Elephant in the Room

Last Friday I was part of a radio interview for a call in show.

The topic was supposed to be haiti and child trafficking.

I was being interviewed because of my professional work - not anything to do with our personal adoption.

The producer sent us advance questions before the interview.
I spent hours cramming my head full of talking points pertaining to those exact questions.

I have never been on a radio interview before. I definitely have never been on a call-in show before. In fact, I rarely listen to the radio and my experience with call in shows is limited to J's fascination with turning on C.ar T.alk to annoy me.

All of this lack of radio experience means that there was no way I could predict the twists and turns my interview would take. (J was all "I warned you about call in shows" when it was over like he is the call in show expert!)

Awkward Exhibit A:

Caller: Ummmm....yes....I am from xyz small town and I once took a first aid class a long time ago....will the Haitian government employ me to help?

My Ideal Host in Ideal Radio Land (obviously created just inside my head but not existing in reality): "well caller, that's a good question but not on the topic of ___________! So let's move on shall we? And remember...stay on topic!"

Actual Host: Grrreat question! Guest (insert my name) how do you respond??

Me: Aaahh. Yes. Um. (Now grasping for interview tactics I had gleaned from my tiny amount of prep time that day.) That IS an excellent question. But maybe a better question would be....(insert my own new theme for the conversation.)

Sigh. It went on for an hour. I got into the groove right around minute 59.

Now this is why I am posting about it on my adoption blog:

The Very First Caller asked This Question: (I did not hear it directly as I was accidentally dropped from the call at this time. The host called me back and summarized.) Something along the lines of...."Isn't it paternalistic and suspicious that so many white people want to adopt black babies from Haiti and Africa?"

Not prepared folks. Not in the preparatory questions!!
In my opinion not even on theme. And not really a question.

I had some adoption answers (specific to Haiti) prepared but not one answer flew to mind. I instantly reeled with the personal impact of the question/comment.

My answer was not all that profound. And I moved on quickly.

But what I wanted to do was rant at this person about how little he understands of love, about fighting for children to be in families and not in orphanages, and how trans-racial adoption has nothing to do with colonization or the assumption that African families can't be good parents.

My heart hurt after the program was over and I returned to this question. I feel like I may have sacrificed my personal opinions to the god of keeping radio land happy and not inviting more calls on the same topic. My colleague later told me privately that she feels this is the elephant in the room when talking about adoption.

Has anyone experienced a similar comment/question? If so, how did you deal with it?

Is it a big elephant in the room or is it just a baby elephant in a herd of adoption opinions?




~A

Dogs, Books, Babies and a Glimmer of Hope

Have you noticed in my last several posts that I'm really trying hard not to obsess over our referral? I have been finding new things to obsess about.

1. Serious cramping/pain in my lower abdomen.

Day one: treated it as beginning of cycle. Early.

Day two: looked all over internet and decided it is early pregnancy cramping. Spent day having faux pregnancy which involved eating a frosty and fries (now that I am eating for two you know...) and calculating my due date online.

Day three: pain moves from lower abdomen to upper abdomen and after much more googling decide that it is side effects from my PCOS - obviously a bleeding cyst.

Today is Day Four and since I have way too many other interesting things to think about I've decided that I'm better. (Although faux pregnancy continues since I refuse to take a test and put an end to the daydream. By the time it ends I'm sure I'll have gained 5 lbs.)

2. Building a baby book library that is reflective of baby's race and culture and our uniqueness as as an adoptive family. This has become a major obsession and was fueled by an article I read by an adoptive father recently who stated that he had spent years helping his children adopted from Russia appreciate their culture. "Their MISSISSIPIAN culture." HUGH UGH. I know I ask this a lot, but what is wrong with people?

3. Milo. Well you saw in my last post that I am on a mission to rescue Milo in Thailand.

I can't help but feel personal responsibility and guilt that I left Milo (fully knowing that at some point the tsunami volunteers would all leave and probably not consider taking him) and brought Talay home with me. She was a cute little puppy. Milo was an older dog. I think it mirrors some of my guilt in our adoption. If I really analyze it. We've asked for a baby/toddler. Instead of one of the older children who I know need and desperately want to be adopted but have less hope of growing up with a family. I'm no therapist but after analyzing my obsession with Milo that's what I've come up with. Not that I plan to stopy trying to help him. Am planning a fundraiser for Milo and the S.oi D.og F.oundation here in Denver.

(BTW, did you see how FAST the organization found my post and commented yesterday? Wow. Serious proof of the power of G.oogle A.nalytics.)

(My last night on the beach in Khao Lak. Milo was so happy to go to the beach.)

(Milo playing with Talay. I flew home the next day and Talay arrived by cargo a few days later.)

4. I have saved the best for last for those of you still reading. There are referral deee velllll oppppp mennnttttsss...... (read the last word in a sing songy voice - that helps.)

What to share? What not to share? I would share it all if I thought it would be ok with our agency.

Bare minimum details. A little girl that I have known about for 2 months will be paper ready for referral at end of this month. She is a little over our ideal age range. But her name has found a place in my heart and thoughts. We have never seen a photo of her but a friend is at her orphanage for the next 10 days and will email me a little report with pictures and her thoughts.

Our agency is going to be working with a new orphanage. One that cares specifically for kids with the special need we have requested. When I opened my email this morning and saw the details my stomach cramps and malaise just sort of disappeared. I might even organize the basement this weekend!

I hope. I hope that after reading my last week of posts nobody comes away from this blog wondering why we are adopting. I hope that you will leave a comment if you want to talk more offline. I hope that I am not too much of a downer but have helped anyone considering adoption to think through some of the issues clearly. I'm glad to have this forum, and all of the amazing adoptive mothers who are willing to dialogue, because there is always room to examine, debate, and discuss when we are talking about children's lives. Thanks.

Signing off with hope,

~A

Coming Out

I feel like I'm coming out of the closet....I am not an "adoption advocate."

There. It's been said. I'm hoping my followers don't all drop and run en masse.

How I realized this?

Yesterday I set up a coffee date with a woman from my church who is also adopting from Ethiopia. We were connected by email but haven't met in person yet.

Almost immediately after setting up our date I began having anxiety about what kind of path our conversation will take.

I realized I am not an adoption advocate because as I had mixed feelings it dawned on me that I am not the go-to girl for all things adoption related. I don't encourage others to adopt. I get nervous around people who I sense are part of the movement to get every Christian to adopt an orphan in need. I don't advertise about our adoption. I don't get excited when I hear that there is an adoption movement or a church starting an adoption ministry.

Why?

I am cynical I suppose.
I have read a lot of blogs and websites that present false images about adoption. I detest the adoption agency ads with photos of smiling healthy babies with taglines like "I am waiting for you to come and find me." Schmarmy. And really totally untrue in my experience.

Haven't we all learned from our adoption experiences that these days there are very few reputable programs that actually have healthy infants "waiting" for families. In fact, I can't think of one. There may be healthy babies waiting out there but they are not immediately available. China - 4/5 year wait now?
Ethiopia - most large agencies are 1-2 year wait.
Russia - majority of kids have special needs or at high risk.
Korea - phasing out healthy infant referrals for mostly special needs infant referrals.
Haiti- 2 years (although I have heard reports of 3+ years.)

So I have a hard time with the happy, warm, fuzzy belief that there are beautiful orphanages tragically filled with healthy infants who all happen to be double orphans waiting for us adoptive families.

Reality is that many kids who are adopted have one living parent. Reality is that most agencies have 90% of adoptive families registering for healthy infants while 90% of their immediately available children are older or have special needs.

That is a huge reality gap pertaining to adoption. So I can't be an adoption advocate unless I can be real with people and unless people get real.

Here is my personal reality check -those of us who want infants or toddlers (with or without special needs) are adopting to expand our families. That is the reality. I don't know anyone who is adopting an infant or toddler to "save an orphan" and quite honestly that would not be an appropriate reason to adopt anyway.

Here is the world's reality check - the vast majority of kids in critical need of and available for immediate adoption are older kids. Kids with special needs and long-term disabilities. I could be an advocate for adoption if both of these realities were part of the adoption discussion. If these were things that every adoptive parent understood or wanted to understand.

But I'm not sure that is the case right now. Many do understand. And many do not. And holding adoption pep rallies where realities are not presented are not my cup of tea.

You can see why I am nervous about coffee with my new aquaintance. I hate being a downer. But I hate unrealistic adoption small talk....

While I am on my soap box here I am going to say one more thing that may cause the last few of you reading to officially drop me.

I don't like the word orphan. There. I have said it.
I don't know a single child who would want to be called an orphan or who would consider it anything other than a discriminating and negative label.

And when we talk about "143 million orphans" in the world we are talking about children who have lost one or both parents. Vast majority living with a surviving parent. I just think it does injustice to the reality of the situation and diminishes the importance of that surviving parent.

I hope you don't all leave me or hate me. I have learned a LOT by reading adoption advocates' blogs. I have had my heart softened and prepared by adoption advocates. I have had deep and sustaining conversations with other mothers who have or are coming to these same conclusions. And I have been encouraged and loved and supported by people who would not agree with me and whom I would hate to alienate.

But I just can't find it in myself to be an adoption advocate. And I think that's ok. I am not anti-adoption. If I were, I would not be adopting! I have mulled it all over quite a lot and decided that I fall in the middle somewhere. Pro-adoption for kids that have been relinquished and are in need. Whose surviving parent made an educated choice or who do not have a willing surviving relative. But anti-adoption when it is provided or promoted as the only, or even the "best" answer. The be all, end all.

~A

Choices

Last night I lay in bed thinking about the photo I posted of baby N from Thailand.

N was the youngest of three sisters that I fell in love with during the course of our family tracing and reunification project. One of the very last projects post-tsunami.

N and her sisters were Burmese. So they were illegal. undocumented. marginalized. invisible. They did not receive the services they should have as the Thai families were assessed and offered government help immediately after the tsunami.

Three years ago, N's mom was just 22 years old. Her oldest daughter was 7.

Her husband an alcoholic.

N's mom was wasting away.

She did not have the option to give her child up. I don't think it would have even crossed her mind. She held N constantly-I never saw the two apart.

Baby N slipped through the cracks and died without any fanfare just a week after our project wrapped and I went home to the States. I was told that mom took her two girls and returned to her family in Burma which was the plan we had helped her to make prior to leaving.

I spent many hours over the course of many weeks in really crappy public hospital waiting rooms with that little family of women. Mom never spoke one word aloud. She whispered yes or no to the translator. She just sat and stared straight ahead. Her eyes were completely empty. I remember that she carried baby N to the squat toilet with her - she never would put her down or hand her over for a break. She was clearly exhausted.

There were a few times when we thought mom and baby had rallied but in the end, when I last saw them in another hospital waiting room (no hospital would actually admit them since they are undocumented migrants), N had wasted away to just 3 pounds at 6 months old. She slipped. She was gone. Is it odd to say that she was at her most beautiful just before the end? She was breathtaking and perfect.

Is this what women of the world are reduced to? Child marriage. Abusive husbands. Zero power. Zero ability to ask for help. Voiceless. Disease ridden. Ashamed. Carrying their dying babies until their last minutes on earth?

We talk about these stories from Africa but I promise you this is a world-wide epidemic. The female burden. I wonder if it is ethical to share these pictures on a public blog? But then I think about how this mother's story would have never been told if I weren't writing it today. I probably own the only photos of baby N ever taken. She represents millions upon millions of others.

I have no answer other than this: we need to recognize the women of the world. We need to stand in solidarity. We who have power and resources need to offer women options that work in many areas of their lives. We have to offer more than adoption.

I say this with all the transparency of a future adoptive parent. I want a child. But I do not want to take a child from her mother's arms. I just don't. N was beloved. N died. I cannot find a way to bridge that gap and make everything right if only I could have just taken her for my own.

Is it courageous that some women choose to give up their children? Yes. Can I stand to hear stories of women begging foreigners to take their babies because they can't fathom that anyone will help them keep the children alive? No. We talk a lot about choice in adoption but the tragedy is that there are not nearly enough choices offered to most mothers in this world.

So. What now? I feel convicted by my own story. Baby N reminded me of a piece of humanity I have let slip a little in this endless wait.

I don't want baby less. But I so want every mother to have the right to keep, nourish, sustain, and love her own child. That should just be a basic human right.

~A

My Thai Life

End of January and I feel restless. Working from home I am watching the gray sky, skeletal trees, and crusty snow outside the window. I admit to peeking at homes for rent/sale in Thailand today for a tiny break.

I blame this 'end of January restlessness' on a pattern that has been created over the past 3 years. It is a pattern of travel that has whisked me out of the hateful U.S. winter and into three amazing overseas experiences. All took place in February. My least favorite winter month. Now I feel I have a right to just leave in February!

In honor of that first year, and the most amazing experience of my life, I will write about Thailand.

(Bang Niang boatyard-J helped on the larger boat)

Three years ago today I was packing to move to Thailand for 5ish months. I remember the suitcase and hiking pack lying open in our bedroom in DC. I was determined not to forget a thing or end up feeling rushed with the packing. Bit by bit the bags filled up with with essentials for life in southern Thailand: flip flops, cotton skirts and khaki pants for work, sunscreen and bugspray, lots of books to read, immodium AD.


Snowstorms kept sweeping through the east coast and my February 14th departure date was pushed back to the 15th. (It was a nice Valentine's Day gift.)

I had been to Thailand before. I taught ESL in Bangkok for a summer between my Sophomore and Junior years of college. I knew that it would be hot, uncomfortable, smelly, crowded, and did I mention HOT? But when I arrived for this 5 month consultancy I quickly realized that I was having a new and improved, adult, Thai experience. I was staying in a lovely air conditioned hotel with international buffets. I was traveling by air conditioned taxis. I was treated to great food in premier restaurants for the Chinese New Year. Mmmmm. So good to be back as an adult.

(Thai junk food that I lived on in college - cha dam yen cold tea and sticky sweet rice.)

It was a life-changing five months. I was operating in my dream job. Working for my dream organization. I was trusted, allowed to manage the pilot project in the way I saw fit, manage my staff (and let some go when I needed to!), and live independently but with enough money to make it very comfortable.

And did I mention that this job was located in rural southern Thailand? Otherwise known as Paradise.

After a few days of meetings in Bangkok I flew with my new team to Khao Lak. The area one hour north of Phuket (world class tourist destination) that was hardest hit by the tsunami two years earlier.

(My beloved little baby blue house - see Talay peeking over the green pillow?)

I remember my first night in Khao Lak. Living in a guest house near the beach with my team - before we found our own local housing. I walked down the sandy road to the water. It was still tourist season and the resort terraces were filled with laughter, twinkle lights, and the smell of cooking seafood. I stood down on the endless sandy expanse and threw my head back to stare at the stars. It was glorious. I had never felt so lucky.

(The elephant photos-taken in Chiang Mai - Best Day Ever.)

It was sometimes lonely though. Often uncomfortably hot or annoyingly rainy. It was challenging. It was hilarious in hindsight but frequently bitterly annoying in the present.

It was poignant and emotionally demanding. Dogs came into my life. Dogs died.

A baby came into my life and that same baby quietly left this life.

Looking back I can see how God used that heartbreaking time for good in our own adoption. Baby girl had the same (life threatening only if left untreated) condition we have requested in our adoption referral.

Adults/coworkers/tourist aquaintances came and went with shocking frequency in such a short period of time. And while all of the coming and going swirled around me the days and minutes crept by, made slow and sluggish by the unrelenting heat.

It was lonely at times but it was exhilarating. It was the most beautiful place I have ever been. I was fully alive. I spent sunset walking on the beach almost every evening. When I needed a break from it all I took my scooter down the road to Le Meridien resort and drove in pretending to be a guest. These solitary breaks with a beach chair, soft towel and fruity drink kept me sane.


I went to a Burmese wedding. I made two friends that I will have for life. I learned how to order gas for my car in Thai. I drove a manual (giant) truck on the left side of the road with gusto. I became tan and thin and warm. I learned to open coconuts on my house gate and drank a lot of fresh juice. My tongue became strong enough for red chilies. I got stung by a jellyfish and laughed it off. I learned the subtleties of managing Thai and Burmese staff when you are neither subtle, or Thai or Burmese!


I did not save any children as the name of my organization would suggest I should have been doing. But I did a good job on the project and left knowing that we had accomplished what we set out to do. And I saved one small golden puppy who is sitting by my side right now.

(Top-the puppy lost. Below-the puppy saved.)

It is hard to believe that three years have passed. I was a tiny blip in the huge post-tsunami response that spanned approximately three years. And I know that many people gave up a lot of time and resources to be there for much longer doing much more impactful work for a lot less reward.


But I can claim a tiny piece of Khao Lak/Bang Niang as my own. And I miss my lifestyle there. I miss watching J (who took 6 weeks leave of absence to join me for awhile) create pieces of furniture from bamboo rods in our little covered driveway. I miss my tiny Shangri-la and my view from my office window.


Life was lived so fully that year. There was nothing more I wanted and I miss that feeling. I miss the wild drive weaving through the hills and jungly countryside between Khao Lak and Phuket. I miss the challenge of navigating Bangkok for my monthly meetings. I miss the ease with which I could hop on a plane to anywhere in southeast Asia.

(An awe inspiring trip to Angkor Wat in Cambodia with J.)

I remember the last flight. The last flight from Phuket to Bangkok and the taxi ride I took to my hotel for my last round of meetings. The song on the radio "take me home, my country road, to the place, where I belong..." It was ironic. It was nostalgic. But the consultancy was over and I was no longer needed. I was desperately ready to go home. But desperately wishing to stay forever.

I didn't know I would be back to Bangkok exactly one year after I had first arrived, but that is a story for another day...

~A

Exciting! Crazy?

I thought back when I was 23 that I wanted a baby. (Mostly triggered by nightime hormone induced dreams of being pregnant.) I thought the same at 24 and 25. But really I wanted the idea of a baby. I wanted a distraction, cute baby clothes, a shower, playdates. I wanted to choose a baby name. I wanted all of the things that really mark the difference between being pregnant and wanting to actually parent. I know that is true because the baby desire went into hibernation once we moved to DC, once I was in graduate school, we were traveling the world, and life was fun and flexible. I was really thankful the baby dream had not come true. I think the "baby dream" is similar to wanting a wedding and truly understanding the concept of marriage.

Do you want to know how I know we are ready to be parents now?

I know because last night we (and by we I mean J was fully on board) became a certified emergency foster home.

When you are truly ready to parent and nurture and deal with all of the difficult details of caring for a child and loving them through everything...when you become ok with the idea of your cream colored living room rug being destroyed and puke possibly ending up on your beautiful couch...when you know that dinner will now need to be served at a regular time every evening and that you may be consigned to 2 minute showers...then you are ready.

J noticed the news about Haiti 2 weeks ago and had concern about the orphaned children very early on. We know that children will probably not be brought to the U.S. for foster care. And we know that children need to be processed through tracing and reunification efforts now in Haiti. We support the international community in following well established guidelines on caring for children after complex emergencies.

But I think something about the entire situation struck a nerve with both of us. So many people in our country are so very willing to care for Haitian children if they were to come here. But there has always been a huge need for foster homes. If everyone interested in fostering Haitian children would become certified as foster homes for kids in their areas, well, wow! that would be amazing for the foster care system.

We didn't have to do much to turn our international homestudy into certification for foster care. It was easy! Next week we will sign the final papers, take our first aid class, and then we will be put on a list as foster parents.

We offered to be an emergency home for either gender up to age 3. Our area has a very large Spanish speaking population so my Spanish might come in handy.

I feel a great sense of peace and calm about this. Why struggle and struggle to overcome the desire to nurture and have a child in our lives when we can easily offer ourselves in this way while we wait for our daughter from Ethiopia?

I don't know if we will get a placement. But it could happen at any time day or night. Children come into foster care for all types of reasons. We would be the first home in an emergency and a placement could last 1 week - 1 month, or more if we chose. Ideally the child would be united with extended family or placed in a long-term foster home (with a family willing to adopt if needed after the whole process of reunification or termination of parental rights took place.)

I am eager to see what happens.

I think there are a lot of what ifs and contingencies and possibilities involved but for now we're answering a call we feel strongly about. And for me this is an answer to years of prayer about J's attitude towards fostering. I was a foster care caseworker for the first 2.5 years of our marriage. I know what a difference a good foster home, even a temporary one, can make.

Exciting! Crazy?

~Amanda

Back to the Past

Exactly one year ago I was packing to leave for a two week trip to Ethiopia.
I went to visit projects that promote and enhance family or community-based care for orphans and vulnerable children.

It was an honor, really, to see the amazing work of Ethiopians caring for children.
It was an honor to create relationships that keep me connected to Addis Ababa.

I looked at the calendar tonight and I can't believe one year has gone by. I can't believe that I have been to Ethiopia twice in 2009 and that next time I'm there it will hopefully be to meet our daughter.

When I whine and complain about the dripping of time I forget sometimes to take into consideration the way that one year has flown by. That this time last year, as I packed for Ethiopia, the thought of adopting from Africa had not even crossed my mind....

~A