A(nother) Sibling for Lily

Lily is going to be a big sister. This sibling will arrive via and be raised by Lily's first parents, Fiona and Nate. It will be their second child.

I believe I was the first person Fiona told about her pregnancy. She told me very early on, and she has kept me very well posted about her pregnancy. While I love Fiona and the closeness of our relationship, hearing the details of this pregnancy has been hard for me. For many reasons.

Of all the dynamics in open adoption, this is the one I've struggled with the most. While almost six years have passed since Fiona and Nate placed Lily with us, many of the circumstances that led them to place have not changed. I assumed Fiona and Nate would go on to have more children (either together or with other partners), but I always hoped that their life situations would be different than they were when Lily was born, giving Lily a clear understanding of why she was placed and her sibling(s) were not.

Lily knows about the baby, as does Ferb. Ferb is VERY excited. We've decided that he will be an honorary big brother to this baby. Lily has not shown much of a reaction to the baby - good or bad. She has suggested a few very cute baby names, and she grasps the concept that this will be her sibling, but this sibling will not live with us. When it comes to adoption-related issues, Lily is always very matter-of-fact about everything. I give her lots of room to share and express her feelings, but she says very little. Looking at her, I think she is processing, but it's just not something she wants to talk about. At least not now.

I haven't quite figured out what my relationship will be with this baby, this baby that may look very much like my daughter. I am worried for Fiona and Nate, and for their baby. I want so much for them to succeed as a family, and I wonder what if anything I should (or could) do to make that happen. I just don't know.

"Generation Cryo" and the Significance of Biology

While searching for something to watch after all of my favorite winter finales concluded, I came across a six-part documentary on MTV called "Generation Cryo." This series follows one teenage girl, Bree, in her quest to find her sperm donor. In the process, she meets and forms relationships with more than a dozen half-siblings conceived with the same donor sperm.

I often wonder what my daughter (now four) and the multitude of other kids being raised in very open adoptions will say about their experiences when they are old enough to express themselves. If parents who used donor sperm wondered this same thing 20 years ago, many of their questions are answered by the teens and young adults in "Generation Cryo." The 12+ offspring of this particular donor express a range of emotions and opinions related to being conceived with donor sperm, and many of these issues are faced by those in the adoption community. There's a donor triad just like there's an adoption triad, and we each have different experiences, expectations, fears, anxieties, and so forth. As an adoptive parent in a very open adoption, I found this show incredibly interesting.

While a few of the kids were very eager to find the donor and learn more about him, other cringed at the idea -- it clearly made them very uncomfortable. Some kids seemed to have animosity toward the donor, as if he had done something to hurt them. Others seemed interested in learning more, but they were clearly worried that their curiosity would hurt their parents, particularly their fathers.

The reactions among the adults varied as well. One father was openly against his kids finding out about the donor, saying that it was a slap in his face - an outright betrayal - and something he never wanted to happen. He didn't want the donor in their lives, and he wasn't even thrilled with the idea of the half siblings coming into their lives. He said that wasn't his idea of "family." From his perspective, this issue was about HIM, and not about his kids. He said many times that he was not open to "sharing" his kids.

It was really interesting watching the relationships between the half siblings develop. Some of them had such instant and strong connections ... the shared DNA could not be denied. They were all incredibly supportive of one another, even if they had different opinions about whether they should pursue a relationship with the donor.

Recently, I've had conversations with a few adoptive parents or people close to adoption, and they have all downplayed the importance of biology. Just like one of the fathers in "Generation Cryo," these people believe that biology is meaningless and not something we should concern ourselves with. (None of them are adoptees, but they all told me they know adoptees who feel this way. Hmm.) Yet as my daughter gets older, I see how much her DNA makes her who she is. As close as we are with her first family, I know she's not picking up their personalities because we spend time with them. Her disposition, her attitude, her likes and dislikes, her sense of humor, her way of dealing with the ups and downs of life ... for the most part, these things were programmed inside of her before she was even born. I don't think I would have realized this if I hadn't gotten to know her birth family so well. If I knew them only casually, I don't think I would have picked up on the nuances in the ways my daughter is so much like her first parents. I absolutely think that our environment plays a role in who we become, but there's no way I can deny that DNA is some strong stuff.

As "generation cryo" comes of age, I hope these kids seek out people in the adoption community who have been saying for years that it is okay to be curious about your biology and to want to know more. It's okay to crave a connection with people who share your biology - it's a natural urge. It's not a betrayal of the parents who raised you to seek a connection with those who gave you life.

I think anyone involved in adoption would get a lot out of "Generation Cryo." It certainly resonated with me.

Sister Moms

I haven't been motivated to write for a while. Our open adoption has become so "normal" to me that I feel less and less motivated to write about it. I'm still an avid reader of open adoption blogs, and they keep me thinking and exploring and (hopefully) preparing me to deal with issues that may arise as Lily gets older.

We recently got together to celebrate Lily's paternal grandmother's birthday, and after the meal, Lily, Fiona, and I walked with Fiona to her place of employment. (Her shift was starting shortly.) We walked down the street, the three of us hand in hand, Lily in the middle, talking about things going on in our lives. When we walked into the place where Fiona works, people smiled and said hello. Many of them know who we are. Lily and I hugged Fiona good-bye and then continued with our plans of the day.

On that day, it hit me again how close Fiona and I have become over the last few years. It feels like we're soul sisters, kindred spirits ... we call each other "sister moms." And when we walk hand in hand with Lily, the best word I can use to describe how I feel is "complete" -- three pieces of a puzzle joined together.

Rebecca Hawkes (one of my favorite bloggers) recently wrote about the fact that ultimately, her daughter will be the one who decides whether Rebecca (her adoptive mother) "hit the mark" in terms of the way in which she handled her open adoption. Rebecca also has a very close relationship with her daughter's first mother. I also read a recent post by Amber, another one of my favorites, who also is very close with her son's first mother. Amber wrote about how an adoption agency told them to "tone down" how open her open adoption is when she and her son's first mother spoke to prospective adoptive parents. I'm fairly certain our adoption agency will never ask me and/or Fiona to speak to anyone (as we'd give them a terrible review), but no doubt we'd be asked to do the same thing if we were invited to speak. I could hear them telling us, "Don't mention that Fiona lived with you guys for a couple of months."

So today I'm writing as yet another voice in the "very open adoption movement" who also believes that Lily has the final say in how this relationship between me and Fiona affects her, and that I will not "tone down" our closeness to make anyone else feel more comfortable. Because my closeness with Fiona and Nate and both of their extended families makes many people feel uncomfortable. And after four plus years, I'm finally starting not to care. That's their problem, not mine.

Gaining a Family

About a week after we picked up Lily from the hospital, we got a call from the agency social worker who told us that her parents wanted to meet us. We had not met yet - everything had been communicated through the agency - and now they wanted to meet us and talk about having an open adoption. The social worker told me what she had conveyed to Fiona, Lily's mother: "I told her that she wouldn't be losing a daughter; she'd be gaining a family."

I shuttered when she said those words. I knew that commentary was wrong and inappropriate on a million different levels, levels that I couldn't even articulate at that time. I wasn't nearly as educated about adoption back then as I am today.

Ironically, the social worker was partially right. Someone in the mix did gain a family -- me. It hit me the other day that I really have become part of Fiona's family. Her parents, aunts, uncles, cousins ... they make me feel like I am one of them. My comfort level with them is as high as it is with my own family of origin, if not even higher at times. They are my people. They are people I can count on. They are people I can sit with and be with without having to say a single word. We have inside jokes, a familiarity with each other's quirks and shortcomings. And sometimes we get on each other's nerves. Just like family.

When we adopted Lily, it never occurred to me that I also would be "adopted" in a new family. It goes to show you that open adoption is full of unexpected surprises.

Four

Four years ago today, G and I met Lily for the first time. We picked her up from the hospital and brought her home, having no idea what was in store for us.

It's hard for me to put into words the joy that Lily has brought me. In my wildest dreams, I could not have imagined having such an amazing daughter. I also could not have imagined the way in which Lily's first family has become my family - people I love with all of my heart. I really can't imagine my life without them in it.

I recognize that everyone who enters into an open adoption takes a leap of faith, and every open adoption is different. I am one of the lucky ones who hit the jackpot. As Fiona said to me recently, we could be the poster family for open adoption. Our families have melded so incredibly well.

Every day that goes by, I become more baffled by the idea that adoption would erase one family and replace it with another. It makes absolutely no sense. Let's stop erasing families and start integrating them.

Society's View of Blended Families

People don't miss a beat when I tell them my parents are divorced and my father is remarried. Divorce, remarriage, step-parents, half-siblings are essentially non-issues in society today. But mention that you're in an open adoption and your family includes your adopted child's biological relatives -- eyes pop and jaws drop and questions come fast and furious.

I do believe that my role as a step-child has somewhat shaped the kind of adoptive mother that I am today. The relationship between my divorced parents and the step-family that evolved on my father's side were both highly dysfunctional, more so that I ever realized as a teenager and young adult. Any situation that involved the presence of my father, mother, and step-mother brought me high levels of anxiety and panic. My mother and step-mother called each other horrible names, and constantly told me that the other one didn't love me and had no place in my life. I was part of two families, and each one despised the other. I didn't feel "at home" anywhere. Every special event in my life (and in the lives of my sisters) has been overshadowed and tarnished by the hatred between my two families.

I often marvel when I meet people who tell me that their divorced parents are friends - or even friendly. I can't even picture that kind of relationship between my parents and step-mother.

I recently was talking with someone about my relationship with Lily's biological relatives, and I said that in some ways, they are the family I always wanted. At the beginning of our relationship, they embraced me because we loved the same person. And over time, we developed a true, loving relationship with one another. Had it not been for the mutual respect and compassion that we showed for one another at the beginning, I don't think our individual relationships would have been given the chance to flourish. Given my experience as a child, I can only believe that Lily seeing the love between her two families will make her a happier and stronger person, free from the anxieties I still carry with me in my 40s.

Ultimately, the adults in any blended family set the tone, and that tone generally (but not always) dictates whether the children in the family flourish or spend a good part of their adult life on the couch of a therapist. I do hope that adoption becomes more and more about the integration of families rather than the erasing of one to replace it with another. I hope that as society begins to accept this approach as the norm, more adoptive parents will choose the path of family integration. And I hope that all adults who find themselves in a blended family will recognize the critical role they play in creating the audio that will play in their child's head for decades to come.  

Funny Things That Happen When You're in a Very Open Adoption

Fiona and Nate, Lily's first parents, are still together as a couple - year six and going strong. Despite the fact that both of their mothers live locally, they had never met each other. Until recently. When I introduced my daughter's grandmothers to one another. Fiona and Nate weren't around. It was just me, introducing two other people's potential in-laws to one another.

The weather was beautiful the day we all got together and we went to an outdoor event in the neighborhood. Nate's mom ran into one of her co-workers who looked completely flabbergasted as Nate's mom's introduced all of us to her. We're all different races, so it's wildly confusing, and I tried to alleviate the awkwardness by asking her to guess which one of the grandmas was my mother. To which Fiona's mother said, "You really look more like your dad." The poor woman looked like she needed a drink.

Another friend who was at this event commented that I now travel with Lily's entourage. When this friend's mother - another grandmother figure - took Lily to go look at a petting zoo area, we laughed that just what Lily needs is another grandmother in her life. I've lost count of how many women identify as Lily's grandmother (or great-grandmother, or great-great grandmother). I think we're up to 9 or 10. It's truly astounding.

My family is getting bigger and bigger, and it makes me smile when I think about the amazing and unusual relationships that have formed through our open adoption. I've written recently about the hard parts, and there are many -- especially for Fiona and Nate -- but it's important to focus on the positives, too. Lily's 4th birthday is approaching, and I'm fairly certain that there will be more biological relatives than adoptive relatives at her party. In fact, I would venture to say that Lily will have more face-to-face interaction with more biological family members that I, a non-adopted person, had while I was growing up. Fiona and Nate and G and I now have mutual friends and mutual friends of friends and our lives criss cross in multiple ways. Fiona's mom and my great-aunt just became Facebook friends.

When people see me out and about with "Lily's entourage," they often ask me how I do it. The truth is - the socializing part is easy. However, my hat goes off to those adoptive parents who have two and three very open adoptions - there does come a point when there's just not enough room in the house, the car, restaurants, etc. to fit everyone.

Are there words of comfort?

I am not, nor will I ever be, an adoptee or a first parent. But as an adoptive mother in a very open adoption, I voraciously read the writings of adoptees and first parents with the hope of better understanding their experiences. My daughter is almost four, so I have yet to fully see how she processes her adoption, but I do have a close relationship with her first parents and extended families in which they feel open to express their feelings of loss and pain to me. This is not to say they don't support me or my role in Lily's life. I feel that they like me, think of me as part of their family, and believe that I am a good mother to Lily. In fact, a person who I lean on a lot when I'm struggling emotionally is one of Lily's (biological) grandmothers. She is among my closest friends.

I've written recently that we're going through a tough time in our open adoption right now. I don't feel like writing about the details, but basically new members of Lily's extended first family just found out about her existence. So in a sense, we're back at day one in terms of them processing their feelings, which in turns brings all of us back to that time with them.

I have experienced deep loss and pain in my life. I've experienced dark periods that I wasn't sure I would ever come out of. But when I reflect back on the times I fell into the abyss of despair, what I remember -- who I remember -- are the people who stuck out their arms and pulled me up out of it. How did they do that? Of course, they listened, and I felt understood. But it was more than that. They spoke words that gave me encouragement and hope, hope that better days were ahead, hope that as awful as things felt at that moment, that there was a path to healing, and over time, the pain would subside. Had I not believed that the pain would ever subside, had I not seen a ray of hope, I'm not sure if I would have grabbed their arms and let them help me out of that abyss.

I am not a parent or a grandparent or an aunt who has lost a child to adoption. I only know a kind of loss that is different than their kind of loss. I can listen, and I can do my best to put myself in their shoes and try to understand. And I have. But beyond being there and listening, I struggle with what to say. I certainly know what NOT to say, but I wonder if there are right words for an adoptive parent to say to a first family member who is feeling sadness over the adoption.

The Hard Parts

This week I was reminded that open adoption can be hard. For everyone.

As the adoptive parent, open adoption requires me to witness the pain, the grief, the sadness, and the regret of my daughter's first family. The emotions I bear witness to are strong and real and messy and overwhelming. In a closed or even semi-open adoption, these emotions would not be within my realm of consciousness. I would not see them, hear them, respond to them, and think about them during my daily life.

But I believe that as Lily's adoptive mother, I have to learn to hear and hold those raw emotions without letting them consume or swallow me. I have to listen, to be there, to let her first family know they are understood. And I have to consistently remind them that our hearts and doors are open, and then embrace them tightly when they walk through.

Open adoption is not easy, but I do it because I can do it, and I believe it is what is best for my daughter. And each time I walk through a dark tunnel with Lily's first family, I find that as long as we hold on to one another, as long as we approach each other from a place of love, respect, and compassion, that we come through that dark tunnel, and the light shines on us once again.

Too Good to Be True

I've written a few times about our first meeting with Fiona and Nate, Lily's first parents. However, I recently remembered something new -- something that Fiona said to me at the end of our first meeting. She said, "You guys seem too good to be true."

Let me back up a bit. The local agency that did our home study facilitated very few domestic adoptions. They encouraged us to pursue other avenues - sign up with more active agencies - but G and I were very clear in what kind of situation we would be comfortable with. (And at the time, I was not nearly as knowledgeable as I am today in terms of how most infant domestic adoptions come about.) We told the agency that we did not want to meet any pregnant women. We did not want to be part of anyone's decision-making process. We would only be interested in starting the adoption process after a woman had a baby and decided she wanted to place. We were told many times that it almost never works that way, that if a woman is going to place, she's going to want to meet us before she gives birth. We maintained that if it didn't happen, then it didn't happen. 

I was completely floored when we got a call from the agency social worker telling us a baby girl had been born the previous day and her mother wanted to place her but did not have an adoption plan. Then floored again when we were told that her parents wanted a closed adoption -- that we would know very little about them or them about us. When we picked up Lily at our local hospital the next day, what had happened didn't seem real. It was as if the mythical stork had flown by our home and dropped off a baby. As I was falling in love with this baby, I had so many questions about her first parents. And a little more than a week later, I would start to get answers.

That was the first time we met Fiona and Nate. We were still within the revocation period. And that's the day when I went into the zone -- the place where I wondered how I could go on if we lost Lily. Not only were G and I in love with Lily, but so was Ferb, our then five-year-old son. My life had been turned upside down. I had become a new mother with less than 24 hours notice. I had taken unplanned leave from work. I wasn't sleeping. I was mentally and physically exhausted. I was feeling a lot of confusion, just trying to keep my head above water. And then Fiona and Nate wanted to meet us -- they wanted to talk about having an open adoption.

Something inside of me kicked in during that meeting -- a force or energy that is hard to describe -- and I said all the right things, all the things that Fiona and Nate wanted to hear about the open adoption we would have, one that involved visits and birthday parties and holidays and sporting events and so on and so on. As Fiona told me, it sounded too good to be true.

But here's the thing. When I looked into my daughters' parents' eyes and told them that they would be a real part of our lives, of Lily's life, I knew I had to find it in me to live out that promise. How it all would work seemed complex and confusing at the time, but I was committed to sorting it out. Because never in a million years could I live with deceiving my daughter's parents. Never. Hurting them in that way would be simply unbearable.

That's why I get sick to my stomach when I read about far too many situations where prospective adoptive parents make promises to mothers and fathers about being a real part of their child's life post-adoption, and then totally renig on those promises. And even though I'm not one of those people, I don't even like sharing the title "adoptive parent" with them. Hurting your child's parent is hurting your child. Period.

Of course, our adoption has opened wider and farther than I ever could have imagined. What seemed so confusing and complex at the beginning is second nature to me now. Fiona has lived with us. Both Nate and Fiona have had keys to our house for various reasons. They spend time with Lily with us and without us. Fiona's mother has volunteered at Lily's school. There have been visits and birthday parties and holidays and soon there will be sporting events, too. Fiona and Nate are among the most important and special people in my life. Turns out that it wasn't too good to be true - for all of us.

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.