I don't mean to be greedy, but I want another one.

One of two photos I have of D in the hospital.
(A dog only gestates for 60 days.  A monkey varies.  The little
guy in the middle??  Well, for us it was just over 900 days)

It’s been exactly one year since we got back on the list to adopt again.  We had to wait one year to even get on the list to begin with.  It took three months to get our physicals and paperwork done and another seven months to finally get our interviews, and then two more months of processing before receiving the call that we were officially waiting.  They tell you to consider yourself pregnant when you are on the list because a child could come any time.  Well, it’s the longest gestational period I’ve ever heard of.  I was looking at a list of animals with the longest gestational periods (yes, I’m random like that) and with D we were only beat out by the Black Alpine Salamander which gestates for two to three years and some sharks which can gestate up to three and half years.  Well, technically we might have tied with the salamander since it was two and half years of waiting before we got D.  And, really, if you count the extra fourteen months of waiting for the adoption to finalize, then really we win!  Sorry sharks!  So I guess, right now at twelve months, we are only up to the Bottlenose Dolphin, and it didn’t even make the top ten list.  Perhaps maybe I just need to cool my jets.  Oh, but the waiting can be so hard.  

D is growing like a weed, and I so want him to have a sibling or two and I want to have more children.  Sometimes after a hard day with him, I wonder what the heck I’m thinking in wanting more.  But most days, he is my funny little companion who keeps me on my toes and makes me see life in a whole new way.  He reminds me that there is still purity and innocence in this world.  He reminds me to stop and look at bugs and leaves and funny cloud shapes.  He reminds me that no job I hold down right now would be as important as these experiences with him.  He reminds me why I wanted to be a mother.  And he reminds me that even though I hold fear that we might have another heart-wrenching experience like losing our little Isaac, we could also have another experience like keeping our precious D.  And so we wait.  Next month, we’ll pass up the Manatee, and by the time D turns four in May, we will have shot right past the camel, velvet worm, rhinoceros and walrus and we will be neck and neck with the giraffe.  I hope we don’t catch up with the elephant.  And I sure as heck don't want to catch up with those extra-long-gestating sharks.  I hope it's soon. I hope we have more kids in our home before the 2013 holiday season sets in.  I hope we get to keep those kids forever. I hope.

(side note...the last part of this post was inspired by the last few things Red says in Shawshank Redemption, lest anyone think I was stealing the idea....which I was, but at least I'm giving credit.  His last paragraph or so has stuck with me lately, and describes in a way how I feel about this whole process)

Am I racist for wanting a white baby?

One of the many things I don’t think people are prepared for when they dream of adopting a baby, is the day they have to sit down and fill out a form full of little boxes and make decisions as to what you will or won’t accept in a child.  You choose everything from age, gender, medical history (not just of the child but of both birth parents), developmental status, and race.  It is an overwhelming task.  When you birth a child, you get what you get.  And though maybe you might want the option of choosing some of these things, the upside is that you don’t have to make those choices.  You feel like you are picking out a new car—I want red, with under 5,000 miles, a V-8 engine, DVD player and it must do 0-60 in 4 seconds.  Check.  Check.  Check.   

But this is a child.  You feel incredibly selfish saying you will not accept a child whose mother’s family had a history of schizophrenia because the risk of the child inheriting it are so great, even though the baby shows no signs.  I will talk about those choices another day, but right now, I want to talk about race.  Such a hot topic, but one you have to face.

I’m sure many of you feel as I did when we first went into the process.  “Love conquers all!”  “I’m not racist…I don’t mind having a child of another race in my family.”  But let’s get real.  Let me back up to one of the first classes we were required to take during the process to acquire our home study so we could even get on the list to adopt (we adopted through San Diego County Adoptions).  It was about transracial adoptions, and it stopped me dead in my tracks.  Two things in that class had a huge impact on me, especially as an all white woman.  John is actually one-fourth Native American, however, he looks very white.  So basically, we’re white.  White, white, white.  And I think it’s important to accept that and be okay with it.  Everyone wants to have a little something else in them these days--I guess it makes us feel a little more exotic!  But frankly, I don’t have anything but whiteness in my family line (at least beyond the yet to be proved, possibly Native American great-grandfather rumor). 

So for the two things in the class that had a huge impact us.  First, we did this experiment.  Here’s how it goes.  We were given a plate of M&M’s and a plate of white mini-marshmallows, and each of us was given a cup.  Each color of M&M corresponded to a race.  I know it’s very general, but for the sake of this experiment, it worked.  Then, our instructor read of a list of relationships.  For each race represented in that relationship, you put one M&M of the corresponding color in your cup.  So, referring to my photograph of the chart, here is an example.  They started with yourself.  Enter one white marshmallow.  Next was your family (your parents and siblings).  Even though there are six people in my family, I only put in one representative candy.  Enter another white marshmallow.  Extended family.  I have one cousin who married a man from Trinidad who is black.  The rest of my extended family is white.  So, I drop in one representative blue M&M and one white, white, white marshmallow.  Coworkers.  White marshmallow, a brown, yellow and red M&M, to represent the races of the people I worked with.  Your boss.  Your church.  Your best friend.  Your circle of closest friends.  Your neighborhood.  The school you went to.  Etc. Etc. Etc.  Marshmallow, marshmallow, an occasional M&M and more marshmallows.  You get the point.  In the end, my cup looked something like this.  Nothing wrong with it, I'm just being honest.

I want to explain the second thing in the class that had a huge impact before I explain the moral to the experiment and to the story.  The second thing was a video we watched of grown adoptee adults.  All all of them were at least part African-American.  They all had been adopted by white parents.  The thing that was so apparent was the struggle and the bitterness most of them felt at not being raised by, or around other African-Americans.  I was really taken aback.  You could feel their pain at having been “the poor black kid saved by the generous white people”.  Some were more bitter than others, but they all struggled with it.  And these were kids who loved and cared about these white parents, but still felt great pain at being raised in a white life—white family, friends, schools, etc. 

Now, I will say this, the video is a little older, and I do think inter-racial families are not only much more common, but much more accepted than they used to be.  However, the point brought up in class after the experiment and the video was this.  Don’t think for a second that “love conquers all”.  It was never said that you should not consider adopting a child of another race.  The point was that you need to be aware that it does matter.  Race matters.  As much as we want to push that we all should love each other no matter what, it’s not just about love....at least not solely about love.  Race is a big part of our identity.  It’s what we see physically when we look in the mirror.  And if you are going to adopt a child not of your race, then perhaps that race should at the very least be represented in your cup of candy.  Even if a child doesn’t see any resemblance when he looks at you, because maybe he is brown and you are white, maybe he should at least be able to see some brown when you go outside in the neighborhood, or to church, or to the grocery store, or to a family reunion.  Kids need to see other people that look like them in some way.  That's what these adult adoptees had missed growing up. They need to know that they are normal--that people that look like them are normal and a part of your circle.  It was  real eye-opener.

But, let’s look at the facts now, and try to see why this is so difficult.  The majority of couples waiting to adopt are Caucasian.  The majority of kids being adopted are not.  The largest percentage of non-white kids up for adoption are African-American.  (These are the statistics for San Diego County, so this may vary a little from state to state, but in my research so far, I’ve found it’s pretty similar everywhere in the U.S.).  The most requested child in San Diego County Adoptions is a newborn white girl, which does not come available very often.  So, you do the math.  Then I ask, is it worse for an African-American child to be placed with all white parents, than to sit in foster care for the rest of her life?  There is an African-American girl up for adoption right now who is fourteen.  She was removed from her home as an infant and has had more than thirty placements.  She has been up for adoption since she was about six, and has still not been placed.  I don’t know all the reasons, but it breaks my heart.  Would it be better for her to now go with an all white family or graduate out of the system with no family? 

We have, on more than one occasion, had white friends say to us “I would love to adopt a little black child….they are the cutest kids!  I think it would be so fun to have a little black child.”  I am not lying.  We have heard this comment numerous times!  Frankly, they are cute.  But these are children, not puppies!  That is not why we should adopt a child. 

Where do we stand?  I don’t know.  We were more open before we got D.  If you look at my post about our failed adoption “The One That Got Away: Memories of a Failed Adoption”, you will see that we took a bi-racial child the first time, mostly because I thought we would have one or two more, and as long as we all looked a little different, then it would be okay—no one child would be singled out.  I never expected to wind up with a child that, aside from the black hair, looks like he could be our biological child.  Now, we are looking to adopt a second child, and we are presented with a dilemma.  If D looked more ethnic in some way, I could see being more open.  We are most likely only going to adopt one more time.  I’m hoping it’s a sibling group, so we can have three children.  But frankly, we aren’t getting any younger, and as long as the process takes, this is our last time through either way.  So, now we have three family members who look very white, and I don’t want one child to feel like odd man out.  I don’t want that one child to be the only one everyone points out and asks if he/she is adopted.  If D had looked different, it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but now it’s more complicated.  I’m not saying we won’t adopt a child who doesn’t look white.  I’m just saying we need to be realistic about the needs of the child.  It’s hard to talk this way when you feel it’s just not politically correct.  But it is honest.  And I think it’s better to be honest about what a child will face, then to make him your social experiment.  Am I racist?  Absolutely not.  But, I don’t want to put a child in a position to always be singled out and talked about differently.  I don’t think our children should pay the price for us trying to change people’s perceptions.  That’s just me.  I want to raise a family that changes the world in positive ways.  But, I just don’t want that to be at the expense of one particular child.  Don't let the title of the post fool you--we are still open to a transracial adoption, but he/she has to be the right fit for our family, and we need to be the right fit for that child.  What that is, I don’t know.  But when it happens, we will know, and we will be educated in our choices, and we won't care if someone thinks we are racist for thinking that skin color matters, because in my opinion, it is more racist to assume a child should not care about, or need to identify with his or her race.  To ignore a part of who you are does just as much damage as to make that one thing seem more important than anything else.  There has to be a balance.  I hope we can find that it if the situation arises. I still think about that fourteen year old African-American girl in foster care, and know I could be a good mother to her.  Frankly, the age gap between her and D is the bigger issue, and that's a post for another time. 

P.S.  Maybe this brings up something else I should add to my list of things not to say to people waiting to adopt....I'll have to think about that...  Check out that post.  Open letter to friends and family of someone dealing with infertility, and perhaps looking at adoption as the next step: 7 THINGS NOT TO SAY, in no particular order:

Open letter to friends and family of someone dealing with infertility, and perhaps looking at adoption as the next step: 7 THINGS NOT TO SAY, in no particular order:

1.   “Take my kids for a weekend and see if you still want any.”  It’s not the same thing.  I don’t care how much you love a niece or the son of a friend, having them for a weekend would not soothe the desire for a child nor would it eliminate it.  Anyone who has felt the great blessing of being given the opportunity to raise their own child should know this.  I don’t want a weekend baby.  I’m not looking to babysit.  I want a son or a daughter.  This comment only pours salt in the wound that not only do I not have a child, but you aren’t enjoying the ones you have.  I remember Madonna making a comment once about how money was over-rated, and I thought, then why doesn’t she just give it all away?  It’s easy to say money is over-rated when you're loaded.  But when there is $10 in your bank account and you have a child to take care of, it doesn’t seem so over-rated.  A comment like this from someone who already has the one great thing you would love to have just hurts.  It isn’t funny.

2.  “Adopted kids are just different/difficult.”  Well, thank you for raining on my parade!  I have one option to have kids—adoption.  So, for you, with your three kids, to tell me that my only path is subpar is insensitive.  I am not an ignorant girl who thinks kids are about people at the park telling me how cute my child is.  I know it will be hard.  But, frankly, there are no guarantees with a biological child.  There is disease and mental illness and hard-headedness and rebelliousness.  None of us are given a free pass.  I know plenty of adopted kids that have thrived in a loving home.  There may be issues.  Or their might not be that many.  But, I am thrilled at the chance to adopt, so although I appreciate your concerns, I’m not going into it blindly.  To me, having children is not about the picture-perfect Christmas card, although I love that as much as the next person.  Having children is about providing a child with a chance to learn and grow and thrive and be a better person, and that is as true for an infant as it is for a 10-year-old kid who’s been in foster care a good part of his life.  Maybe he will have more struggles, but the point is that he has a family, and someone to spend time with him and help him sort through the things that have happened to him and help him to be a better person.

3.  “Maybe if you adopt a child you will get pregnant.”  This is quite possibly the absolute worst reason to adopt a child.  We, as adoptive parents, need to be 110% on board with adopting a child because we want that child.  Not because we are hoping it will have some magical effect on our bodies and we will suddenly be able to conceive the child we really want.  An adopted child has already been through a lot, and older children have been through so, so much.  It is so unfair to expect that child to now be the sacrifice for something supposedly greater.  Most of us who adopt don’t feel this way.  And you, as family and friends, need to not think that way, either.  And if it does happen, and we get pregnant after we adopt, you need to know that to us, those kids are the same.  They are both ours and we love them both equally, so please don’t treat them differently.  Please don’t think because your family’s DNA runs in the veins of one and not the other, that that child should be the one to inherit the special family heirloom, or get the family name, or any other special treatment.  To us, these kids are our flesh and blood.  We don’t see them differently, so you shouldn’t either.

4.  RE: any fertility treatment:  “I just know this is going to work!”  I don’t know how many times I heard this.  The thing is, I know you mean well and are trying to be a cheerleader, but you CAN’T know it’s going to work.  You aren’t God.  None of us KNOW what is going to work.  And believe me, once you’re on your 6^th or 7^th or 10^th fertility procedure, no one wants it to work more than you do.  It’s better to say things like “I sure hope this works!  I am keeping you guys in my prayers” or “You have been through so much, you sure deserve this” or “we love you and are there for you no matter what.  Please let me know what I can do to help.”

5.  (While in the middle of a difficult moment with your child) “Are you sure you want kids?”  It’s similar to the “Take my kids for the weekend….” comment.  I know parenthood isn’t easy.  But I do know it’s worth it.  I know that I desperately want a child, and if yours is acting up at the moment and you are frustrated, I also know that that will pass.  I don’t want your screaming child.  I want my own screaming child.  And I say that because I know my child will scream sometimes.  In fact, as I’m writing this, I’m in the middle of a battle of wills with my 2 ½ year old wonderful son, and he is screaming because he doesn’t want to pick up a handful of raisins he has thrown on the floor for the third time.  And though I'm frustrated, I am secretly smiling, because hearing him scream is a reminder that I have a son.  I know you are frustrated in that moment, and I know that sometimes, we say things out of frustration.  But, it is more salt in the wound. 

6.  “Just have faith.”  If everyone who wanted something in life was able to get it by just having faith, none of us would want for anything.  I believe faith is about believing that God will direct you in the path that is best for you, and often that means accepting a different path than you thought you were destined for.  And that’s not a bad thing.  I hear stories all the time of people who thought they wanted to follow one road, and an accident or tragedy or just a chance happening (if you believe in chance), led them somewhere else and it turned out to be a wonderful thing—better than the original plan.  I have faith that if I try to do what’s right, and pray to know what I need to be doing, then I will be led to the thing(s) that is right for me.  Infertility and chance meetings with different people led me down the road to adoption, and it has been the greatest blessing in my life.  I wouldn’t wish the disappointments we suffered on anyone, but I wouldn’t change it for us.  When you tell someone they could just have something if they just had enough faith, it is a backwards criticism.  In other words, you are saying you had enough faith because you have a child, but I must not because I don’t.  And I hope we all know that is not true. 

7.  “You are so great to give that child a better life.”  This is another comment that seems like a compliment, but it’s not a good thing to say, especially in front of the child.  I didn’t go into adoption to be benevolent or charitable.  And I know it may be a fine line, but it’s not a service project.  It is a human life.  And that human life needs a family, not a benefactor.  We want our family and friends to know that we want a child, period.  It is %100 selfish.  It is not to do a good deed, or at least it shouldn’t be.  A child deserves to be wanted.  Every child deserves that.

I'm sure there are more, and I know that we need to not be overly sensitive to everything people say.  But sometimes, in the middle of such an emotional, hormone-involved situation, hearing these comments for the 10th time can lead to a complete meltdown.  My biggest advice is to just be supportive and positive and don't avoid eye contact with us or avoid inviting us to baby showers because you don't want to upset us.  We don't want to feel alone because nobody knows what to say.  Just express love, support, and let's have conversations about other things, too.  We are going to cry, and that's okay.  Just cry with us, or buy us ice cream.  And when we get the call that we are getting a child, whether straight from the hospital or 10 years old, be super excited for us.  And love our kids as unconditionally as you would if you had been present at a live birth.  We will love you forever for it.

The love of a birth mother

The Love of a Birthmother by Susan Scharpf

This is my original illustrated poem about the love of a birth mother. I think there are lots different reasons a birth mother gives up a baby.  Maybe she was just so young and didn't feel she had the skills and the resources to take care of a child.  Maybe she was pressured by her parents.  Maybe she was scared.  Maybe she never had any kind of family support to help her sort through her options and be there to love and help her. Or maybe it was because their life was just such a mess she couldn't see how this added responsibility could fit in. Whatever the reason, there is often a decision that this is the best thing for this child. And even if it's because they just don't want to take care of a baby, they did carry that baby to the end when they could have ended his or her life. And sometimes turning over that child is best for everyone. No one knows the deep pain that affects a person's choices. But sometimes, something wonderful comes from it. And for those of us who have dreamed of having that baby placed in our arms, that mother gave a gift that we couldn't get without her. That's what this is about. 

Post your adoption stories!

So many thoughts have been in my head about this whole process. It's been a week since we finalized, and I've written 10 poems, all just a little different. So many people are sharing their experiences with me. It's one of those things that you don't realize has affected so many people around you until you start talking abou it. I have one poem that's about glass, so am looking for a glass artist to create something to go with it.

Been thinking about the baby we lost a lot lately. We had him 5 months and the "unknown" father, who wasn't really unknown, got him back. It's been 3 years and as I thought about the day he took him away, I started to tear up again. So I thought about something else. Haven't really let myself go there yet. Don't know how long it will take before I can revisit that day, but I know it's not yet. I'm thrilled we have D, but he's not a replacement. He's his own child, and little Isaac will always hold a special place in our hearts. I haven't written anything about that experience yet---maybe that's next....we'll see.

Forever Family Print

I was up for hours one night while all these poems just came to me. Now, I'm up for hours putting the images with the words. At first this was going to be the beginning of a longer poem, but I really liked the way it sounded short and sweet. One of the things you have come to terms with when you finally reach the point that you're ready to adopt, is that your child or children is probably not going to look like a combination of you and your spouse. And although that may sound a little superficial that you would want that, it's something you've often thought about since you were a kid--what will my kids look like? You have to mourn each loss, no matter what that loss is. Then, when you're filling out paperwork, you have to fill out the laundry list of things you will and won't take in a child, and part of that is physical--what ethnic groups will you accept? What if there are birth defects? It's a long exhausting list, and the emotions of making all those decisions you don't have to make with pregnancy can be daunting. But, when you get the phone call to come see your baby, if you've properly mourned all those losses step by step, you just don't care any more. And it becomes exciting to hear what they look like! Oddly enough, our baby wound up looking a lot like us afterall! So funny how that happens sometimes. But, even if he hadn't, we couldn't love him more if he was flesh and blood.