I see you.

And my children see you watching them.

And even though you have a smile on your face, you are still drawing attention to us.

I totally get it. You see, I used to be just like you! I’d see a family that looked a bit… hmmmmm… what’s the right way to put this… mixed. Not all the colors match up. The body shapes, skin tones, and/or hair and eye colors didn’t all go together, and it was obvious that there was more than one baby mama going on. And like you, I wanted to know more about adoption! I wanted to know the story, the how comes and the whys, the little and big details because I was considering taking this big leap of faith called adoption. I was thinking I wanted to adopt a child, and add a child to our family in this unconventional way. I wanted to get more information and a first-hand account of what it’s like! And like you, I may have not known a good way to approach a total stranger in the check out line of Target. So I often just stared, and smiled, and thought about the right way to say something. Sound familiar?

So before I tell you the way I’d like to be approached, here are some tidbits of information to please consider before you say anything.

This may not be a good time for me to talk. We are in Target after all. I just wrangled 3 young kiddos through shopping, each of whom did their best to persuade me that they must have Every. Single. Thing. that we passed. I am now simultaneously juggling my car keys, my debit card, several bags, my purse, a sippy cup, a baggie of goldfish crumbs, and a two-year-old who wants no part of sitting down in the cart. I’m also trying hard to distract a 5 year old from having a temper tantrum over gum that I will not buy, and redirect another child who is trying to engage a total stranger to push her “Fire Dog button.” I can’t seem to remember the code for my new debit card. And I might be 30 minutes late to my next appointment that I haven’t remembered I even have yet.

So now might not be a good time for me to talk.

And that’s ok.

If it is a good time for me to talk, and even if I really want to share adoption information with you, my children may not want me to talk to you, especially if they are old enough to understand what we are talking about. I’m sure you’ll understand that what is best for my children trumps absolutely every single good thing that we could talk about or any information that you may take away from our conversation. Anything I’d like to say or anything that you’d like to know pales in comparison to what is best for my child! You see, my kiddos, especially as they’ve gotten older, don’t want to stick out in a crowd. They want to blend in. And as you’ve already noticed, they don’t come by that “blending in” thing easily. As they get older, they probably don’t want to be talked about especially in reference to how they are different. They already look different from their parents and community, and often all they want to do is to look the same when they obviously can’t. They don’t want to be anyone’s child that was adopted or a topic of conversation. They just want to be plain ol’ children in the checkout line of Target. So I may not talk to you because my child is in earshot and/or has no desire to be the poster child for any cause. Albeit a truly wonderful cause.

I am not a saint. I have not “saved” anyone. I am not in the saving business as that is only for God. I simply wanted a child to call my own and to be his mama. I am not a better woman than any other mother that wanted a child. I have awful moments. I yell. I lose my patience. I do things I regret. I don’t actually know what I’m doing most of the time and have become a master at “winging it.” I’m just doing the best I can.

My children are not lucky for being adopted, so please don’t say they are. They are not lucky to have been adopted, to be adopted by us and in our family, or to be United State’s citizens. Children from adoption have already endured heart-breaking loss, including the loss of their first families, and often the additional loss of the their language, culture, and their heritage. And they have often lost the ability to blend in with their family when they are in at the the checkout line of Target. These are facts that make them far from lucky.

If you want information on the specifics of how to adopt a child, I am not a good source of information. The process of adoption continually changes, as do different types of adoption, and the specific processes from various countries. If you want hard facts, you would do much better to do research online and call an adoption agency (or two or three or more of them) and get information from them.

If however you are looking for a first-hand account of what it’s like from a mother’s perspective to adopt a child, (or a child with a special need, or a child of a different race) then I would be able to tell you about this. But you may be surprised at the answer . . . because it’s really short.

It’s not really any different that than being a mama to any child.

Do not ask for the details of my child’s past. Do not educate us on the horrific effects of China’s one-child policy. . . even if you whisper. Do not ask how much our child costs. Do not ask about his orphanage or his first mom. Do not ask about her “real” family, if we know them, and why they did not “keep” her. Do not ask if she knew her mom or how she came to be adopted. These details, if known, are precious to my child and are her information to keep a secret especially from strangers if she desires. Also know that this information is incredibly sensitive to her. Just as you don’t want to share the intimate details of your life or marriage or the most difficult gut-wrenching times in your past with strangers, my child does not want you to ask him questions about it or want me discuss it with you either, especially in the checkout line of Target.

Now random stranger, just a little reminder. . . if you would like information regarding our adoption simply because you’re wondering about my children and why we chose to enlarge our family in this unconventional way, and want to know 411 to satisfy your own curiosity, I suggest you find another source of entertainment like reality television. Or juggling.

Please understand if I correct some of the terms and/or phrases you use. I am not trying to hurt your feelings, and I really do know that your questions are well meaning. But even so, words can be offensive and hurtful, and this is a wonderful opportunity to help us all use better terms and phrases that help children grow in a healthier and more considerate community.

I am their real mom.

They really are brother and sister.

All my children, regardless of how they came to our family, are our own.

Please refer to them simply as children, not adopted children or children that have been adopted.

My children are from Scottsdale, Arizona. Yes, I know that’s not what you meant, but that is where they are from.

Now, like I said before, I used to be you, and I too really wanted a first-hand account of what it’s like to adopt and raise a child that didn’t grow within my womb. But I was often at a loss for the best words on how to start the conversation and certainly didn’t want to say the wrong thing or at the wrong time. I totally understand your thirst for information. I think most (but certainly not all, and that’s ok too) parents who have adopted, given the right setting, are willing to share their first-hand experiences if you have good intentions.

So in hind sight, I recommend saying something like this.

1–State your intent. “I’m in the process of adopting a child…” or “I’ve always wanted to adopt.”

2–Then follow it up in the same breath by opening the door of conversation a tiny bit with something like, “I’ve always wanted to know more about the process. Could you tell me where I could get more information?” or “Is your daughter Chinese?” or “You have a beautiful family!”

Then see what type of response you get back. Like I said, I saw you looking at us, and I already know what you’re digging for even before you said anything. So after you state your intent and open the door a bit, you’ll get the idea pretty quickly if now is a good time or not for me to engage in adoption conversation.

And if it’s not a good time, perhaps I avoid eye contact, or my answer is short or curt, please don’t be offended. It just may not be the right time and/or place for such a discussion.

Please understand that first and foremost I always have the very best the interest of my children at heart.

So thank you, random shopper in the Target check-out line*** that is staring at me and my children and is just dying to engage us in a conversation about adoption. Thank you for listening.

I knew you’d understand.

Sincerely,

Nancy

***please feel free to insert any of the following
- random stranger at Walmart
- random stranger at the produce section of the grocery store
- random stranger as we order our sandwiches at Subway
- random stranger in the pew behind us at church
- random stranger sitting next to me in the waiting room of the pediatrician’s office
- the mom of the my son’s new friend at preschool
- our neighbor that we only see at Halloween and when she’s walking her dog
- the teller that I see every single time I go to the bank who has friend from high school who just adopted a little girl from China too
- the entire extended family that was leaving The Olive Garden as we were being seated
- the receptionist at the orthodontist that thinks she knows our family so well, but really do you?
- my sister-in-law’s colleague that is currently having infertility issues that I just met at a baby shower
- Uncle Weldon’s new “lady friend” that I was recently introduced to who did a mission trip to the Philippians in the 1980′s and is joining us for Thanksgiving dinner

When I was two years old…

…my mom left.

When Tess and Jude were 12 months old, they were taken from the only home they knew.
When Mimi was 23 months old, she was taken from the only mama she knew.

So how do we process not being chosen?

I don’t remember any of those younger years or the time when she didn’t come back. I don’t suspect Tess, Jude, or Mimi will either.
But not having any recollection of it, is far from meaning it doesn’t shape a large portion of one’s soul.
And future.
And how one would live the rest of their life.

I could go into a lot of details. But I’m not going to.

Don’t get me wrong. I was loved. I was cherished. I was held when I hurt and guided gently the way only parents do. My papa remarried and raised me with all the things he thought a treasured daughter should have, including a mama that was there for it all and raised me with love as if I was her very own.
Indeed I am her very own.
I am hers.
Her daughter.
I was brought up in a pretty stinkin’ normal family.

I treasure Tess, Jude, and Mimi as if they were born to me. It is no different.
They are my daughters and son.
And I’d like to think they are also being raised in a pretty stinkin’ normal family.

I knew my story all along. And so do my children. There has never been and never will be a moment that they don’t know. As a child and teenager, I would have been the first to tell you that I knew my story, and it wasn’t a big deal. These things happen… happened to me… and life goes on. I still had my father and kept my culture and extended family. Unlike my youngest children.

But all these years turn decades later, I am still haunted at how profound it can be.

As often happens in my life, seasons pass and often my grief is again brought to the surface. A wedding. A birth. The holidays. A party. Birthdays. And it can come right back. The loss of a parent is huge, and even under the best circumstances, it can be emotionally challenging even four decades later.

Why do I still struggle?
Why do I still grieve?
Why can’t I just count my blessings and get over it?
Why can’t I surrender this pain to Him?
Suddenly there’s a reminder, and I spiral back.

Denial
Anger
Negotiation
Grief
Fear
Acceptance
Denial…
for 42 flippin’ years I fight the cycle.
I’m still fighting this cycle four decades later.

So it should come as no surprise that Tess flips out during Jude’s birthday. I should be completely on my toes at the holidays, prepared for my child’s anger or bargaining to surface. And it does. Tess struggles for control when the routine changes. Jude withdraws and gets anxious if there’s too much going on. Mimi becomes demanding when she feels unsafe in her world. I’m gonna hang on tight as they grow and change.

Of course the mama in me wants to protect them, my own children, from this haunting cycle of grief and anger and fear.
As the mama, I don’t want them to hurt. I want to take it all away.
As the child, I know that’s just not always possible.
This thing that is adoption is born of hurt and loss. And that I understand with every ounce of my being.

I think what I most want to say, from personal experience, is that we parents can’t always fill the loss or
repair the damage for our children, our beloved children that weren’t chosen by their first families.
We can’t always fill the void.
I’d like to think mama love is a cure-all, and indeed so many things are possible with love. As adoptive parents we have seen firsthand how love can transform a child. But love isn’t a panacea for our children. Love can not take away the loss. They may grieve for four decades and more, and it’s ok. So when it resurfaces, I will hold their hands and acknowledge their pain as mamas do for 42 more years and longer if need be. And they will feel that love in the midst of their grief.

I know there are a lot of questions.
And not a lot of answers.
And no real ending.
And that’s part of it too.

Still trying to work through it,