Who could blame her?

See this picture? This is what our daughter's adoption looked like one year ago today. This sweet little girl was scared out of her mind.  She didn't want to leave the only caretakers she had ever known and live with complete strangers who spoke a different language.

Who could blame her?

She had been screaming and writhing for at least 10 minutes in my arms. She had the inhuman strength of a toddler in full tantrum. I could scarcely hold onto her. Sweat was dripping down my back.  If I put her down she would run away looking for her "aunties" (that's what she called her former caretakers.) If she found them we had to separate her from them all over again. It was unimaginably heartbreaking.

We were not allowed leave the civil affairs building with our daughter that day until we took a family picture to be printed for our adoption decree (a legal document proving our status as her parents.) "Say cheese!" This was the best picture they could get.

Before traveling to China, I read the books, listened to the podcasts and took the webinars. They all said to be prepared for your child to not want to come with you, especially a toddler in a foreign country. I was not prepared for this. Nothing could ever prepare anyone for a day like that day.

Remembering this day doesn't make me feel like celebrating. It makes me want to cry. This is the ugly truth that nobody wants to tell you:

Adoption is pain. Adoption is tragedy. Adoption is harder than you can ever imagine.

But it's also totally worth it.

Top row: Her second day with us, showing her defiant side, at the playground
Middle row: First pic of all three siblings together, at the playground, in China after a week with us
Bottom row: Getting to know big sister, showing her silly side, soap mohawk in the tub 

If we lived in the deep south

This last week I was reminded why diversity matters, especially for a family like ours.

We were driving home from a family reunion in Alabama. We stopped at a Sheetz gas station in southern Virginia for a quick dinner. If you've been to a Sheetz it's better than your average gas station food and more like a fast food place. They had some nice little outdoor tables with umbrellas. It was a beautiful evening so we ate outside.

At the table next to us there was a caucasian family with two young children. As we sat there and ate our dinner a little old lady walked by and said to the other family, "you have such beautiful children!" Their table and our table were very close to each other and she had to walk right by us as well. She looked at us, paused, and walked by without saying a word. We even smiled at her and she avoided eye contact. "That was interesting," said Keith.

The way we were sitting she could only see the back of Noah and Allison's heads. She had a perfect view of me and Keith with Autumn sitting on his lap. Perhaps she didn't consider Chinese children to be beautiful. Or maybe, she didn't know what to say because it was something she had never seen before. Maybe she was trying to figure out why we couldn't find any white kids to adopt. There I go assuming negative thought bubbles.

It didn't really offend me and we actually laughed about it afterward. It reminded me to be grateful to live where we live. There's enough diversity in the Baltimore/DC suburbs that, most of the time, people don't behave that way. I imagine that if we lived in the deep south that Autumn would always struggle to fit in. 

For a transracial adoptee, it's extremely important to feel accepted by your community as well as by your family.

All my kids are beautiful.

Special Needs

I've grown to dislike the term, "special needs." It implies that there is something terribly wrong with you.

Recently, I was speaking with the director of international adoption at a local agency. She had just returned from a trip to China and South Korea. She expressed discouragement over the children in the orphanages in China. She said that the children's needs were much more severe than they have ever seen before.

It bugged me a little. Was she discouraged because knew they'd be harder to place? Was she discouraged because there are less "healthy" children available now? I hope it's the former, because less children being available for adoption is a GOOD thing!

She got me thinking.

When we came home from China I was racked with guilt for taking our daughter away from everything she knew. I wished with all my heart that she could be with the parents who had created her. I wished that I knew something, ANYTHING about why they abandoned her.

Last year China changed their law prohibiting citizens from having more than one child to allow them to have two children. (Still a human rights violation but at least slightly less of one.) Is it possible that if that law had been changed in 2012 our daughter could have stayed with her first family? I guess I'll never really know.

But, maybe, just maybe the explanation for less minor special needs children in orphanages is the change in the law. Maybe their families are deciding to take a chance on them. Maybe it's a sign of social change. I hope that is the case because that would be wonderful.

Autumn is not handicapped. That is the last time you will ever see me use her name and that word in the same sentence. She is not disabled, she is not defective. She is PERFECT and healthy and wonderful and she is as much my daughter now as if I had given birth to her. She is not lucky that we adopted her. A child left on a street corner is not lucky.

We are lucky to have been given the chance to have her in our family.

Everyone has something that is different about them. Everyone has special needs. Sometimes those differences are obvious. Most of the time they are invisible. Don't be afraid to take a chance and help someone.

Everyone has special needs. Every. Single. Person.

Thought Bubbles

Our little one at the beach.

Today I was at the mall with my ADORABLE three year old daughter. (Yes, I'm biased, but I am allowed to be because I'm her mother.)

A sweet old lady asks, "did you adopt her?" Sigh. Here we go.

There are times that I don't mind all the questions, I've grown accustomed. But, in this moment, I just want to sit there and have a quiet moment with my sweet little girl as we enjoy our cup of pretzel bites.

"Yes," I say and force a smile.

"From where?"        "China."

Her follow up questions get way too personal (as they often do) but I manage by giving general information about Chinese adoption and not going into anything specific about our daughter. The nice woman takes her leave. I sigh and think that could have been worse.

And then I look up.

I see a young mom with a stroller openly staring with wide eyes and an open mouth at me and my absolutely AMAZING and charming daughter. I make eye contact and she instantly looks away. I mean, her head turns so fast I'm surprised she doesn't get whiplash.

I fight back the tears.

When our family is in public, people stare. We are not all the same color. It confuses people. Our three year old also has an obvious physical difference due to a birth defect. I would have stared at her too; before she was mine. We usually handle the stares by making eye contact and smiling. It works great and eases the tension we and the gawker are feeling. This lady doesn't even give us a chance to smile. I can't tell if she's embarrassed to have been caught staring or if she's simply disgusted with what she was seeing. Maybe a little of both.

I decide that we need another strategy when plan A fails. I think of my 9 year old son and have an idea.

When we say family prayers he sometimes has a hard time focusing on the words so he started creating pictures in his mind. After we pray he will sometimes describe the pictures he drew in his mind. For example, when we pray for the homeless, "I saw a homeless man walking into a house with a thought bubble that said he was happy." Stuff like that.

It got me thinking. What if we imagine thought bubbles floating above people's heads when they stare? The idea made me giggle.  Here are some ideas for our thought bubbles:

"Wow, that little girl is really amazing."

"Look at that beautiful smile."

"How does she do that with no thumbs?"

"I wonder how hard it is to adopt from another country."

(And then I realized that "thought bubbles" is a FANTASTIC blog title.)

What thought bubbles would you imagine?