God doesn't have a Plan B- what I wish everyone knew about adoption

A few weeks ago I was at a friend's home attending a home sales party when my friend asked me how life was going since our return from Russia with our new son. This was a good friend and so of course she knew about our adoption adventures. And everyone who knows us knows that we wear our adoption badge proudly - in our trans racial family it is certainly no secret that our boys are not American by birth. I don't mind a friend asking an innocent question about my family. What I do mind is what happened next. Another guest at this party, someone I had not met until that evening, made the following comment: "Why didn't you just have your own children? Can't you have children of your own?" While I was processing these questions another guest followed up with the statement nearly every adoptive mother has heard a million times: "You know, now that you have adopted you will surely get pregnant." I then did something I don't normally do at these types of events. I accepted the glass of wine the host was pushing into my hands and I smiled as I responded through clenched teeth: "Oh, well, with two little ones at home I am not interested in getting pregnant!" (cue awkward laughter.)

Adoption touches so many lives that nearly everyone knows someone who has joyously grown their family in this way. It's time to set the record straight. I am sure that most of these comments are meant with no harm intended. After all, people are naturally curious. But it's not just the thoughtless comments that burn into the memories of adoptive mothers everywhere. It is also conversations we are not included in and assumptions that are made about our decisions and our families.

I don't enjoy being left out of conversations about pregnancy and birth. Just because I didn't carry my child for nine months doesn't mean I didn't do all of the things an expectant mother does. I planned the nursery. I worried about the health of my new child. I dreamed about counting fingers and toes. I wondered what my baby would look like and if he or she would be more like me or my husband. I shopped for clothes and would sit in the chair in my baby's room, looking at the empty crib, full of anticipation. I didn't wait for labor pains to hit; I waited for the phone call and the travel letter to arrive. And once it did, my labor wasn't over in hours or days. The time between notification of travel to meet my sons and the day I held them in my arms took months. So don't think I don't have anything to offer to your conversations about pregnancy or labor.

And your stories about caring for newborns? Don't leave me out of those discussions either. While both my sons were older when they joined our family we still had our share of "newborn" type concerns. My oldest son was fifteen months old when he came home but his sleeping habits mirrored those of a much younger baby. He was difficult to put down and then once asleep he would wake frequently throughout the night, screaming. His night terrors lasted for over a year. I may not have cared for an infant but I understand sleep deprivation. I understand feeding difficulties and worrying over how much, or how little, formula the baby is taking. I have thoughts to add to your conversations, but so often I am not asked.

I had someone comment once to me about how adoption must have been "easier" than a traditional pregnancy. Just because I may not have talked about every part of our adoption process doesn't mean it was "easy". If your obstetrician chose to meet with you in the waiting room of his office, ask you very personal questions about your finances, your marriage, your extended family, your health, your home, your career, your fertility, or lack of fertility, while everyone in the room listened in, how would you feel? If you had to welcome the fire marshal into your home and allow him to poke into every closet and check your fire extinguishers, just to have him tell you that they weren't placed exactly in the right spot, or have him wait, impatiently, while you ran around placing outlet covers in the outlets on your counters, because "babies climb, you know", as if you were completely ignorant of how children behave, how would you feel? How about having to take off your clothes in front of doctors (note the plural there) that you have never met, in a room in a foreign country while other total strangers milled about just outside the not completely closed door, and everyone in the room talked about you in a language you didn't understand? Or having to meet with a psychologist to prove that you are appropriate parent material? What if you went to the hospital to deliver your baby but was not guaranteed to bring that baby home with you? What if a judge held the fate of your family in his or her hands? After undergoing two rounds of invitrovertilization I know how invasive the pregnancy medical appointments and delivery must be. I am not saying that adoption is more difficult than traditional pregnancy and birth. But I am saying that just because I didn't receive an epidural doesn't mean that somehow adoption is the easier choice.

I need you to know how frustrating it is when I am told about women who adopted and then found themselves pregnant. First of all, no one knows the story of our fertility except us. When these types of comments are made so are a lot of assumptions. I may be able to have biological children. I may not be able to have biological children. Either way, our choice to adopt was not some convoluted way to conceive. It was not "plan B". And I never want my children to ever think that it was. It was God's plan for me to have my tender hearted, smart, music and football loving Chinese boy and my sweet, tough, dancing Russian boy. And we all know that God doesn't have a backup plan. There is no "plan B" where my boys are concerned.

I wish as my boys grow older they will be seen for the wonderful individuals they are. I hope that they will not be introduced as my "adopted" boys but simply as my boys. I have never once introduced my niece by saying, "This is my niece. She was born prematurely but is doing great now!" Sounds crazy, right? But that is how my boys are referred to every day. Every day. And while I write about adoption and adoption related issues frequently I do not push that onto my boys. I want the history my boys have from the months they lived before they joined our family to be cherished and remembered, but I also want it to be placed appropriately in the overall scheme of their lives. I want people to look at them and see just them.

I want the questions about my reproductive system to stop. I am not going to tell you how much it costs to adopt internationally. If someone is seriously interested in adoption I am the first person to share the joys and the low points of the process. I love love love to talk about growing families through adoption. But I will not answer a question that makes it sound as though I somehow purchased my children. Please stop reducing my family to dollars and cents.

So many people assume that our children arrived to our family just the way they are now. With a biological child you learn to parent as the child grows. The child learns the language you speak. The child learns to love you and bonds with you, never for a moment thinking that you might one day be gone. My children learned to sooth themselves because maternal figures came and went. They learned to speak, or at least to understand, in a language different from my own. And my husband and I learned to parent in hotel rooms and airports. When our son needed medical attention we didn't have the luxury of calling our pediatrician or running down to the corner drugstore for antibiotics. My tiny, underweight fifteen month old was treated at a hospital in a foreign country. He screamed as I handed him through a window, a window, to have blood taken. I could hear him screaming but could not hold him or comfort him. I tried to keep him clean as I watched parents wring out not just wet, but soiled diapers onto the concrete floor of the hospital waiting room, which was outside, so that the diaper could be used again. I struggled with the question of whether to give my new son the mystery powder with the unreadable label or just hope the bronchitis worked itself out on it's own. We didn't have the luxury of making our parenting mistakes in the privacy of our own home. We made our slip ups in public, in airports, hotels, and flights full of witnesses. Talk about feeling judged.

I don't think about these issues very often. It is important to me that you understand that. I don't dislike the way we are viewed as a family. I don't think that every kind smile or comment is a reflection of our adoption story. My kids are adorable and high energy; it's hard not to look. I get lots of great comments as well. One of my favorites came after I returned home with my youngest son. The entire month long trip had been difficult and the three day journey home, alone with a toddler, was difficult as well. My sweet friend Karen probably had no idea how much her words meant to me when she said "I have no doubt that your labor was much harder than mine." Harder, I don't know. But at least just as difficult, in it's own way. So there are great comments made. But there are also  times when I just wish the world out there knew what I knew. So now, a few more of you do.

no one ever talks about the guilt...

No one ever talks about the guilt. Adoptive parents hear "you are so lucky" so often that maybe we feel we can't occasionally complain about the trials and tribulations of raising children. We all know that sometimes just getting through the day with our little ones is quite a chore, no matter how they joined the family. But if they just happened to have joined through adoption then those trials sometimes get a little harder. Toss in the guilt of being frustrated at this beautiful child that you wanted so badly that you couldn't sleep at night and a little worry that whatever behavior is causing you your current stress might be adoption related and you've got the potential for a major mommy melt down.

My little guy is still so new to us. He is doing so well, especially considering all the changes he has lived through in the past two months alone. The bonding is going well. And I love every minute I spend with him. And when I go back to work I will look back on this time alone with him every day and miss it so much that I will find myself tearing up while on the company's clock. I went through this with my oldest son, the not being able to put him down or walk away without setting off a screaming fit in the baby. I would imagine nearly every adoptive parent goes through this. And, of course, in case you are thinking of sending me a fan letter, I know that biological parents go through the same thing. Of course I know.

But the months of trying to get pregnant. The testing and planning and oh my god, all that money spent on pregnancy tests. The pregnancies that ended much too soon. The invitro fertilizations. The drugs, the shots, the painful egg harvests. The daily blood tests. The waiting. Oh my god, the waiting. The years of wanting to be mommy. And now I am, only to want to hand over this baby to my husband the minute he walks in the door at night. Only I can't, because to do so I would have to also hand over my arm. Or my leg. Or whatever body part he had attached himself to.

And then there is the older son guilt. Am I doing right by my oldest child? Am I spending enough time alone with him? Is he adjusting well to his new brother? Did I do any long term damage by leaving him for a month to finalize his brother's adoption? Why is he so sensitive? Is he worried about something adoption related, like being "given back" or is he just being a typical over dramatic 4 year old?

So we feel we can't mention how hard it sometimes is. My new little guy really learned to survive. This means he will fight for what he wants. And if that means smacking or biting Mommy then so be it. He is getting better with this every day and I know that shortly it will only be a distant memory. The typical response to a 24 month old who hits when upset doesn't really work for my son, not yet. I can't really walk away. He needs to feel safe and to understand that his needs will be met. Eventually we can parent by "typical" means. But not now. And, to be honest, we may never be totally "typical" parents. Because some of that guilt will always be there, lurking behind every decision we make regarding our boys. Welcome to adoptive parenthood, again! Oh guilt, how I have missed you...

making mommy friends is hard!

I used to be pretty popular, for a relatively quiet girl. In elementary school I was always friends with other "good girls" - girls who always did their home work and carried brushes and lip smacker lip gloss in their macrame or jeans purses. (how old am I?) In fifth or sixth grade I paired up with a mysterious young man named Earl, not so much because I liked him but because everyone had a "boyfriend". We would sit together at lunch and I would watch him play dodge ball or baseball at recess. I remember that Earl had dark hair and wore a lot of plain white t-shirts. Not a lot to build a relationship on, but it was a strong enough foundation for a young girl to fit in to the delicate balance of elementary school.

In high school and college I developed a close circle of friends, many of whom I am still close to today. I may not have been the most popular girl in school- homecoming queen I was not and I can't even remember the  name of the quarterback, let alone remember if he ever spoke to me in the hall. But I was friendly and nice and caring and funny and when it came to friends I did alright.

Then I grew up. left the cloistered world of academia and entered the very real world of working, paying bills, dealing with family problems, dating. I maintained my friendships from college and added a few more along the way, from early jobs. As my career progressed I spent less and less time in an office, meaning more responsibility and the money that went with it, but less opportunity to build lasting relationships with co-workers. I went on a date and found the love of my life sitting in that BW3's and got married. And then we moved two hours away from family and friends.

We suffered through infertility and two invitro-fertilizations. (side note: the act of "egg harvest" is even more unpleasant than the horrific name implies.) We traveled to China and brought home our beautiful little boy and became a family "with children". Suddenly I was a wife and mother who worked outside the home but with a "home office", with my same circle of amazing close friends, all two hours away.

Making mommy friends is hard! I am not the most outgoing person. I don't find it easy to get to know others. It's not that I don't want to get to know people, it's just not easy for me. I have opportunities - the China play group my son belongs to, the other board members of Central Ohio Families With Children From China, the other daycare mommies. Tonight I am heading out to MOPS to meet with other moms and spend some time sharing and bonding and learning. I am looking forward to it; I always enjoy it when I go. But it isn't easy. Making mommy friends is hard!