When we were initially looking into adoption, we discussed the pros and cons of international vs. domestic adoption, whether we were hoping for a boy or girl, and if race mattered to us. After determining that a domestic adoption was the right choice for us, we decided the rest (sex, race) should be left up to whomever or whatever was looking out for us.
As luck would have it, we were blessed with a healthy, beautiful, African American baby girl. Living in a relatively diverse neighborhood (for Portland anyway) and having friends of all colors, races, and sexual orientations, we were completely comfortable (and even thrilled) to have a child of a different color. We felt marginally equipped going into it to handle any challenges and are continually trying to make sure we are doing right by our daughter by celebrating our differences and our sameness.
When we decided to adopt baby number two, we knew we wanted to do a domestic adoption again, but this time, we also knew we want to adopt a baby of color.
Our concern was that we didn’t want Ava to feel singled out in our already “unique” family. We thought if we have two children of color, they could discuss racial issues with each other, should there come a time when they aren’t comfortable talking to their white parents about how they are feeling (I hope they’ll always feel they can talk with us about anything—and I will continue to work hard on this—but I’m not that naïve!).
So, we held out for a long time to bring home a baby of color. Our agency, as it turns out, doesn’t get a lot of African American women through their doors, so the wait was long. There were other opportunities to adopt along the way, but we politely declined. It just didn’t feel right. Those who have adopted I think will agree that there is a feeling you get about “your” child. You just know.
So, along comes our son, Kamari, the birth child of a multi-racial (black, white, Native American, and Greek) couple, and low and behold, he’s the whitest multi-racial baby we’ve seen. Ha!
Seriously though, he’s pretty darn white, and at first, I was a little upset about it. I realize how awful that sounds; believe me, I’m not proud. It’s just that I had my daughter’s possible future feelings in mind and was being a protective mother, worrying about how she might react one day. I was being unnecessarily over-protective.
What I’ve realized these past few months, as I watch Ava with her brother (that many may have realized way before me), is that it doesn’t matter and really, I have no control. While I do think we made the right choice in “holding out” for a child of color, the two kids will bond in other ways, have other things in common, and have other differences (beyond the color of their skin, and the obvious, their gender).
We have no control over how Ava will or will not feel. In fact, there’s more evidence to suggest she may have bigger issues with Kamari’s relationship with his birth family (where she, as of yet, has no relationship with hers) than with the color of our family’s skin.
And so, alas, another lesson is learned. With all things in life—especially when it comes to raising children—I just need to let go of my expectations and let life happen. Things have a funny way of turning out the way they’re supposed to all on their own—without help from me.
January 29, 2010
January 11, 2010
What’s In a Name, Part 652
Our son’s name is Kamari. Yes, Kamari, pronounced just like it is spelled: kah-mar-ee. I love the reaction we get from some people when we tell them his name. Head cocked to the side, quizzical look on the face, nose scrunched up, followed by: the birth mom chose it, eh?
I guess that’s to be expected, after all the “drama” we went through with our daughter’s name. [Recap: birth mom hated the name we’d chosen, birth mom made threats, and on and on until we settled on “Ava” (which she loved). To put it mildly, it was a painful ordeal]. And with “Kamari” being a bit (just a bit!) more unique than Ava, I can see how people might wonder where the name came from*.
Actually, we found the name, and then chose it (with a little help). And the reason I wanted to write about it was because the process by which we chose the name—with help from our birth mom and dad—was actually sort of fun, and such a contrast to our first experience. So, to those who, like us, have struggled with the whole naming thing, I wanted to share our story.
Our agency coordinator, knowing that our son’s birth mom had a name in mind that she loved (and we did not), suggested that all four of us write down the names we liked and bring them to a meeting that she would facilitate, just to see what happened. For the next hour, we tossed around our names, and one by one picked through them, laughing and joking about things like the kids we’d known (and didn’t like) with some of the names. Finally, we narrowed it down to four names, two of which happened to be from our list and the other two from the birthparents’ list.
One name was quickly eliminated because it was, coincidentally, the name we’d chosen for the child we’d hoped to adopt in August '08 (our daughter’s birth sibling) that fell through, and that just didn’t seem right. Another was a tongue-twister when paired with our last name. Out of the remaining two, we were leaning slightly toward the other, but the birthparents loved “Kamari.” We mulled it over with our last name and it worked, so Kamari was it. For fun, I made everyone sign the piece of paper with “Kamari” circled and all the other names crossed out—you know, to make it official and all—and that’s going in Kamari’s baby book.
As for a middle name, none of the other names from the list worked with “Kamari” and our last names (it would have made for about a 15 syllable name!), so we all stared at each other, stumped, until my husband remembered that through the course of our conversation, we’d learned that both our birthmother and birthfather have the same middle name: Lee. My husband threw that out as an option, and the birthparents were truly flattered; it just seemed right. So, Kamari Lee it is.
As if naming a child isn’t hard enough (coming up with something you and your partner can agree on), add to the mix a birthmother and sometimes even a birthfather, and you get several opinions going at once, which could potentially be explosive—as I’ve mention a time or 652, naming is very personal.
I understand there are lots of birthparents out there who don’t care to be involved with the naming process; that just hasn’t been our experience. But, if you can remain a little open-minded about it (open-mindedness when it comes to names?? certainly not my strong point), it might just work out and the process might actually be fun. I was mentally prepared to go into battle once again this go ‘round, but was pleasantly surprised by the birthparents’ openness to different names. I even surprised myself. “Kamari,” like “Ava,” was not my first choice. But both names have really grown on me and the names we had originally chosen now don’t seem right.
What do you know? Apparently I have grown as a person through this experience. Yay, me!
I guess that’s to be expected, after all the “drama” we went through with our daughter’s name. [Recap: birth mom hated the name we’d chosen, birth mom made threats, and on and on until we settled on “Ava” (which she loved). To put it mildly, it was a painful ordeal]. And with “Kamari” being a bit (just a bit!) more unique than Ava, I can see how people might wonder where the name came from*.
Actually, we found the name, and then chose it (with a little help). And the reason I wanted to write about it was because the process by which we chose the name—with help from our birth mom and dad—was actually sort of fun, and such a contrast to our first experience. So, to those who, like us, have struggled with the whole naming thing, I wanted to share our story.
Our agency coordinator, knowing that our son’s birth mom had a name in mind that she loved (and we did not), suggested that all four of us write down the names we liked and bring them to a meeting that she would facilitate, just to see what happened. For the next hour, we tossed around our names, and one by one picked through them, laughing and joking about things like the kids we’d known (and didn’t like) with some of the names. Finally, we narrowed it down to four names, two of which happened to be from our list and the other two from the birthparents’ list.
One name was quickly eliminated because it was, coincidentally, the name we’d chosen for the child we’d hoped to adopt in August '08 (our daughter’s birth sibling) that fell through, and that just didn’t seem right. Another was a tongue-twister when paired with our last name. Out of the remaining two, we were leaning slightly toward the other, but the birthparents loved “Kamari.” We mulled it over with our last name and it worked, so Kamari was it. For fun, I made everyone sign the piece of paper with “Kamari” circled and all the other names crossed out—you know, to make it official and all—and that’s going in Kamari’s baby book.
As for a middle name, none of the other names from the list worked with “Kamari” and our last names (it would have made for about a 15 syllable name!), so we all stared at each other, stumped, until my husband remembered that through the course of our conversation, we’d learned that both our birthmother and birthfather have the same middle name: Lee. My husband threw that out as an option, and the birthparents were truly flattered; it just seemed right. So, Kamari Lee it is.
As if naming a child isn’t hard enough (coming up with something you and your partner can agree on), add to the mix a birthmother and sometimes even a birthfather, and you get several opinions going at once, which could potentially be explosive—as I’ve mention a time or 652, naming is very personal.
I understand there are lots of birthparents out there who don’t care to be involved with the naming process; that just hasn’t been our experience. But, if you can remain a little open-minded about it (open-mindedness when it comes to names?? certainly not my strong point), it might just work out and the process might actually be fun. I was mentally prepared to go into battle once again this go ‘round, but was pleasantly surprised by the birthparents’ openness to different names. I even surprised myself. “Kamari,” like “Ava,” was not my first choice. But both names have really grown on me and the names we had originally chosen now don’t seem right.
What do you know? Apparently I have grown as a person through this experience. Yay, me!
January 04, 2010
8nt Texting Gr8? LOL
I just realized I’m inadvertently and unwittingly teaching my daughter what I consider to be a bad habit: incessant texting. Let me start by saying I hate texting, really I do. Not only is my cell phone ill-equipped to properly do the job in an even semi-timely manner, but I prefer to actually converse with people.
Believe me, I understand why people like it. You can quickly and easily let someone know you’re on your way, running late, whatever. I get it. And in the beginning, I thought it was sort of cool that our birth mom texted (that’s not even a real word!) me at least once a week throughout her pregnancy, and really cool that she texted me during labor (“getting ready 2 push…”). No joke. (Though I later found out that the text reading: “In delivery, head almost out” was actually written by the birth father, it was still cool.)
But now our son is four months old and I’m still getting texts. Several texts a week. And if I don’t respond within a couple of hours, I get the same text again.
People who know me well know I’m not a cell phone user. I basically have it for emergencies. I prefer good, ol’ fashion communication; you know, talking on the (land line) phone or face to face. Even emailing. So this texting several times a week (several texts per exchange, of course) is making me crazy. But more importantly, it’s turned my four year old daughter into a texting maniac.
Using a piece of paper, her plastic princess phone (*groan* given to her by our neighbor), or even her palm, our daughter texts her (make believe) sister, her “boyfriend” as she calls him (the 14 year old, yes 14, next door that she has a crush on), or even our son’s birth mom. She does this at the dinner table, in her bedroom, in the car. At first it was kind of cute. Look at our daughter, all grown up and texting, I’d said to my husband.
But that’s just it. “All grown up” at four. Call me old fashioned, call me behind the times. Whatever. Pre-teen, teen, young adult—it comes at you fast. The longer I can keep my kid a kid, the better in my opinion.
Yeah, it’s just texting, what’s the harm? It’s not so much the “harm.” It’s just that I want to raise children that interact and engage with others, not bury their noses in cell phones, texts, computers, video games. They can bury their noses in books, that’s cool with me.
Okay, it seems I’ve gotten a bit preachy; not my intent. (sorry!) My daughter takes her cue from me and here’s what’s on my list for 2010: less texting, more talking.
Though I will admit, I think it’ll be pretty cool for our son to read all the texts his birth mom sent during the three months prior to his arrival (I’m writing them out and saving them in his baby book). Oh how the adoption times have changed!
Believe me, I understand why people like it. You can quickly and easily let someone know you’re on your way, running late, whatever. I get it. And in the beginning, I thought it was sort of cool that our birth mom texted (that’s not even a real word!) me at least once a week throughout her pregnancy, and really cool that she texted me during labor (“getting ready 2 push…”). No joke. (Though I later found out that the text reading: “In delivery, head almost out” was actually written by the birth father, it was still cool.)
But now our son is four months old and I’m still getting texts. Several texts a week. And if I don’t respond within a couple of hours, I get the same text again.
People who know me well know I’m not a cell phone user. I basically have it for emergencies. I prefer good, ol’ fashion communication; you know, talking on the (land line) phone or face to face. Even emailing. So this texting several times a week (several texts per exchange, of course) is making me crazy. But more importantly, it’s turned my four year old daughter into a texting maniac.
Using a piece of paper, her plastic princess phone (*groan* given to her by our neighbor), or even her palm, our daughter texts her (make believe) sister, her “boyfriend” as she calls him (the 14 year old, yes 14, next door that she has a crush on), or even our son’s birth mom. She does this at the dinner table, in her bedroom, in the car. At first it was kind of cute. Look at our daughter, all grown up and texting, I’d said to my husband.
But that’s just it. “All grown up” at four. Call me old fashioned, call me behind the times. Whatever. Pre-teen, teen, young adult—it comes at you fast. The longer I can keep my kid a kid, the better in my opinion.
Yeah, it’s just texting, what’s the harm? It’s not so much the “harm.” It’s just that I want to raise children that interact and engage with others, not bury their noses in cell phones, texts, computers, video games. They can bury their noses in books, that’s cool with me.
Okay, it seems I’ve gotten a bit preachy; not my intent. (sorry!) My daughter takes her cue from me and here’s what’s on my list for 2010: less texting, more talking.
Though I will admit, I think it’ll be pretty cool for our son to read all the texts his birth mom sent during the three months prior to his arrival (I’m writing them out and saving them in his baby book). Oh how the adoption times have changed!
November 18, 2009
Not Another Hair Piece
Yes, another. It’s a topic near and dear to my heart—one I deal with daily—and one I’ll likely be talking about for years. I even hosted a three part “hair care 101” workshop in partnership with my daughter’s salon and wrote an article on the importance of hair care for a local organization’s newsletter. But enough about me.
I just want to make a comment on how excited I am to see more and more African American women and children featured in articles and ads (in print and on TV) wearing their hair natural and “out” (as in a sort of afro style, but with a bit more definition in the curls). This is how I style my daughter’s hair most days, usually with a headband or a couple of clips—it’s how she loves to wear her hair and it looks great.
And this is how it looks when I get stopped on the street and asked if I need to be shown how to care for her hair. That said, the ones who are stopping me are older African American women. In other words, ones that grew up in a time when wearing your hair “out” was not accepted and thought of as unkempt. Interestingly enough, younger women comment positively on Ava’s hair.
I wash her hair twice a week. Daily, I wet it down, condition it, pick through it, and put styling cream in it. Her hair is in great shape; her hair stylist (an African American woman) and my black friends tell me so. And it's beautiful.
But, back to my original comment. I'm thrilled to see natural hair featured in magazines and on TV so often these days. There are also a lot of blogs focused on the beauty of natural hair (Motown Girl, Curly Nikki, AfroBella, and Nappturality, to name a few) written by younger women. I hope this is a sign of a shift in attitude toward hair being worn “out;” it seems to be a generational thing with the older crowd less tolerant of natural styles.
I just want my daughter to be proud of her hair—which means understanding the cultural significance behind, and importance of, caring for her hair—no matter what style she chooses to wear it in. And I hope as she gets older, there will be more and more positive role models to help her appreciate the beautiful hair she was born with.
(Full disclaimer: Most of us never appreciate what we have until many years later if at all; born with stick straight hair, I permed mine for years. Finally I'm okay with it now. *sigh*)
I just want to make a comment on how excited I am to see more and more African American women and children featured in articles and ads (in print and on TV) wearing their hair natural and “out” (as in a sort of afro style, but with a bit more definition in the curls). This is how I style my daughter’s hair most days, usually with a headband or a couple of clips—it’s how she loves to wear her hair and it looks great.
And this is how it looks when I get stopped on the street and asked if I need to be shown how to care for her hair. That said, the ones who are stopping me are older African American women. In other words, ones that grew up in a time when wearing your hair “out” was not accepted and thought of as unkempt. Interestingly enough, younger women comment positively on Ava’s hair.
I wash her hair twice a week. Daily, I wet it down, condition it, pick through it, and put styling cream in it. Her hair is in great shape; her hair stylist (an African American woman) and my black friends tell me so. And it's beautiful.
But, back to my original comment. I'm thrilled to see natural hair featured in magazines and on TV so often these days. There are also a lot of blogs focused on the beauty of natural hair (Motown Girl, Curly Nikki, AfroBella, and Nappturality, to name a few) written by younger women. I hope this is a sign of a shift in attitude toward hair being worn “out;” it seems to be a generational thing with the older crowd less tolerant of natural styles.
I just want my daughter to be proud of her hair—which means understanding the cultural significance behind, and importance of, caring for her hair—no matter what style she chooses to wear it in. And I hope as she gets older, there will be more and more positive role models to help her appreciate the beautiful hair she was born with.
(Full disclaimer: Most of us never appreciate what we have until many years later if at all; born with stick straight hair, I permed mine for years. Finally I'm okay with it now. *sigh*)
November 04, 2009
The "Openness" of Open Adoption
The term “open adoption” means different things to different adoptive families, largely due to the birth mother's preferences. For our daughter, her adoption is considered “open” yet we have no contact with her birth mom. We do send pictures and letter twice a year—at the birth mother’s request prior to completing the adoption paperwork—but that’s it, even though we are in the Chicago area, where Ava was born, once a year. We have tried reaching out, to no avail; we’d like have some contact for Ava’s sake.
Enter Kamari, baby number two, and holy cow, “open” adoption has taken on a whole new meaning. As I understand it from our adoption coordinator, this is what open adoption truly is/should be; having not been through this, it’s a bit of an adjustment right now and will take a little getting used to.
So let me back up briefly. We were introduced to our birth parents (yes; birth mother and birth father—not the norm) back in May and then officially matched (i.e. they officially chose us) in June. We didn’t go public with this—even to our families—until the baby was almost born because, well, we’d had one fall through at the 11th hour and we didn’t know how this would turn out.
The cool thing about being matched a few months before the baby was due was that it allowed us time to get to know the birth family (which is the point of open adoption) on our own, without a bunch of questions, raised eyebrows, or the like from family and friends. The concept of open adoption is very difficult for some to wrap their head around, as evident by the hoards of awfully strange (and sometimes inappropriate) questions I get asked all the time.
With open adoption, you have a contractual agreement, which may state how many visits per year you will have with the birth mom (and birth dad if he’s in the picture), how many letters and pictures you’ll send yearly, etc. This is mostly a way to ensure the birth family will be able to obtain some level of contact after the baby is born, the point of “open” adoption. [Note: if you are reading this and thinking this is just too much to handle, domestic (open) adoption my not be for you—it’s important to know your limits, as well as what you’re potentially in for.]
Many family and friends are surprised by our agreement and how many times we “have” to see the birth family. I don’t think of it as “having” to see them. They are our friends now; they are part of our family and will be for a long, long time. I think of them like an aunt and uncle, or really close friends that your child might call aunt of uncle. And, if I stopped to think about how many times a year I see some of my family and friends, I’m sure I’d be surprised by that number—but you don’t think of it that way with friends and family.
In any case, it is different and does take some getting used to. For example, when they are cooing over the baby and calling themselves mom and dad, I sort of feel like a third wheel, which is awkward—obviously I’m not a third wheel; I am mommy.
Also, we are only two months in and see the birth parents a bit more than anticipated (we’re trying to be accommodating knowing this is hard for them). But I know it won’t be this way forever. Right now it’s just so new for everyone. And, the bittersweet reality is that our happiness is their loss. I know for me, that realization helped put a different perspective on the situation; one I hadn’t previously dealt with, with our daughter’s situation. It’s not that I didn’t realize the joy I was experiencing was at the expense of someone else’s loss, it’s that that someone else what not right in front of me on a regular basis.
I am 100% in support of open adoption for many, many reasons. Now that I’m in the thick of it, though, it’ll take some getting used to, but I know the little bit of sacrifice I’ll need to make to add in two more people (people who gave us the gift of life) to our busy lives will be worth it in the long run.
Enter Kamari, baby number two, and holy cow, “open” adoption has taken on a whole new meaning. As I understand it from our adoption coordinator, this is what open adoption truly is/should be; having not been through this, it’s a bit of an adjustment right now and will take a little getting used to.
So let me back up briefly. We were introduced to our birth parents (yes; birth mother and birth father—not the norm) back in May and then officially matched (i.e. they officially chose us) in June. We didn’t go public with this—even to our families—until the baby was almost born because, well, we’d had one fall through at the 11th hour and we didn’t know how this would turn out.
The cool thing about being matched a few months before the baby was due was that it allowed us time to get to know the birth family (which is the point of open adoption) on our own, without a bunch of questions, raised eyebrows, or the like from family and friends. The concept of open adoption is very difficult for some to wrap their head around, as evident by the hoards of awfully strange (and sometimes inappropriate) questions I get asked all the time.
With open adoption, you have a contractual agreement, which may state how many visits per year you will have with the birth mom (and birth dad if he’s in the picture), how many letters and pictures you’ll send yearly, etc. This is mostly a way to ensure the birth family will be able to obtain some level of contact after the baby is born, the point of “open” adoption. [Note: if you are reading this and thinking this is just too much to handle, domestic (open) adoption my not be for you—it’s important to know your limits, as well as what you’re potentially in for.]
Many family and friends are surprised by our agreement and how many times we “have” to see the birth family. I don’t think of it as “having” to see them. They are our friends now; they are part of our family and will be for a long, long time. I think of them like an aunt and uncle, or really close friends that your child might call aunt of uncle. And, if I stopped to think about how many times a year I see some of my family and friends, I’m sure I’d be surprised by that number—but you don’t think of it that way with friends and family.
In any case, it is different and does take some getting used to. For example, when they are cooing over the baby and calling themselves mom and dad, I sort of feel like a third wheel, which is awkward—obviously I’m not a third wheel; I am mommy.
Also, we are only two months in and see the birth parents a bit more than anticipated (we’re trying to be accommodating knowing this is hard for them). But I know it won’t be this way forever. Right now it’s just so new for everyone. And, the bittersweet reality is that our happiness is their loss. I know for me, that realization helped put a different perspective on the situation; one I hadn’t previously dealt with, with our daughter’s situation. It’s not that I didn’t realize the joy I was experiencing was at the expense of someone else’s loss, it’s that that someone else what not right in front of me on a regular basis.
I am 100% in support of open adoption for many, many reasons. Now that I’m in the thick of it, though, it’ll take some getting used to, but I know the little bit of sacrifice I’ll need to make to add in two more people (people who gave us the gift of life) to our busy lives will be worth it in the long run.
October 05, 2009
Can I Borrow Your Shoes?
Being an adoptive mom, I've been asked what I think about the Anita Tedaldi situation. She is the woman would knowingly adopted a child with issues (knowingly being a key word here), and then after 18 months, claimed she wasn't attaching to the baby (and vice versa), and placed him for adoption again.
I learned long ago--especially having been through two adoptions--not to judge anyone unless you have walked in their exact shoes. Cliche, but most definitely true. We, as outsiders, can have no possible way of knowing what someone is going through, thinking, experiencing, feeling, or what circumstances influence the decisions and choices they make.
That said, because my personal opinion was asked, here's how this whole thing makes me feel: disheartened. I believe that when you adopt, that child is your forever child (as they say in the adoption world), just as if you'd birthed the child yourself. And, just like with biological children, you never quite know what you're going to get (for lack of a better way to say it). Some biological children don't attach to their biological parents, and vice versa. Some biological children have severe issues. We just don't have much, if any, control over these things.
But we do have control over how we handle the situations and issues that life throws our way. Maybe Anita Tedaldi really does feel she did what was best for the child; I don't know because I'm not her and I don't know what the situation was really like.
That said, in her own words on the Today show, she said, "I tried to do the same thing [for D] I did with my biological children." I doubt she would have placed a biological child for adoption who wasn't attaching.
Let's just hope there's more to the story than we know and that D has found a loving home. And for the adoption community, let's just hope this doesn't set us back.
I learned long ago--especially having been through two adoptions--not to judge anyone unless you have walked in their exact shoes. Cliche, but most definitely true. We, as outsiders, can have no possible way of knowing what someone is going through, thinking, experiencing, feeling, or what circumstances influence the decisions and choices they make.
That said, because my personal opinion was asked, here's how this whole thing makes me feel: disheartened. I believe that when you adopt, that child is your forever child (as they say in the adoption world), just as if you'd birthed the child yourself. And, just like with biological children, you never quite know what you're going to get (for lack of a better way to say it). Some biological children don't attach to their biological parents, and vice versa. Some biological children have severe issues. We just don't have much, if any, control over these things.
But we do have control over how we handle the situations and issues that life throws our way. Maybe Anita Tedaldi really does feel she did what was best for the child; I don't know because I'm not her and I don't know what the situation was really like.
That said, in her own words on the Today show, she said, "I tried to do the same thing [for D] I did with my biological children." I doubt she would have placed a biological child for adoption who wasn't attaching.
Let's just hope there's more to the story than we know and that D has found a loving home. And for the adoption community, let's just hope this doesn't set us back.
September 30, 2009
Update
I have been quite remiss in posting as of late, but I have exciting news...we brought home our son (baby number two) on August 30!
I have much to write about regarding the experience, the name, having two, etc. I will be back up and running soon.
Thanks for staying tuned...
AKD
I have much to write about regarding the experience, the name, having two, etc. I will be back up and running soon.
Thanks for staying tuned...
AKD
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