New Hôm Nay

Well, this seems to be the theme of the day. Here is an article from our local news site detailing an adoption scam right here in our state.

http://www.ksl.com/?nid=148&sid=5246995

Sad.

This book, a novel by Joanna Catherine Scott, tells the story of "what really happened" to the parents of 3 Korean siblings who were adopted to the U.S. when the oldest was 6 or 7. I liked it a lot. I thought the author did a great job of making you feel like you were in Korea. A couple things stuck out to me as odd or not very realistic, but otherwise it was an enjoyable, if heartbreaking at times, read. It's one I won't soon forget. And yes, it did make me cry. :-)

I also started reading one called Then She Found Me by Elinor Lipman. I saw that Helen Hunt is making a movie out of it and it was adoption-related so I thought I might like it. It's about a woman who is "found" (almost more like "stalked") by her biological mom 30+ years after she placed her for adoption. So far, I'm only 3 or 4 chapters in, but it's only so-so. The characters are pretty one-dimensional so far, and not particularly likable, at least not yet. There are a lot of references to the bio. mom as the "real" mom, which bugs me just a wee bit, as you might guess it would. :-) Not that she isn't "real," but you know what I mean. I wonder if the author has any personal connection to adoption or just thinks it's an interesting topic and makes a good story.

Today Sam turns TWO!

His babyhood is disappearing even faster than Alex's. It's been harder to focus in on all his endearing little traits, to keep track of all his milestones, and just to be completely present in the moment with him every day as I felt I was with Alex when she was my only one. I suppose it's a natural thing that happens when you go from having one child to two, and it's not as if I can't pay enough attention to each of them (most of the time). It just takes more conscious effort.

Sam's Korean mom is really in my thoughts today. I admit that most of the time, what with the constant demands of working and keeping up with the kids, I don't think so much about the fact that somewhere in Korea are a man and a woman who have a direct biological connection to Sam. But today I will let my thoughts go there...what are they doing today? What does his mother remember about this day? Did she hold him when he was born? Did she cry when she had to put him in the care of another, or was she more numb, or perhaps feeling a mixture of relief and regret? What does she think about on this day? I wish I knew whether she has ever showed up at the agency to see his pictures or read our letters. I wish I could see her face, and the face of his Korean father. I wish I could take a peek at his dad's hands and feet and see if that's where Sam gets them! I wish I could know a lot more about them. Maybe someday.

Happy birthday, my precious little Samwise. We love you immensely. And we wish the best for your Korean mom and dad, whoever and wherever they are.

Last night Alex was snuggling on the couch with me and asked if I would sleep in her bed with her. I said I would snuggle for a few minutes, but I can't sleep in her bed all night. She said, "When I was a baby, you slept with me." I've told her about how, when she first arrived home with us, I slept in her room with her because she missed her foster mom. She has been bringing up Korea and her foster mom recently, on her own initiative. I'm amazed at how much she remembers of what we've told her, but I'm not sure how much she really understands.

So, while still snuggling on my lap and right after talking about her foster mom, she looks into my eyes and says something like, "Promise you will never go away, mom. You have to PROMISE." (I don't remember the exact wording and her grammar is a little off...and I don't remember her ever using the word "promise." Wow.) I said, "I promise I will never leave you." And she said, "No, promise you will never go away ALEX." Did she mean "give away Alex"? Was she worried that she will be "given away" again? I told her I will always be her mommy and she will be my girl forever. That seemed to satisfy her.

I've been thinking about this a lot last night and today. It was a poignant moment, a glimmer of her first conscious processing of what had to happen for her to be adopted. :-( I'm sad to think she might be worried that her status as our daughter could ever be in jeopardy. :-( In combination with the comments she made last week, telling us out of the blue that she was "junk" - and now apparently wondering if she could be "thrown away" or "given away" ? I wonder if the adoption explanations we've tried to give have been misinterpreted? I remember reading a study that showed that 3-5 year old Korean children, adopted as infants, were worried that they might be taken away again. These concerns were generally not shared with their parents and in all respects they were well-adjusted, happy kids.

We've always been matter-of-fact about her adoption and have tried to make sure she understands where she began her life and how she came to be our daughter. But - no matter how delicately you couch it - when you tell a child that her first mother could not be a mother to her, and so she was taken to a new family - does she automatically, if unconsciously, conclude that she is somehow not valuable? That it was her fault? I suppose this would be a rational conclusion, and I've seen it expressed by adoptees before. I naively hoped my kids would somehow escape it. I also didn't expect to see these questions or fears quite this early.

I've briefly questioned the wisdom of our telling Alex her adoption story at this tender age. But only briefly. I still believe in my heart that honesty is the best policy, that by telling her the facts (at age appropriate levels) we are enabling her to understand and integrate her past with her present, are allowing her to question us with the expectation of receiving truthful answers, and are creating an environment in which dialogue can occur without an overtone of secrecy or shamefulness. As sad as I am to think she might be fearful or feel not valued, I would be even more sad if she did not feel she could express these things to us.

And so I plan to get my ducks in a row and talk to her again, sometime in the near future, about her adoption story. Her 3rd arrival day anniversary is coming up in May, so we'll probably have another discussion around that time and look at her lifebook pictures. This time, I may be more careful to emphasize that her first mother (and father) could not take care of ANY baby - and that being adopted means she belongs with us forever. I have to anticipate the "Why" questions this time, too - so I pray I can answer in a way that affirms her. Wish me luck!

In the midst of the Christmas season, with all the shopping and the lights and the cheery music, I am haunted today by two images which have reached around the world to me. It would be easy to forget them, and in prior years I probably would have been able to, at least with more ease than I can now. The needs of the world are overwhelming, and it becomes too hard to think about them all the time. But this year, these two images are lingering in my mind.

The first is a picture of several children at an orphanage in South Korea. The picture was taken recently by an adult Korean adoptee who writes for the NY Times Relative Choices blog (http://relativechoices.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/11/27/south-korea-and-its-children/). She was adopted at age 3 and grew up in the US. Seeing these kids, she wrote, "Looking at those children I could not help but think: I got out."

As great as it is that we were able to adopt Alex and Sam, in slightly different circumstances they could easily have ended up exactly where these children are. They could be the kids in that picture.

The second image is a black and white photo of a baby in a North Korean orphanage, sent to us by Holt International. They have been supporting orphans in North Korea for about 5 years, but this year, due to flooding on top of famine, hundreds of children are starving - and dying in terrible numbers. There is no heat in the orphanages; children are huddling together for warmth. Milk is so scarce that staff workers are grinding rice and grain into powder for "formula." After recently reading about the conditions in post-war South Korea in the 1950s, it strikes me that after all this time things are just as bad in the North--even worse, because they are cut off from many sources of aid that were available in the South. Once again - if Sam or Alex had been born just a little north of where they were - they could be the ones in these photos. The thought brings tears to my eyes.

There is normally little opportunity to send aid from the US to North Korea, due to government policies and other factors. I hope Holt will collect a lot of donations for its North Korea program (see https://www.holtintl.org/gifts/). As for us - how could we say no?

Last week Bryan, Alex, Sam and I traveled to North Carolina for our annual family reunion. For some reason, we seemed to attract more attention than I remember getting recently. (Maybe Sam's noisy squawking and running in all directions contributed...) Anyway, all during the trip, a lot of people (strangers) commented on how beautiful our kids are. At first I didn't really think much about it, because of course they ARE beautiful. But then, while walking around Blowing Rock and the mall and other public places, I kept overhearing conversations springing up around us that had to do with adoption. I began to suspect that we are being noticed more because of our "blendedness" as a family. It's the old "living in a fishbowl" phenomemon we were warned about. You may think you are just out doing normal things all families do, but like it or not, you attract attention, and you might as well get used to it.

One man approached us in the airport and said his daughter and her husband were considering adoption. He wanted to know how much it cost. I usually love talking to people about adoption (shamelessly promoting it, of course), but I am starting to balk at the "cost" question especially when it is being discussed directly in front of the kids. I want to be honest - yes, adoption does involve fees - but it seems pretty tactless to quote numbers - like putting a pricetag on your kids. And really, if you just met someone who had required infertility treatment to have a child, would you ask them (in front of the child), "So, how much did you wind up paying?"? I read one adoption magazine article that suggested, when asked how much you paid to adopt, to ask the questioner how much they paid for their house! I haven't done that yet but some day I may find the nerve. For now, my answer to the "cost" question is something like, "After the tax credits, it costs about as much as having a baby in a hospital" and "A substantial part of the fees go to support other kids in orphanages who are not adopted."

That said, it still saddens me that adoption fees are often high enough to be out of range for a lot of decent hardworking families. I bet a lot more kids would be adopted if the fees were lower. Once I read that for every healthy baby that needs a family, in the US there are 25 couples looking to adopt. No wonder international adoption is so popular. I also read that before Roe v. Wade, the demand for adoptable babies was pretty much equal to the supply. I'm not sure what adoption fees were back then, but it would be interesting to know.