of the week, except Sundays (and sometimes Sundays), in the dance hallway between studios reading to Bren while Aidan and sometimes Cole Patrick dance. This is a choice we made for our family; it is an investment. While Aidan may or may not become a professional, the training she is enjoying is teaching her life lessons of grace, discipline and hard work. She has continually and consistently shown us the passion, determination and work ethic required to follow this dream. She already spends equal amount of time at ballet as she does at school and would welcome more, if it was available. This isn't a childhood we are imposing on her, this is a childhood she wants more than anything in the world. Aidan is blessed with many gifts; I have no doubt that she will do something great, but only God knows what that actually may be.
In the meantime, I see nothing wrong with teaching my boys to support and appreciate their sister. Being selfless, is a virtue that will serve them for a lifetime. I don't look at them as losing something, but gaining. Additionally, they know we support dreams--when they find theirs, we will support them, too. As for reading to Bren, what better gift could I give him? Yes, as a parent who doesn't do electronics for five-year-olds, he quite possibly may be the most read to child in the world! We always have a book bag with us ready to read, but I don't think he is missing out. Between the bonding and the love of reading, I see it as a gift. What actually concerns me is the fact that people continually comment on the fact that I am always seen reading to him. People don't criticize it, they notice it because the fact is, today, you are more likely to see a five-year-old with an iPhone or a DS then being read a book. Even as I write this, I am listening to Bren beside me playing with his castle and all the characters, absorbed in their storyline. What can I say, I like old school; I believe in it--I just don't see technology as a substitute for books and imaginations that have thrived for generations.
At the library this week, I overheard two moms with pre-schoolers complaining that they put computers in the Children's Section. It left them no choice but to allow their children to play the computer games when they come to the library. Not to judge, but really? Who exactly is the parent in your family? I have always firmly believed in boundaries, rules and clear expectations for children, but adopting really drove that point home for me. I think with Aidan and Cole Patrick I was just following my instincts and praying for the best, but when Bren became our son at two, with little to no boundaries, I realized that hey, I may be on to something. Over the past almost three years, we have slowly [and sometimes with much difficulty] watched a brooding, somewhat lost two-year-old become a happy, bright five-year-old. I truly believe that having boundaries and set family rules helped him feel part of something, to be part of our team, included in our family. I am just a parent, certainly not a child psychologist, but I am convinced that children thrive on structure and part of that structure is knowing your parents are in charge.
I left the dance conversation feeling uneasy; I felt sorry for the other mom. I think I had believed that everyone who had children that found their dream was happy with their position. I love seeing Aidan follow her passion; seeing the joy in her eyes when she performs always brings me joy. Though I know it is work for all of us, life is about choices, about sacrifices. Though I realized she wanted me to commiserate with her on how difficult this is, I just don't see it that way. In reality, I walked away filled with the joy of feeling completely blessed.
This morning I was getting ready and Bren was sitting on my bed. "I don't know if I like my ears or my belly button more...I think my ears," he says. Then he asks, "Mom, what does a belly button DO?"
Bren is at a point now that he is quite aware of two things: he did not come from my belly, and he is not the same color as the rest of us. In turn, I am extremely aware that how I portray these two facts will guide his attitude about both being adopted and being black. Honestly, I don't know enough about either, so I just always try my best to be positive, learn from any one I can and have complete faith that God did not set me on this path to see me fail. We are just a work in progress.
Bren turned five this week, and on his birthday, I always think of his birth mother. We know so little about her, but as a mother, I know she must think about the little boy she carried. I wish I could tell her that he is thriving. That he can write, is starting to read, that he loves Star Wars, he has lost two teeth, he can ride a two-wheeler...most of all, that he is loved, that he is safe, and that he has such an amazing future--I just know it. His birthday also falls two days before the anniversary of Roe v. Wade, and this year, March for Life embraced the theme of adoption. Two themes that have deeply colored my life and who I am today.
Spring of my junior year in college, I found myself pregnant and scared--I didn't choose adoption....in fact, it didn't even occur to me. I have gone over the memory a million times in the last twenty odd years trying to figure out what I was thinking, but mostly I can only remember blurred fear. I didn't give life a chance, and I have never been the same person.
In hindsight, I have never grasped why I made the choice: I was raised soundly Catholic by a mom who was actively pro-life; I had never believed in abortion in any way, but when I found myself in that situation I only remember fear. I didn't feel I could turn to my family; my parents were often too consumed fighting their own demons. At the moment, I was pretty much a scared kid, but really there isn't an excuse. I am 42 now, and I have rarely shared this or even fully admitted it to myself.
The guilt I harbored was, at times, more than I could bear. I spent the next five years pretty much trying to destroy myself. I could not forgive or forget. When I was finally able to go to the sacrament of reconciliation, I chose a young priest at my parish in D.C. I hoped he would help lift the burden that was destroying my soul. Instead, he basically told me that I probably shouldn't be allowed to be part of the church since I committed a mortal sin; he only reinforced what I was already thinking. It took me years after that to realize that was just one young priest--a human--not Jesus. I still struggle at times to truly accept my forgiveness...or even to forgive myself. Faith and my family eventually pulled me through so I could weave something positive. I look back and see the struggles and the transformations and how in the end so much of my life was always in God's hands.
I know the choice--I know it is a positive word for a negative that can truly destroy a person. When I see the pictures from the news, I wonder how many who fight for abortion rights truly know what they are choosing? I cringe when people try to argue that abortion empowers women--nothing could be further from the truth. I have always tried to spin positives from negative. I know what I did; I know I cannot ever change it, but that doesn't have to be the end of the story. I am an infinitely better mom because of the struggles I have overcome and even for the poor choices I have made. I am open and supportive, and I constantly remind them that I will be there for them and love them NO MATTER WHAT. I always have open arms for them. I often recall moments when I felt completely lost and connect with that when I see them trying to figure out their path in life.
Bren's birth mom had choices. I know she had to have been scared, but I thank God that she choose life. God has a plan. I explain to Bren that his belly button is where he was attached to his birth mom. That cord fed him and kept him safe so that he could grow to be a strong, healthy baby. When he is older I will share with him what I know of her, but for now I just want him to know he is wanted and belongs. I believe his birth mom must have loved him. She chose to give him life and then she chose to let him go when she realized she couldn't beat the demons in her life. We all have demons--it is how we chose to fight them that determines who we are and who we will become.
