Adoption Blogger Interview Project

I started my blog last year because I wanted to participate in the Interview Project organized by Heather at Production not Reproduction. I had a great experience last year, and another fantastic experience this year. I was very fortunate to be paired with the blogging pioneer who writes American Family. I had read her blog before and thoroughly enjoyed her writing style, insights, and humor. She is one of the few bloggers I know who has an open adoption with her daughter’s birth family in China. Her blog and her answers to my questions should be read by anyone considering searching for their child’s birth family in China. She tells it like it is and doesn’t gloss over the hard parts. She writes about M, her daughter through birth; L, her daughter through adoption; and Mr. A, her husband. You can check out her interview of me here. Happy reading!

1) In a blog ("Today") from April 2011, you wrote this: "I was afraid when we met [L's first parents] I would feel jealous of their biological bond. I was afraid she would feel more theirs than mine. Now that we know them, it turns out that I don’t feel jealous at all. In Reunion, I feel their loss magnified by my everyday life with L." Is this still an accurate reflection of your feelings? How does knowing L's first parents impact your day-to-day life?

I don't know. It has been about a 1.75 years since we last saw L's family and nearly 2 years since we located them. Things have...settled down, I guess.

2) What is one piece of advice you would give to other adoptive parents who want to search for their child's Chinese parents?

This is a hard question because I am torn between thinking most adoptive parents should not search and feeling it is a massively bad decision if they don't. (Yes, I realize this is completely hypocritical!)

Given how hard building this relationship has been for *me* and the ways our situations is a best case scenario, I tend to think that maybe it is best to leave things be for most American adoptive families. In our case, Mr. A speaks some Chinese, we are already somewhat used to dealing with Chinese culture in our extended family, the birth family loves and accepts L and our family, we all want what is best for L, their exposure to western culture, their (lower) middle class status...none of these things are necessarily typical and all of them have a huge impact on our ability to manage our openness.

Opening L's adoption has been incredibly emotionally challenging for both families. To get through the hard times, it takes unwavering commitment. So many adoptive parents start searching without thinking through the long-term ramifications, it makes me very, very worried. If we are a best case scenario and I was as prepared for openness as I could be (we are and I think I was), what will happen in the worst-case scenarios where adoptive parents are not at all prepared?

We owe it to our children to not screw this up for them and screwing it up would be very, very easy to do. Open domestic adoptions are difficult enough, but openness when you are trying to bridge language and culture and class? It is a massive undertaking.

On the other hand, if we don't search early, the odds of our children ever finding their birth families drop drastically. If our children happen to be the ones for whom Knowing is a burning desire, what if our delay or reluctance to search costs them that option? This conflict is something I try to talk about when I get asked to talk about open international adoption. Adoptive parents don't necessarily want to hear it.

My best advice is EDUCATE YOURSELF. You have to believe without a doubt that openness and knowledge is better for your child. You have to commit to the long-term even though the short-term is hard. You have to know that searching won't take away the pain and loss of adoption, it only adds different losses. You have to know that you will be responsible for maintaining contact and building a relationship on your child's behalf, even it if is hard for you. Then when your child gets older, you will have to get out of the way.

Another thing adoptive parents need to know is there is no easy way to search. You can't just pay someone to search for you and expect to be successful. It has happened a few times, but it is RARE. If you want the easy way out, you probably shouldn't search at all because the search is what prepares you for what happens next. You need to build local contacts and begin dealing with actual Chinese people. If you aren't comfortable putting yourself out there, how are you going to build a relationship with total strangers who are also your child's parents?

Finally, my advice is also that the adoptive parents' choice to search does not make them the owners of the information they find. This information belongs to our children. It is *their* story--even the bad parts. There are people who are profiting from searching in China who promote searching and then withholding the information that is found from adopted children until they specifically request it. I find this appalling on so many levels.

One reason we searched was because I wanted L to know she could trust us. I wanted her to know I our love for each other does not depend on the removal of her first family from her heart or her life. My love is not conditional on me being her only mother. By sharing her history with her, I am telling her there is nothing shameful about her story, the way she joined our family or where and who she came from.

L's place in our family is not what keeps her from her birth family, she is the person who brings us together. Her family is OUR family.

Sorry for the very long response. I can't really give one piece of advice, because I have too much to say about this topic.

3) You are raising one child who came to you through birth and another who came to you through adoption. How has this impacted your view of the nature v. nurture argument? Has meeting L's first parents helped you better understand your daughter in any ways?

M, my biological daughter, has always been very much like I was at her age so I can see the nature written all over her. L (adopted daughter) has always been her own glorious self which comes from somewhere or someone other than me. M reads, L draws. M is uncoordinated, L runs like she has been training since she was two. L love sparkly girly clothes, M is pushing the envelope if she wears a tshirt with a picture on it. They are just very different girls. Then again, my sister and I were always like night and day and we shared genes and grew up in the same house, so who can say what the real reason is?

I do wonder how different L would be if she were raised with her birth family or with another adoptive family. Is she naturally this funny or do we bring it out of her because funny is clearly a quality we value? If she grew up in a more athletic family, would she be some kind of peewee league phenom? Her mom was pretty quiet when we met and her dad was obviously very charismatic. I can see both those qualities in L.

While it isn't exactly what you asked, I will admit that meeting L's birth family gave me a lot of peace of mind about her size. She came to us in the 50%ile and she was quite chubby. After about 6 months, she started falling down the growth chart and ended up around the 10th%ile after wearing size 3 clothes for three years. (She is barely a 5 slim now at 6.5). I used to fret about this, because who comes home from an orphanage and shrinks?? Now that we met L's parents, I know for a fact she gets her body type from her baba. He is small and wirey and terribly handsome, just like L. Her little brother was also a chubby cheeked guy when we met him. I haven't seen pictures lately, but I would be willing to bet he has slimmed down in the past two years too.

4) You are a blogging "pioneer," having written your first blog post back in 2003. You write that you are now considering ending your blog. How has blogging impacted your life over the last nine years?

By far, the most important thing I got out of all this blogging was really great friends. I have friends both here and far away who I met through my blog. When you meet someone in real life who has already read the nitty gritty deep dark secrets of your psyche, it cuts through the bullshit formality pretty quickly. Most of my good post-childbearing friends are somehow connected to me through my blog (or through someone else who I met through my blog). I am never would have predicted it, but the people inside my computer have changed my life for the better in immeasurable ways.

5) What are some of the highlights and low points of yor blogging career? What will you miss most if/when you stop blogging?

The low point was the time my homestudy got put on hold because some jerkface called my agency to say I was inappropriate on my blog. Those were fun times. (http://american-family.org/2007/03/23/backtracking/)

I think this post was one of the highlights ( http://american-family.org/2011/01/30/answer/ ) It is moments like that will make me miss blogging. I wouldn't remember that moment so clearly if I hadn't written it down.

That post changed lives too. When I wrote about the reunion and showed that photo of L in her mama's arms, things started to shift. My blog is only read by a small number of people, but it only takes a few seeds for a movement to begin. Sharing our story has been hard, but I hope my honesty has helped those searching be prepared for what happens next.

6) What are the most challenging aspects of raising children of a different race? How have you dealt with these challenges?

I think the hardest part is knowing I can't walk through this world for my children. They have to go on this journey in the skins they were born in. Sometimes the world is not going to be kind to them and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. I try to give them the tools they need to feel good in their own skin, to fit in with others who share their experiences and help them be proud of who they are.

I also lean heavily on Mr. A's experiences as an Asian American and follow his lead when I can. For example, today we were listening to Gangnam Style in the car. We all talked about how amazing it is to Mr. A that a Korean song is on the radio in America in his lifetime. The girls were surprised to hear that Asians were not so common where Mr. A grew up. We talked about some of the reasons that was hard for him and how he got through it. I am so grateful the girls have Mr. A to relate to. He can give them something I just can't, no matter how much I try.

7) Has anyone or anything ever made you question whether you made the right decision in searching for L's parents? If so, how did you deal with the uncertainty?

When I was struggling with the ways open adoption changed my life, I regretted searching. Honestly, though, that was just me selfishly wanting my life to go back to normal. Now that things have settled down, we have a new normal and I don't regret it at all.

Even in my darkest, complainingest days, I knew we did the right thing by searching. I believe that our decision might have changed the whole trajectory of L's life. It also gave comfort to her parents who had no idea what might have happened to her. As a mother, the idea of not knowing where my children were or if they were safe haunted me and was one reason I searched.

Both L and her family still have the burden of distance and loss, but now they have the peace of mind of knowing at least they are all safe. L will know the Whys of her story, even if she can never understand them. She will deal with one heartbreaking story rather than 50 possible heartbreaking stories. I hope L will not be afraid that wanting to know her birth family or loving them will cause pain to Mr. A or myself.

I know it was the right decision to search because we were successful. Knowing what I know now about the path we followed to find L's family and their personal circumstances, I know that a successful search would have been much much more difficult in 10, 20 or 30 years. The decision to not search could have sentenced her to never knowing her family or why she didn't remain with them.

Most of all, I know that it was the right choice because L's parents love her. She has a right to know it. More than anything else, that is what searching gave us all. They love her and miss her. She deserves all the love in the world. I am glad we could give them to her while she is still young enough to accept their love, without the complexities that will come from negotiating adoption issues later.

8) If you had a day all to yourself and could do anything you wanted to do, what would your day look like?

Since both girls are finally in school full-time, I am pretty much left to my own devices on a typical weekday. As an introvert, I feel like I have died and gone to heaven now that no one is up in my business all the time!

I like to get up and have a nice long cup of hot coffee and listen to NPR. Some days I run on the treadmill. Then I generally putter around the house and get stuff done. I also really like to read (mostly nonfiction) and watch TV (documentaries or British TV seem to be on heavy rotation lately). On a really lovely day, I convince a friend to go out for lunch. I am a simple girl who likes peace and quiet.

If we were talking about a fantasy day, this would all take place in a hotel room where I was able to sleep in a giant bed comfortable bed all by myself.

9) I love your attitude of "live and let live" and "to each his/her own" ... it comes across very clearly in your writing. Is there any position on an adoption-related topic that makes you feel compelled to tell someone they have it wrong?

I think I must come across as "to each his own" on my blog now because I have been doing this for so long. I have long given up trying to make people in the computer understand why I think I am right. It is just a waste of energy!

In real life, I am pretty judgmental. I am an INTJ personality type. I was reading about my type and came across this: " Thinkers usually have trouble interacting with people who are inconsistent or illogical, and tend to give very direct feedback to others. They are concerned with the truth and view it as more important than being tactful." I am logical and I research obsessively. Once I gather information, I decide what I believe based on evidence and that is that.

People on the internet are illogical and it is true that I am not always tactful when I believe someone else is wrong, so it is easier to not say anything. I read other blogs and see adoptive parents making the same stupid mistakes and making terrible parenting decisions. They have been doing the same dumb stuff for the past 10 years. When you blog, people come to pick arguments, people are critical, people write all kinds of stupid stuff in the comments that are annoying. (Other people are also wonderfully kind and supportive in the comments, too.) I can be that person or I can just move on with my life.

I am too tired to fight those kinds of battles any more. I am also at the point where I know that what I don't know is huge too. I would say this is part of the reason I am done blogging. My attitude is "Go ahead, screw up your own kids. I am too busy trying not to screw up mine to care!"

I do kind of miss the good old days when I could fire up a big rant about someone else, but I am just not that into it any more.

10) In "My 122 Things" (which I love!), you end with these three items:

120. So now I am trying to figure out if there is another Big Thing in the future.

121. I don’t feel like a need a Big Thing so much any more, so maybe not.
122. All my Little Things, they might just be enough.

It looks like you last updated this list in March of 2011. It's now November 2012. Are all of your Little Things turning out to be enough? Is there another Big Thing?

Oh, I think there will always have to be a Next Big Thing or maybe several smaller biggish things for me. I don't know what the heck I was thinking when I wrote that! I think I was mourning the loss of moving to China as a possible Next Big Thing. It wasn't meant to be and I was bummed.

Right now, the Next Big Thing is definitely building our new house. We bought our last house because it had an attached vacant lot in the perfect location. I spent two years updating the old house and we sold it this summer. Now we are living in a rental house while we save up a wad of money to pay for the new house. Building is apparently very expensive (!).

This is the boring time of the Next Big Thing for me: the preparation. I have a jar of 600 stones and I get to remove one each time we save $150. Once the jar is empty, we get to start building. The beads are still at the top of the jar, so it will be a while! In the meantime, I obsessively draw house plans and look at house building information on the internet and in books. Mr. A is not looking forward to the building process at all. I kind of dread it myself, but this is the house I want to live in until I am old and in a nursing home, so we will try to get it right.

Open Adoption Roundtable #40

The Open Adoption Roundtable is a series of occasional writing prompts about open adoption. It’s designed to showcase of the diversity of thought and experience in the open adoption community. Click here to read other responses to the prompt.

What were your reasons for choosing open adoption? (Or, for adoptees, what are your reasons for continuing to invest in your relationships with your first family?)

In the spirit of full disclosure, I didn't choose open adoption -- it chose me. However, I have embraced open adoption more than I ever could have imagined. Our adoption agency presented us with a closed adoption when they first contacted us about Lily. The social worker indicated that this is what Lily's birth parents wanted when they decided to place Lily the day she was born. Seven days after we picked up Lily from the hospital, we were asked to open the adoption, and we agreed. I had wanted an open adoption from the start, but agreeing to one after placement created a lot of anxiety for me -- I was agreeing to start an intimate relationship with a family I had never met. I didn't even know their names, and the open adoption being requested involved multiple visits a year until Lily was 18 years old.

We began with an agreement to have two visits a year and send pictures and updates once a month. After our first visit, something changed inside of me, and I started hoping that the number of visits would grow. The fear that I had seven days after Lily was placed with us was gone and replaced with an intense desire to keep this relationship between my daughter and her first parents going, and going strong. They needed her, and she needed them. I believed that my job as Lily's mother was to create an environment where that relationship could grow and flourish.

As the number of visits grew, so did my relationship with Fiona and Nate and Fiona's extended family. Lily is what connected us, but our friendships took on dimensions that extended far beyond sharing a daughter. I blogged last spring about the fact that Fiona lived with us for five weeks. I recently held a birthday party at our house for Lily's biological great-aunt. I see Lily's birth grandmother several times a month for drinks, brunch, or zumba. They are my family and friends, and my life is so much richer because they are in it.

There was no way for me to predict how open adoption would unfold for our family. Like every other family in an open adoption, we took a leap of faith. I embrace open adoption because I believe in its value for Lily, for Fiona and Nate, and for me, G, and Ferb. It's not always smooth sailing - nor is any relationship - and I recognize that it's easiest for me and G, the adoptive parents.

I've read the writings of people who are anti-open adoption, and they seem to think that open adoption means that someone will always be looking over your shoulder and judging your parenting of their child. I can't say I have never felt this way ... there are times when I wonder what Fiona and Nate think of something we've done with regard to raising Lily ... but it would never cause me to close the adoption. That attitude seems incredibly self-centered. It seems like dealing with our own insecurities and a little discomfort now and then is the least we can do for people who have suffered the great loss of placing their child.

Biology, heritage, roots ... these things do matter. I don't believe those elements in and of themselves guarantee a good relationship between two people who share them, but they are elements that help form our identity. I can't imagine keeping Lily away from her family, people who love her and are connected to her in this very special way.

Round Hole, Round Peg?

I haven't posted in quite a while - not because nothing was new in my adoption world, but because I was thrown off-kilter by my own family (of origin) issues. I am part of a step-family, and with step-families and families formed through adoption, we become "family" to people with whom we don't share a genetic link. Adoptive parents (for the most parent) choose to parent a child. Step-parents don't make that choice. Simply by marrying someone with children, a person becomes a step-parent -- at least in name, and often in expectation.

My step-family is not new. My father married my step-mother almost 25 years ago, when I was still a teen. The relationship between my step-mother and me was dysfunctional from the start. And while I learned to manage the relationship over time, the foundation was never strong. We were -- and are -- very, very different people. Me trying to mesh with her was like the old cliche: trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. I really did try to adapt. And I became pretty good at it. But it was never good enough, and an incident this summer caused everything (and everyone) to unravel terribly. I'm not sure if these relationships will ever be repaired, and I'm coming to believe that is for the best. Some relationships just don't work. And sometimes, there are so many hurt feelings -- so much emotional damage -- that the relationships are beyond repair.

It was my experience as a step-child that made me very anxious about getting into an open adoption when we adopted Lily. I was opening myself up to relationships that were based on another person - my daughter - and I feared bringing another set of problems into my life. What I didn't consider at the time (pre-adoption) was how my daughter might feel. Pre-adoption, I was a big believer in nuture. Three plus years post-adoption, I think we're 90% nature. What I should have considered is ... what if my daughter feels like fitting in with our family is like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole? I know that process well, and it's pretty miserable.

I'm certainly much more aware of significance of "nature" now, and I constantly remind myself that I need to give my daughter room to grow as an individual -- to be who she is, even if it is nothing like me, G, or Ferb. Ironically, the benefit of having such an open adoption is that I get to see older versions of the people with whom Lily shares her genetics. And I feel lucky that we all connect on such a deep level. I have become close friends with Lily's first mother and grandmother, and it amazes me how similar we are -- we love to laugh and joke around, we're all sarcastic, we have similar views of the world. We don't share the same race or religion, but we are remarkably similar in spirit. We talk about it all the time. Perhaps, by chance, we will be one of the lucky ones, and Lily's round peg will fit easily - at least most of the time - into our round hole. As I know, only time will tell.

Happy Birthday, Lily

We celebrated Lily's third birthday last weekend. It was her biggest birthday bash yet. In attendance from her biological family: her mother and father (Fiona and Nate), grandmother, great-grandmother, great-grandfather, great-aunt, and three cousins (all from her mother's side of the family). From her adoptive family: her mother and father (G and me), grandmother, three aunts, two uncles, and two cousins. Lots of little friends came, too. The party was in our backyard and the weather was nice. Everyone mingled; everyone gazed at Lily in amazement; it was crystal clear that Lily is one loved little girl. And Lily loved everyone right back. While she may not understand how we are all connected, I believe that she does recognize in some way that she has connected us all. Lily has enriched our lives in more ways than any of us could have imagined.

Lily's birthday party also represented a day when (I think) a lot of people outside our open adoption began to understand how open adoption works. Families are formed in many different ways, and ours is no different.

As the adoptive parents, G and I had the responsibility of setting the tone for our open adoption. We opened our arms and our doors, and Lily's first family felt welcome to come in. It wasn't something that came naturally to us from the get-go, I admit that freely. But as Fiona helped Lily open all of her gifts while Fiona's mother wrote down who got her what and I took pictures, it felt just as natural - perhaps even MORE natural - than that type of event has felt with my own extended biological family.

Roundtable #38: An Open Letter to Anna Jarvis

The Open Adoption Roundtable is a series of occasional writing prompts about open adoption. It’s designed to showcase of the diversity of thought and experience in the open adoption community.
Click here to see how others have addressed the prompt below.

Mother’s Day is coming soon in many countries, and the intersection of adoption and that holiday can stir up a lot of different emotions. Write to someone else in the adoption constellation (someone specific or a general group). What do you want to say to them on Mother’s Day?

Dear Ms. Jarvis,

From what I've read, you had the best of intentions when you began your campaign to make Mother's Day a nationally recognized holiday. I also understand that you too became disappointed in what the holiday had become by the 1920s, only shortly after you had reached your goal. For me, this holiday has been a thorn in my side for as long as I can remember.

As a child and teenager - disconnected from my biological mother and victimized by my step-mother - I spent countless hours agonizing over Mother's Day cards. With my biological mother, none of the cards described my relationship with her. In fact, reading through them only made me realize what I was missing -- someone who was always there for me, someone who loved me unconditionally, someone who always saw the best in me.

With my step-mother, early on I was punished after being told that the card I got for her was "cold." Apparently, she wanted mushy - a card that somehow proved that I loved and appreciated her. So the process of choosing Mother's Day cards each year was something I came to despise. And the fact that my birthday always falls on or around Mother's Day served to take joy away from that holiday, too.

Fast forward to my early 30s, when my husband and I received a diagnosis of infertility and started pursuing IVF treatment. While most of my friends were at Mother's Day brunch with their adorable children, I was secretly injecting myself with hormones and feeling like a complete failure. I remember calling into my office a few days before Mother's Day, and the receptionist said to me (in a very chipper voice - she had no idea what I was going through): "Too bad you won't have anything to celebrate on Sunday. You need to start pumping out some kids!" It hurt. A lot.

Eventually, I did go on to have two children -- a son through IVF, and a daughter through open domestic adoption. My daughter Lily was also born in early May, and our adoption was closed for the first week of her life. I remember my first Mother's Day with Lily. I didn't know anything about Fiona, Lily's first mother, except for her first name. And that first Mother's Day, she was all I could think about - the hole in her heart, the yearning she must be feeling to hold her baby in her arms. My gain was her loss, and I hated the fact that I had no way to reach out to her. Of course, things changed shortly after that, and for the last two Mother's Days, we have reached out to each other and wished each other a Happy Mother's Day. But the truth is, I think we'd both be much happier if the pressure to celebrate our motherhood wasn't there.

In a very slightly altered reality, I would be childless. And while I feel incredibly lucky to be the mother to two amazing children, I don't want or need a special day to be thanked for doing something that I was dying to do for so many years. I am privileged to have this very special role. I am thankful for it every single day.

There's an irony in the fact that Mother's Day, my birthday, and Lily's birthday all fall within seven days of each other. Ms. Jarvis, I know you can't really help with the effort, but any tips on how to start a campaign to end Mother's Day?

Terribly Tongue-Tied

I'm a planner and I like to be prepared. This is in part a conscious process on my part, and also a result of the fact that I am a chronic worrier and I tend to reflect (and reflect again) on everything. I consider myself fairly well-read and knowledgeable when it comes to issues related to adoption. I blog, I read lots of blogs, I read articles, I read books ... the degree to which I have researched adoption has been somewhat of a source of pride. I've been telling Lily her adoption story since she was born. I've made Lily a book about her adoption and I've read her children's books about adoption. We have a very open adoption with both of Lily's first parents and some extended family members. And that's why I am absolutely devastated that I totally blew it when I had my first real opportunity to react to my daughter when she expressed her first opinion about her adoption.

Lily is two; she turns three in a few weeks. One of Lily's favorite things to do is look through the 700+ pictures and videos I have stored on my iPhone. The vast majority of them are of her; there are also a lot of Ferb and some of other family members, including Lily's first parents, Fiona and Nate. Last night Lily and I were home alone and she was once again going through all the pictures and videos, and we came upon a picture of her and Nate in which she almost looks like Nate's clone. I said something to the effect of "you look so much like Nate in this picture," and I could tell that her mind was running, but I wasn't sure where. I don't remember what I said after that, but the next thing I know Lily is looking me right in the eye with a sad/annoyed look on her face and saying, "I look like mommy and daddy. I no want to be adopted."

Well, it was as if everything I have learned about adoption over the last 5+ years was suddenly erased from my brain and I don't even remember exactly what I said, but it wasn't good. I was scrambling for words and I think I said "don't be sad" and "it's not bad to be adopted." And then I hugged her and told her how much I loved her. Honestly, I'm just mortified at the way in which I handled the situation.

I can't stop thinking about what happened: Is it typical for a two-year-old to express an opinion about her adoption? I nearly fell off the couch when she expressed her feelings so clearly to me. I want to believe it's a good sign that she felt comfortable expressing her feelings, but I can't stop kicking myself for my lack of a good response. Instead of validating her feelings, I was so sad to see her hurt and eager to make her "feel better." After so much preparing, why was I so UNPREPARED?

I'm interested in any advice as to where to go from here. Again, Lily is only two years old (almost three) and any conversation with her has to be age-appropriate. While it might make me feel better to bring it up again and try to revise my initial response, I think that's a bad idea -- it will be very out of context for Lily and she may not even remember our initial "conversation" about it. Perhaps it's best that I wait until she brings it up again, and start preparing a better response now. And honestly, what is the best response to a two-year-old who says, "I no want to be adopted"?

Under One Roof

Adoption agencies tell prospective adoptive parents that open adoption doesn't mean we'll all be living together as one family. It doesn't mean that first parents will show up on our front doorsteps asking to move it. We laugh nervously, not sure how to envision the hypothetical open adoption. We wonder how all the members of the triad fit together, especially when we involve multiple extended families.

Almost three years into our very open adoption -- one that has unfolded in ways I never could have imagined as a prospective adoptive parent -- Lily's first mother asked if she could live with us temporarily. I was hesitant to tell the outside world. I knew our decision to say "yes" wouldn't be understood or well-received by a lot of people. Ultimately, that didn't really matter to me. What mattered was being there for Fiona.

Fiona needed a place to live. I won't go into the details that led Fiona to that point. That's not my story to tell. But one can imagine that the circumstances were not good.

So what is it like to like to have your daughter's first mother live with you for five weeks? In some ways, it was oddly normal. There were many times when it felt no different than having a sister or close friend live with us. There were a lot of laughs. Can't breathe kind of laughs. It was comfortable. It was really nice.

Sometimes it was emotionally draining. Those who live it know that open adoption can be simple and complicated in the very same moment. There were nights when I cried by myself. I think I may have sprouted a few more gray hairs.

I learned a lot about Fiona, and in turn learned a lot about my daughter. We met Lily for the first time when we picked her up from the hospital when she was one day old. I knew very little about what had transpired up until that point. Now I know a lot. And as painful as it is to know, I'm glad I do. I still believe that it's better to know the truth, no matter what that truth might be.

Living with us also gave Fiona a chance to bond with Lily in a way that she hadn't been able to in the past. I saw her become more relaxed and comfortable around her daughter. Lily's love for Fiona grew, too. That was a huge positive.

Fiona and I became closer friends. We know more about each other. We're more trusting of one another. We know that we have each other's back, even (and especially) when times get tough.

I certainly am not advocating that every adoptive and first family move in together. What I am left with is this -- open adoption and the relationships that form within it are no different than those formed in other aspects of life. Only time will tell how those relationships evolve. Everything is on the table. There are no universal rules.

Not many understand the fact that I have willingly invested myself in Fiona's life, and that does continue to bother me. No one would question me if I told them that my mother, sister, brother, aunt, cousin, close friend, etc., etc. was living with us temporarily.

Although I told only close family and friends about the situation, I received several "Won't that confuse Lily?" comments. Why would nearly three-year-old Lily be confused that her very sweet and loving birthmother was staying with us for a few weeks? To Lily, right now Fiona is another person in her life who loves her to pieces. I don't get it. They don't get it.

I still have so much to learn about adoption and its impact. As unusually close as we are with Fiona and several members of her extended family, we still have never met Nate's extended family. They don't even know about Lily. That continues to really bother me, too.

I believe I will look back at our five weeks with Fiona as another turning point in our open adoption -- one that brought us closer and solidified our union as "family."

Complicated

It's been quite a week in my adoption world. To say adoption/open adoption can be complicated seems like the understatement of the century right now. I don't feel comfortable blogging about much of what's going on. While I am involved and it's all directly or indirectly adoption-related, it's not about me.

Open adoption can draw you into relationships that extend far beyond the one with your child. There are birth parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts and uncles, step- and half- relatives. It can draw you into family dynamics, some dysfunctional, that can involve mental and physical illness and trauma. I've never been sure if I believe that everything happens for a reason, but the events of this week have made me wonder if the universe pulled me toward Lily for more than one reason. 

My involvement and my desire to help has been completely voluntary. I know there are people who would tell me I am going too far in trying to help, but I don't care. At the end of the day, I have to do what I feel is right, and turning the other cheek on people I love just isn't an option for me. I know I can't fix everything. I know that my help won't necessarily make things better in the short-term or the long-term. But Lily's family is my family, and that's the only thing that seems simple right now.

Open Adoption Roundtable #34

The Open Adoption Roundtable is a series of occasional writing prompts about open adoption. It's designed to showcase of the diversity of thought and experience in the open adoption community. You don't need to be listed at Open Adoption Bloggers to participate or even be in a traditional open adoption. If you're thinking about openness in adoption, you have a place at the table. The prompts are meant to be starting points--please feel free to adapt or expand on them. Here is the most recent question posed at Production Not Reproduction. You can read more responses by clicking here.

This roundtable prompt comes from a first mom in an open adoption who no longer blogs but wanted to hear what others had to say on the topic.

She was thinking about her reasons for placing her daughter and how she handles sharing (or not) that information with the people in her life. She realized that her daughter's adoptive parents were often asked that same question by people (i.e. why she chose to place) and she wondered how they answered. This started her thinking about how others handle that choice of what to share and whom to share it with, especially when they are asked to speak on behalf of another party in their open adoptions.

It is likely that we've all had that experience at some time: someone asking us to speak to the choices or feelings of others in our adoption constellation. Perhaps it is someone asking a first parent how their child feels about being in an open adoption. Or someone asking an adoptee why their adoptive parents chose to adopt. You get the idea.

How do you handle such questions when they are asked of you? How would you want the other parties in your open adoption to handle those questions when they are about you?

Lily's adoption doesn't exist in a vacuum. I don't have an envelope or box of secret information that I will reveal to her at age-appropriate times. We have a very open adoption with Lily's first family. Many of them live within 10-15 minutes of our home and visit with us often. Lily's first grandmother has been to our house three times this month (and I think she'll be here again for our Super Bowl party on Sunday). Members of Lily's first family have shared information with members of my family and G's family -- information that I didn't even know. When we first got the call about Lily (the day after she was born) and I was scribbling down notes as the agency social worker explained the situation, my in-laws were at my house (visiting from out of town) and within ear shot of my conversation with the social worker and then my conversation with G. My point is that a lot of information surrounding Lily's adoption is "out there" -- information about me and G, and information about Fiona and Nate. I say it's "out there" in the same way that information about me and my two sisters is "out there" among members of our immediate and extended families. When an open adoption does become fully integrated, I think there's less of a decision as to what to share and with whom because information within many families and circles of close friends flows freely.

When we first met, Fiona asked us why we chose adoption and I explained our struggles with fertility and the fact that we had conceived Ferb through IVF. If a member of Fiona's family or a friend of hers asked her that same question about us, it would not bother me at all if she gave them the answer. As an advocate of open adoption, I believe it's important to share information -- to educate society about what open adoption means, how it works, and how it can have an incredibly positive impact on all members of the triad, but particularly the adoptee. I also think that by being open when people ask us sincere questions, we are removing the taboo associated with adoption. I would never share information about Fiona or Nate if I thought the person asking had bad intentions or would use that information in a negative way. And if you ask anyone who knows me, they will tell you that I simply can't talk about Fiona or Nate without going on and on about what amazing people they are. There are aspects of our relationship that go beyond the fact that we share a daughter, and I love both of them as individuals.

The question I get asked most frequently -- and I believe it's because people I talk to are making an effort to really "understand" open adoption -- is whether it's hard for Fiona and Nate to see Lily and then say good-bye to her. I usually answer the question this way: "I can't imagine that it isn't hard for them. It must be. But they are incredibly strong people who love Lily as much as G and I do, and I know they would make any sacrifice for her and do things for her even if it's hard for them. They handle every visit with an incredible amount of grace, but in my gut, I know it's hard for them."

I will say that in the almost three years since our adoption, only one "stranger" asked us a question that made me uncomfortable. It happened when Lily was only a few months old. (I recently mentioned it this post.) We have a transracial adoption and it's clear that Lily was adopted, but I can only think of few instances when a stranger asked me a question about our adoption, and in all of those cases, the people asking were also adoptive parents and the questions were not directly about Fiona or Nate.

"I would like her near me on the bus."

I've been blogging for a few months, and this will be my first post related to the fact that we have a transracial adoption. Lily is multi-racial. Both of her first parents are bi-racial. Lily is black, white, and Filipino, among others. G, Ferb, and I are white.

I've read extensively about transracial adoption. I've gained the most insight from adult adoptees who grew up in transracial families -- particularly those who grew up in "Whitesville." We live in an extremely diverse area. On an average day, we may see more people of color than white people. We have a diverse group of friends, and my great-uncle was black (he passed away a couple of years ago), so some of my extended family members are black. We have a collection of black dolls that rivals the doll collection at any store. We have a large book collection that includes stories about transracial families, famous people of color, folk tales from around the world, different skin colors, hair types ... the list goes on. And we have a very open adoption, so Lily knows and regularly visits with her first mother, father, and maternal grandmother.

I'm not naive - I know that despite our best efforts, Lily will deal with issues related to the fact that she is a different race than her immediate family members. I think I'm as prepared for that as one can be before actually being in the situation in which those difficulties present themselves.

We've had very few comments made to us about our transracial status. One surprising comment was made when Lily was only a couple of months old -- I was caught off-guard. After that, I prepared myself with an slew of possible responses; only no one has commented to us about it ever since.

We talk to Lily about race, about the fact that we have different skin colors. One day she picked up my hand and said, "Mama's hand white. My hand brown." I smiled, I told her she was right, and I told her that I love the color of her skin.

Some of Ferb's friends have been curious. When I've picked him up after school, I've heard kids ask him how his sister "came out" black. He explains that she is adopted. One night Ferb had a group of kids over to our house for a club meeting. Lily came into the room wearing her pajamas. One boy asked, "Is that your sister?" Ferb replied: "Of course that's my sister! Why would she be in my house wearing her pajamas if she wasn't my sister?" He understands that people wonder, and I see in him an effort to make sure everyone knows that Lily is just as much his sister as any sister would be. Lily and Ferb have a very special relationship that is far deeper and close than anything I could have imagined before I had children. More on this point --

I found a worksheet in Ferb's school folder the other day. (Ferb is in second grade.) It was a worksheet asking the student to answer a series of questions about Martin Luther King, Jr.  - when he was born, where he was born, etc. Here's the last question and Ferb's response:

Why do you admire this person?
I admire this person in my very own way since my sister is black. I would like her near me on the bus and I want her to go to my school.

What Could Have Been ...

About a year and a half into our adoption, I decided to schedule a session with one of the counselors at C.A.S.E. (Center for Adoption Support and Education). We had zero support from our agency when it came to open adoption -- they essentially told us we were on our own, and when we pressed them for help, the "help" was so counterproductive that we quickly ran. When I made the appointment, I think I was seeking input from a professional because I wanted to know if I was doing things right when it came to our open adoption. I had learned so much from reading blogs and books and talking to friends of friends, but I yearned for a face-to-face conversation with a professional.

I spent the first part of the meeting telling the counselor our story, how we had applied to adopt from China, withdrew after several years of waiting, and then updated our homestudy for a domestic adoption on the off chance that our agency got a call from a local hospital, which happened (according to them) once every few years. We never thought it would actually happen, but then it did, and we were quickly thrust into a situation without any guidance from our agency. The counselor agreed that the agency was inept at best, but thought that everything that had transpired once we (G and I and Fiona and Nate) were on our own sounded very positive. Our adoption would definitely be described as very open, and while we've definitely hit some rough patches, we've built a solid relationship with one another that has helped us navigate through the tough times. We're family.

After I finished my story and she validated that things seemed to be going as well as could be expected, I suddenly broke down in tears, surprising even myself. It took me a while to compose myself and then, perhaps, I finally talked about what I think was really bothering me. I explained that every time we get together with Fiona and Nate, or even when we communicate, I'm fine during the visit and/or communication, but after it's over, I fall apart ... feeling very sad and depressed and sometimes crying for quite a while when I had time alone. The counselor asked me why. And then I said it out loud for the first time.

I see the three of them together -- Fiona, Nate, and Lily -- and I see the family that could have been. And it's heart-breaking. I feel the loss at such a deep level. And then I feel confused. If that loss didn't exist, then Lily wouldn't be my daughter ... so by feeling sad about their family that could have been, am I essentially feeling sad about the family that is -- my family. My daughter that wouldn't be my daughter if Fiona and Nate hadn't lost their daughter. It made my head hurt just saying the words.

The counselor then told me two things:

First, the fact that I feel, see, and recognize the loss is a quality that will make me a good adoptive mother as Lily gets older. She told me that most of the people she sees regularly are teenage adoptees who are struggling. And one of the main reasons they struggle is because their adoptive parents either don't get it -- they don't understand WHY their child feels a sense of loss -- and/or they take the child's feelings of loss as a sign of betrayal -- a sign that they, the adoptive parents, aren't good enough. The counselor pointed out that the feelings of confusion that I was having -- the deep sense of loss over the family that could have been juxtaposed with the pure joy I feel that Lily is my daughter -- is the same kind of conflicted emotions that adoptees have. I get it.

Secondly, she told me, just like adoptive parents who don't give their children room to grieve their loss, I need to be careful that I give Lily to space to feel whatever she feels. Certainly her adoption will affect her in some way -- that's a given -- but how it affects her, how she processes and views it (which could change at various points in her life) ... I need to be sure that I give her the space to feel what SHE feels, and it may not be the same way I feel. I understood what she said, and reading the writing of adult adoptees has definitely helped me understand that no two people will ever feel the same way, and I need to support Lily wherever she is with her feelings at any given time. As with everything, I will always do my best to do right by Lily, but it struck me right then and there that if she doesn't end up having a good relationship with Fiona and Nate (or if she feels angry with them or even neutral/nothing toward them) ... it will be hard for me.

Nate and Fiona came over last month and I took what I think is the most amazing picture of the three of them. It's adorable and perfect and I love looking at it. Sometimes I look at it and start to cry. And then out of nowhere Lily jumps into my arms and we roll around and tickle and laugh ... her laugh is so happy and pure and I just want to bottle it up. And I feel myself smiling from ear to ear with the teardrops still sitting in my eyes.

Remembering a Great Man

A few days ago I ran into one of my neighbors at a local Starbucks. I met her in 2008 when she and her husband Don volunteered with me on our neighborhood team working to elect Barack Obama. Don was a soft-spoken man, but he had so many important things to say. I was always impressed with his calm demeanor and his way of diffusing difficult situations. He had an adult son with special needs, and my heart melted when I watched the two of them together. He was an amazing father; he was a good person with a special soul. He was very Zen. He was the type of person you felt lucky to know. While I didn't keep in close touch with Don and his wife after the election was over, I frequently ran into them in the neighborhood and we'd stop to have coffee or chat with one another whenever we had the chance.

So I was absolutely floored a few days ago when I ran into Don's wife at Starbucks and she told me that he had passed away. He had been diagnosed with the late stages of pancreatic cancer and there wasn't much that could be done. I still am having a hard time believing that he's gone.

There was something else very special about Don. After we adopted Lily, it was normal for us to run into friends and acquaintances in the neighborhood and get some surprised looks when they saw us with a baby. I clearly hadn't been pregnant and I wasn't at all offended by people's interest in how Lily came into our lives. In my 60-seconds-or-less version, I always mentioned the fact that we have an open adoption, that Lily's birth parents live locally, and that we would be having an ongoing relationship with them. I did this in part because I wanted the rest of the world to know that open adoption is happening and it's not something that should be shocking or something that we should be afraid of.

The response to the fact that we have an open adoption has often been "that's so nice of you," which of course sets off all sorts of alarms inside of me. I would explain that we are the beneficiaries of Lily's adoption, and having an ongoing relationship with her wonderful first parents is the natural thing to do. (After all, no one tells me how nice we are to facilitate a relationship between our children and my sisters and parents.) But when I told Don about our open adoption ... for some reason, I don't remember exactly what he said, but I do remember thinking that his reaction to our open adoption was different. He also complimented us, but in a different way. It wasn't until the third of fourth time I saw him after we had adopted Lily that he told me that he had been adopted as a baby, too. And so had his sister. He told me that his sister had searched and searched for her birth parents but never found them. He gave me the impression that it had somewhat broken her. He also told me that he never had the motivation to search for his birth parents, but I could see in his eyes how happy he felt for Lily that she wouldn't ever have to search, or think about whether or not to search.

The world lost such a wonderful person when Don passed, and at the risk of sounding childish, it's just not fair that he had to leave so soon. Adding to the heartbreak is the fact that his birth family never got to know what an amazing person he was. What a tremendous loss for them.

I will think of Don often. I will remember his smile, his witty remarks, his fighting spirit. His passing reminds me how thankful I am for all the people in my life, for my family that grew in such unexpected ways. It's a bittersweet new year. I'm ready for 2012.