Come Rain or Shine

Our family is currently resting in that uncomfortable spot known as "waiting for orders". Now, waiting for orders is never pleasant, but it is even worse when you don't know where in the world, literally, your orders will take you. This is particularly painful for Type A planners, like yours truly. But, alas, we are at the whim of Uncle Sam, so fussing is pretty much futile. Hopefully, in April, we will know where we head this summer, and then I can begin the planning that I must confess, I do love. Until then, we are in a holding pattern...sigh.

Our efforts to adopt again are pretty much on hold as we wait, too. We are reluctant to move forward until we know what the future holds for our family. We have mulled over so many possibilities in the past few weeks, but until we know a destination, we wait.

As we are watching a number of families adopt from the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo), we are reminded that adoption is a waiting game, too. There are so many starts and stops. Last week, we were at the starting blocks ready to go! Then we had a conference call with the adoption facilitator, and learned that they are becoming an agency because independent adoptions (which we were hoping to pursue) are no longer being allowed as of 2014. Becoming an agency doesn't change any thing per se, but the price increased and the time to complete an adoption in the DRC recently increased. So, again, we step back and re-group a bit.

As we continue to wait and watch at the sidelines, I am intrigued by the families I watch adopt for the first time. I am reminded how naive we were...and likely still are in some ways. I am currently reading a new adoption book entitled, "Come Rain or Come Shine" by Rachel Garlinghouse. What I love about the book is that it is written by a mom--a white parent, who has three black children, and it is tagged "A White Parent's Guide to Adopting and Parenting Black Children." Unlike so many other "experts"on adoption and most of the "authorities" on adoption during our own adoption, who often don't even have adopted or biological children, she is the real deal. She has been there, done that!



Wright Clan at Epcot

First of, she makes me feels like I am not crazy/paranoid. I am not. Really. :-) In the Prologue, she says, "We weren't the couple in the room with the darling newborn--swaddled in a pink blanket--sleeping in her stroller. We were the couple with the brown-skinned, afro-headed, coffee-colored-eyes, darling newborn. The reality is that despite popular pronouncements, the world is not colorblind, prejudice didn't evaporate after the civil rights movement, and being White still comes with many privileges that brown-skinned individuals do not have." She continues to say, "Particularly in the case of transracial adoption, adoptive parents will face scrutiny from both individuals of their own race and of the child's race." Amen! Not amen that this is true, but amen that we are not just imagining this. As Bren became ours, we literally watched as some people distanced themselves from us, some of them college-educated, Christian folks--people we thought were just like us. This is one reason that even as much as we love our life here, we are eager to move to a place where no one ever knew us before Bren was our son. In theory, we will not watch any one drift away and wonder what happened. What you see is what you get.

One wonderful aspect of the military is diversity. I would be remiss if I did not acknowlege the MANY others that wholeheartedly embrace our family and support us. For the most part, people in our lives are extremely open-minded, tolerant to differenes and amazingly supportive. Over Spring Break, we spent some time out and about at various Disney Parks, and we definitely saw some of the ugliness that does still persist in our society, and not just from Americans. At this point it is mostly judging, negative looks. I can tell you without doubt that if you put our adorable 4-year-old son next to any white 4-year-old, most adults will be drawn to the white child. It breaks my heart. As he grows older, it will not improve unless we change our perception of different races, particularly blacks and espcially black males.



Cole Patrick, Aidan and Brendan's Jam Session

As I read further in her book I found a checklist: "You might be a good candidate for transracial adoption if..." followed by several situations. The one that most piqued my interest: "You intend to adopt more than one minority child." Ah, validation! So, I no longer feel so guilty that my primary reason to adopt again is for Brendan to have a sibling that isn't fair-skinned, fair-haired and light-eyed. For some reason, I felt like that was a poor reason to adopt--like getting Bren a puppy. Apparently, that is okay (not the puppy, the sibling! ;-). Not that I am not eager to have one more loud child running through my house, jumping off the furniture and bickering about being touched by another one of the loud children...I am (not). ;-) Really, at the heart of my pull to adopt again is Bren. While I can point out all the ways we match: two eyes, a nose, two legs, a heart, ears, etc. I know a day will come where our ONE difference hurts like hell for him. If adopting a sibling will ease that, I'm in.

I pray that families like ours make a difference in the way races see each other. I hope that we touch lives and continue to evolve in our relatively new position as a transracial family. Soon we will know where we are headed, and we can start again, in so many ways. Only God knows what our future holds. What ever it may be, we plan to embrace it, come rain or shine.





Heart for Adoption

Heart for adoption...I hear people say it all the time, especially, "I don't have a heart for adoption." Well, truth be told, I don't have a heart for adoption. I don't. God called me to adopt. He called me and called me until he carried me when I didn't even know he was carrying me. It is only looking back that I see clearly and know how truly divine our journey was.

In the past year+, I have learned a tremendous amount about myself. I faced darkness I had not known; I found holes where I had thought I was whole. Like "they" say though (whoever they are), that which does not kill you, really does make you stronger. I am definitely stronger than I was before adoption. In the end (er, not really the end I guess), I am not the mom I thought I was. I am not the person I thought I was. We are not the family we were two years ago.

Daddy and Bren's first meeting

I am not close to saintly: I lose my patience, I yell, I judge, I am awkwardly and imperfectly human to the core; I am a sinner, plain and simple. What I do have is a defining sense of right and wrong. My world is often black and white, and often it is that clear to me. There are children in this world not only without families but also without food, shelter, medicine, safety and LOVE. My psyche and I have already had this argument; Jason and I have already had this discussion: we've adopted; we have Bren; we did "our part." Right?

Had I not taken baby steps each time God pushed me closer to His plan the first time around, we probably never would have adopted. Jason never felt particularly "called to adopt", but unlike me, Jason has an undeniable heart for adoption. His love didn't have to grow. He didn't question our journey on a daily basis, as I did. His heart didn't struggle and struggle...and struggle. He is my rock; he is Bren's rock. He is the one who held it together and unconditionally loved while my heart grew to adoption.

It is no surprise that six months ago when I first mentioned I felt the tug to adopt again, Jason looked at me like I had two heads. For a number of reasons, I put it on the back burner. Like the first time we adopted, the feeling does not subside. While the noise of our every day family life can keep it a bay for a while, one thing I know is that when God has a plan for me, He will persist louder than my worries...he will mold my heart to His plan. 

Despite not having a heart for adoption, I have a heart for God's work, for the greater good, for the need to be a part of something much bigger than me. I know there are millions of children out there who need a daddy with Jason's heart and a mama who God is growing each day. I know despite our worries about money, school, family, job, etc., etc., and our human imperfections, that we are truly blessed beyond measure. As long as we can keep giving back, it just seems like the right thing to do.

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.

Discrimination

Discrimination. Defined by the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, discrimination is "the process by which two stimuli differing in some aspect are responded to differently". At times I have been discriminated against for varying reasons: being a woman, being Catholic, being military, being a white mom, having a black son. Discrimination is pretty much ingrained in our society. When parents fail to teach their children to celebrate differences, suddenly different becomes something negative.

This morning, I walked into the Pediatric Dept at the 6th Medical Group here on MacDill for Bren's 0900 4-year-old well child check-up. Before I could even hand the receptionist my military ID, she asked me "Are you the child's biological parent?" I responded, "No, but I am his Mom." But she was already on the phone to the back. I continued to explain: "We have been here before. He is in DEERS as our son. His birth certificate names me as his parent..." "I get it, Ma'am," she responds, "you care for him." NO, you don't "get it"...I am not his caregiver. I am his MOM. Just the SAME as I am Aidan and Cole Patrick's mom. If you are asking me for prove that he is legally my child, when he is listed in DEERS as our son, than you better be doing some equal opportunity questioning of EVERY parent and requiring their birth certificates, too.

At that point, another Airmen poked her head out (the one that had been called by the receptionist) and led Bren and me to a conference room. She handed me a copy of a Florida Statute which, according to her, required me to provide his adoption decree before he could be seen by a provider. She continued to explain that they are required to enforce this law to avoid the possibility of lawsuits, and any physicians losing their licenses. At the end, I asked, "So you are telling me that you will not see him unless I go get his adoption decree." "Yes, Ma'am," she responded.

At this point, I am on the verge of tears, I am so angry. Any adoptive parent knows the blood, sweat and tears that goes into adopting. It takes an enormous amount of fortitude to navigate that journey. But when it is done, and you are holding the birth certificate that lists you as his parent, it is sweet. You finally have the legal "proof" of the commitment your heart already made. To me, I was being called out and having my role and rights as his mom questioned. I did not appreciate it.

As I walked out the door to go home for the adoption decree, Jason was standing at the reception desk. Praise God. Truly, because if he had gone TDY yesterday like he was supposed to, and I had to fight this battle on my own, it is possible I would have been standing on a desk, Security Forces may have been called, it wouldn't have been pretty... Nevertheless, Jas was there--I left Bren with him and drove home to get the required adoption decree.

The copy of the Florida Statute I was handed.

 Meanwhile, Jason read the statute (which I had not at that point because I was basically being bullied), went back to the conference room and explained to them what the statute meant. Reading it, it is pretty straight forward that this statute does NOT pertain to adoptive parents. As the portion they highlighted reads, ""Person who has the power to consent as otherwise provided by law"" includes a natural (my preferred term is biological, but that is a whole other post...! ;-) or adoptive parent..." This is certainly not rocket science--this is straight forward language. They should NOT be asking are you the biological parent. If their intent is to legally protect themselves, they should be asking "Are you the biological or adoptive parent or the legal guardian?"

In the end, we tried to explain this to three persons, including the physician, who seemed more interested in protecting himself than discriminating against adoptive parents. As I tried to explain to them, Bren will be called out as "different" enough in his life: he is adopted, he is black, his family is white. He should never be required to present his adoption decree on demand.  I know the reality that he will know discrimination, but this was completely unacceptable, unprofessional and just plain ignorant. He is our son; we are his family. We are different, and it is awesome.

How to be Black

Jason recently finished a book and highly recommended it to me. Since we have a mixed marriage, I had to go to the library to check out the version that looks, feels and smells like a book, as opposed to the electronic version he read on the iPad. So, this morning, I went to the library to check out the book: “How To Be Black.” As you can see, it is a really inconspicuous book, especially when a white woman is carrying it. J

By nature, I am an extraordinarily self-conscious person. So, it is somewhat ironic—perhaps even a bit humorous on God’s part—that I have found myself, having followed the Lord's calling, the mom in a transracial adoptive family. Being a transracial family in America is certainly one way to rip the band-aid right off of being overly self-conscious. Over the past year, I have tried to stand tall, often silently talking myself through it, as I knew eyes were on me. I know that some looks are purely curious, others judging—I am still struggling not to be overly-sensitive, either way. Slowly, we are learning to take everything in stride and infuse as much humor as possible into our family. My favorite response to “Is he adopted?” is when Jason responds, “He just came out that way. Imagine our surprise...!” I have not yet mustered up the courage to respond as boldly, and I cannot pull off humor like Jason, but I am getting there. I am confident I won't always have awkward responses...

It's no secret: Brendan's the cool one.


In no way has it been an easy year. However, it has certainly been an enlightening one. I have learned a lot about myself—not always proud moments. I hope I have built some character; I have definitely reinforced my belief that “character-building” experiences are not without lots of tears and frustration. I have also learned a little about what it is to be black. Beyond learning to care for skin and hair, I have learned that rub-on tattooes just don't work on dark skin, it is not nearly as easy in a dark bedroom to find my chocolate baby to kiss goodnight as it is to find my gravy babies, and finding personalized kid items in darker skin tones is next to impossible. Beyond the more trivial though, I have learned that the world often does see in black and white. I won’t try to verbalize this because I will surely express it with amazing ineptness, but I hope I am more understanding of every day struggles against racism. 



Apparently, this is the "dark" skin tone...Really? With a tan, I am darker than that!

As the book states in the introduction, it will not magically make you black if you are not already black, but it will certainly make you think,  maybe understand better…and certainly laugh. A lot. I have already laughed out-loud reading it in public—which is amusing just to imagine. With Black History Month coming up in February, I really like that the author, Baratunde Thurson, begins the book with 10 suggested ways to celebrate the contributions of blacks to America. Give it a shot, maybe give it a read. I really do believe that one tiny step at a time, we can all understand each other better--especially those of us who are a little different, like say, the Wrights...:-)

Love Blossomed This Year

Aidan, Cole Patrick & Brendan: Our Angels

Well, I know my last post was not much fun--I know it struck a chord with some, and I know others have watched me agonize through my in-law relationship for years, so in this wonderful season of blessings, I want to quickly follow up with a positive note. A relationship that many of you have watched beautifully blossom: our love for Brendan.

It has been a year. A whole year. As Christmas is coming, we have found that almost all of us have somehow blocked last year--we keep asking each other random questions, "Did we do this, that or the other thing last year?" and none of us can seem to recall. I am fairly certain that I was under the dining room table in fetal position--I imagine the others were taking their own emotional shelter. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Adoption is a journey, and the most difficult journey is always the most worth it.

Last year, we were in the midst of home visits, tears and chaos. Most days, I was just thankful that I kept everyone alive--we were a family in transition and more than a few of us were resisting it. I was in the darkest place I have been. I was haunted by worries about the path we had taken--constantly questioning God's plan. Jason was overwhelmed with worries about me. We were literally drowning in worry, doubt and second-thoughts. I had lost the ability to play my usual role of Martha Stewart--knowing that every thing was a struggle with a transitioning two-year-old (not to mention a transitioning 8-year old and 40-year old--Aidan and Jason were the only two to really display some fortitude). I lost my desire to bake because I was entrenched in the food wars--each night, I knew we would go to battle at the dining room table. I realized that as a stay-at-home Mom, my entire world was crashing in--maybe I wasn't the mom I thought I was? (On a positive note, I did really blossom as a runner, as Bren and I both found peace on the trail.)

 A year later, we have a son--an amazing son--without worry or doubt. The baking is back; the crafts are back; and a dark cloud no longer lingers in our dining room. A year ago, I never truly believed it would be like this. Looking back, to be perfectly honest, I was in the process of completely losing faith. I clung to the thought that one day I'll be "Mom" to him and one day I won't worry if everything he does is "normal". I  prayed that one day, we would ALL be better for the path we were walking. But I did not really believe.

 

An amazing struggle reaped blessings beyond what we dreamed: a little boy who truly calls us Mom and Dad. A little boy who now comes to us when he is hurt or sad; a little boy who loves us and depends on us. I no longer fear his emotions or who he might be. I don't think twice about taking him to Target or the Commissary...or public. I KNOW him now; I LOVE him: two things I honestly couldn't have said last Christmas.

 

This year, I am amazingly excited about Christmas--I went from barely breathing to handmaking all our Christmas cards, making ornaments and planning out everything to make this Christmas magical for them. We are happy, we are healthy and we are truly blessed.