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.

I don't have to treat all my children equally

Newborn Allison with Noah

Allison was such an easy baby. She was happy, didn't cry much, slept through the night pretty early, and was just such a joy to be around. When she started walking it all changed.

Allison's first birthday

Sometimes I joke around that I can't wait until she grows up and leaves because we drive each other nuts. She has ruined furniture and other household items with a variety of things including (but not limited to) poop, yogurt, ground up goldfish and baby powder. She seemed to do these things out of vengeance which might sound strange for a one year old but, it's true. I would tell her, "no," to some request and she would get this look in her eye and calmly walk away only to be found minutes later pouring an entire bottle of maple syrup onto my favorite arm chair. It wasn't until she was four that she started to calm down. I refer to ages 1-3 as the "dark years." 

Fourth birthday 

3 years old after playing in the dirt, this is her defiant look

One thing I've never had to worry about is her self confidence. She was always so independent. When she went to Kindergarten I worked at her school as the music teacher. I would see her on the playground at recess by herself and I would worry that she wasn't making friends. When I asked her about it she told me that she was more interested in doing what she wanted to do. She wanted to do the swings so she did the swings and she didn't worry about anyone else or feel left out. I was super impressed actually. It wasn't long before kids were drawn to her quiet confidence and wanted to do the swings with her. She was tough as nails and nothing ever bothered her.

That all changed when she became the middle child. 

We came home from China with her little sister right before her second grade year. Autumn was not nice to Allison at first because she didn't want to share mom and dad. Autumn didn't feel as competitive with Noah and would pay attention to him and basically shun Allison. That really destroyed Allison's self confidence and it was so painful to watch because there was very little we could do about it. 

Allison became a completely different person. She started being afraid of everything and constantly thinking she was sick. She started coming home from school unhappy because a certain friend didn't play with her at recess. She started reacting differently when I would discipline her. She started telling me that she wished she was born to a different family.  I felt guilty because I thought it was my fault for bringing home another child, like my actions had caused some sort of permanent damage. 

When she as the youngest it didn't matter how much I yelled at Allison. We had EPIC power struggles to the point where I would have to leave the house and walk around the block. We would scream at each other and slam doors and she would dig her heels in even more. Now, if I yell at her even a little, she weeps and wails like it's the end of the world. She doesn't dig her heels in anymore.

I had to relearn how to parent my child. 

Adjusting to having three kids proved to be a lot more difficult than I thought. Allison was exhibiting classic "middle child syndrome" behavior and wanted constant attention. I was determined to treat them all equally.  After months of equal treatment Allison's emotional explosions, hypochondria, and fears were only getting worse. 

As we were considering adopting our fourth, I began doing research about disrupting the sibling order and found that it's only really an issue when you disrupt the oldest or youngest. Middle children don't have the same feeling of privilege the oldest and youngest do and so, they can't really be disrupted. I interpreted that to mean, that for middle children, it can't get much worse. 

Then I had an epiphany. I don't have to treat all my children equally. Noah and Autumn are more emotionally healthy because of their birth order. Middle children tend to perpetually see themselves as less important. Whether or not this is actually true doesn't really matter because perception is reality. In order for Allison to feel like she was getting equal attention I needed to give her extra attention.

So, she and I talked and we worked out a system. If she feels unhappy or ignored she can come to me and ask to speak privately and I will drop everything and do it. This happens almost daily now. I would absolutely do the same for my other children if they felt they needed it but they have never asked. Usually our conversations are 30 seconds or less. It has made such a difference. 

I spent so many years worrying about spoiling Allison. Now that she's a middle child, I get to spoil her as much as I want. She gets more one-on-one time with me than any of my other kids. She needs the time and it has not turned her into a spoiled brat. It has made her feel equal to her siblings. She is beginning to turn back into that confident kid I admired so much. 

As an added bonus, Autumn came around and the two girls are best friends now. 

Man, do I love those kids.

 

Begin with the end in mind

Wednesday morning I woke up at 5:30 with a feeling of dread.  My plan was to get to the US State Department right at 8:00 to pick up our Chinese adoption papers (aka our dossier.) From there I had to find a place to make copies of the entire 84 page document then head over to the Chinese embassy and submit them for the final authentication step. Before the day even started I had an ominous feeling that it wasn't going to go well.

So, I did what I have always been taught to do: I prayed. I asked God to help make the day go smoothly and that I would get things done quickly and completely and then I set out.

When I got to the State Department it was just after 8:00 and there was already a line, but it was short. I was in and out in about 15 minutes. I asked a security guard where the nearest copy shop was and he directed me to a bookstore but they were not open. I used the map app on my phone and walked to three other shops, all of which were out of business. Finally, just after 9:00am, I found a UPS store. The gentleman at the counter said, "I've seen this before, I know how to do it." Then he informed me that he would charge $1 per page because he was not allowed to remove the staples. If he removed the staples and re-stapled them then the Chinese embassy would reject the dossier because it would look as though it had been tampered with. Since he was the only game in town I begrudgingly agreed to pay the $1 per page. Then he said to come back in an hour.

It was 10:00 by the time I got my papers back. I had lost 1 hour 45 minutes and $84 getting the necessary copies of our dossier. But I kept my chin up, I needed to head to the embassy and get this done and, darn it, I was going to get it done that day!

I plugged "Chinese embassy" into my map app and drove to the address it provided. The internet failed me again but I didn't realize it until I parked 2 blocks away from the wrong building, walked around for 10 minutes, and had to ask someone for help. It turned out I had driven to the apartment building where they house the Chinese ambassadors.

So, I walked back to my car and drove another 15 minutes to the correct location. It was just after 11:00 when I took a number and waited to be helped. I will never forget my number, B585, because I stared at it for 3 long hours. As I sat there, my anxiety rose steadily. Autumn was staying at a friend's house and I had expected to be back by lunch time. My friend was so nice about it and said she could stay longer. I was worried about getting home in time for the older two to get home from school. Also, there was rush hour traffic to worry about.

As I was sitting there CNN was playing on the televisions in the embassy. It was right in front of me so I couldn't help but watch. They were reporting about the little boy who was taken by an alligator and alternating that with the Orlando shooting and speeches by the current presidential candidates. It was incredibly depressing.

Finally, at approximately 2:00 my number was up. I went up and gave the lady our dossier. She proceeded to shuffle through them and scrutinized each page. She found one page (not an original) that was not up to their standards, handed back the entire pile of papers and rejected my submission. I had to go make a new copy of that one page and return and take a new number.

The embassy is open until 5:00 so I decided I was not going home without getting this done. No way, no how. So I found a FedEx store two blocks away and redid that one page and headed back to the embassy. Little did I know, their business hours are until 5:00 but they stop handing out numbers at 2:30. It was 2:42 when I made it back. There was no way I could get it done that day.

I walked out into the bright sunlight of the afternoon and wanted to scream with frustration. Also, I was so starving that I was almost ready to eat my own arm. I called Keith and told him that I was going to grab a quick bite to eat and then head home. That wonderful man had picked up Autumn and was home waiting for Noah and Allison's school bus.

The nearest restaurant was Einsteins Bagels. As I was entering I lost my composure and started crying. This was not just a sniffle and a few tears, but full on sobbing, ugly, uncontrollable crying. I couldn't even pull myself together enough to order food so I found a table in the corner and put my head down on my arms.

After a few minutes, one of the employees came and sat next to me and put her arm around me. She asked me what was wrong and I told her I was having a bad day. She asked if I had eaten that day and I told her I hadn't since 6:00 that morning. She asked what I wanted and I said I didn't know, maybe just a plain bagel with cream cheese. She said no, that I needed a real meal and proceeded to make me a sandwich with chips and a drink. I offered to pay and she said, "no, it's free. I just want you to have a good day." She was right when she said that I would feel better after I had something to eat.

The kindness shown to me by these strangers helped to ease the frustration and emotional exhaustion of the day. That morning I had prayed that things would go smoothly, but they didn't. The Lord had a different plan. He used my bad day to create an opportunity for someone else to do good. It was truly a humbling experience.

As I went to my car Keith sent me this text. -------------------------->

How blessed I am to be surrounded by people who help me to begin with the end in mind.

The next morning I went back to the embassy and our dossier was accepted.

Always Carry Cash

This week I have been working on our dossier for our next Chinese adoption. The process isn't too difficult, it just has a LOT of steps. I had to collect 20 different documents including things like police clearances, home study, medical certifications etc. The Chinese government knows more about us than we know about ourselves. This packet of 20 documents has to go through a serious of authentications. Not every page has to go through every step so that can be tricky to navigate. But, most of the papers go through this process:

Public Notary witnesses the original signature
County Clerk authenticates that the notary is legit ($1 per document)
Secretary of State authenticates that the county clerk is legit ($2 per document)
US State Department authenticates that the Secretary of State is legit ($8 per document)
Chinese Consulate authenticates that the US State Department is legit ($25 per document)

It's INSANE. Last go round we paid the adoption agency extra to take care of all the authentication steps and it was worth every penny. (We have a different agency this time and they don't offer that service.) This is an unbelievable amount of legwork.

On Monday we got the last piece of the puzzle so I could start this marathon of authentication. Autumn and I took all the papers to the Howard County Clerk's office then drove to Annapolis to the Secretary of State. I was feeling pretty good about my paper pushing abilities until I got home and double checked everything. I had ONE letter that was notarized in Baltimore City. The Howard County Clerk overlooked that little detail (so did I.)  I had Howard County vouching for Baltimore City which they have no authority to do. It also invalidated my Secretary of State authentication. (Yay! Another 45 minute drive to Annapolis!)

So, today I drove to the Baltimore City Courthouse and it was very......well, interesting.

Howard County only accepts checks, the Secretary of State only accepts credit cards, and (you guessed it) Baltimore City only accepts cash. I didn't know about that last part.

I never carry cash. I literally did not have ONE DOLLAR to pay for this letter to be authenticated.

The lady at the Baltimore City Courthouse directed me to the nearest ATM 2 blocks away. I went to that location and the building was closed for construction. At this point, it was approaching lunchtime and Autumn was complaining that she was hungry and I REALLY had to pee.

I found a little deli to buy Autumn a snack and got up to the register but there was a minimum $5 charge for debit card purchases. I either had to buy 3 bags of chips or none at all. I put the chips back and we hit the potty. When we came out of the bathroom a nice man who was behind us in line had bought Autumn her chips. The kindness of this stranger was the only thing that kept my head level.

We found ourselves wandering around downtown Baltimore in search of an ATM. Finally, I found one in a little Chinese restaurant down a dodgy-looking ally. By this point we were five blocks away from the courthouse. Autumn was as happy as a clam meandering along and munching on her BBQ potato chips without a care in the world. She really is such an easy going kid.

After returning to the courthouse we discovered that the lady who sent me to the ATM to get a dollar was on her lunch break. This is important because she had told me to come directly to her window so that I didn't have to wait in line a second time.

We ended up at a different person's window and he took my letter and he authenticated it for me. I tried to hand him my $20 bill to pay the fee and he said, "nah, don't worry about it."

Golden Handcuffs

We had to hire a financial planner. I never thought I'd see the day. Keith works a 100% commission job so that can make planning a little bit tricky. You never really know what's coming from month to month. Keith works hard and so, generally, he does pretty well. He has done so well that I got to stop working and go back being a stay at home mom.

For two years I spent a lot of time resenting Keith's job. I felt they asked too much of him, too many hours, too much pressure to perform, too many Saturdays. Despite the fact that, if it were not for this job, we wouldn't have our beautiful house, I would have to work, and we would still be a family of four.

Our financial planner told us that a lot of people in sales commission jobs get caught in a trap they call the "golden handcuffs." In other words, they have a good year and spend a whole bunch of money on stuff they don't need and then they have to work even longer hours to maintain their standard of living. He told us that, if we plan carefully, we can have an exit plan. I really liked the sound of that.

So we sat down and tried to agree on an exit plan, or at least a timeline for an exit plan. It soon became clear that my husband has no desire to change his career path. He is extremely happy and satisfied with his work.

Great. (sarcastic)

But then I thought again. Great! (not sarcastic) How many people can say that they LOVE what they do? How many people can make a good living doing what they love? It seems like a particularly rare gift. Our exit plan will, most likely, be retirement. I can handle that, I think..... as long as it's on a beach.

It's not always easy when I see other families taking day trips to the zoo or other fun places on Saturday when I am on my own with 3 (soon to be 4) kids. It's not easy putting the kids to bed by myself or having to hire a babysitter so I can take my son to basketball practice without two little girls whining that they are bored. The fact of the matter is that it's not hard to find things to complain about no matter your circumstances.

I'll admit, I've been in a funk with this lately. My strategy is to count my blessings.  It usually makes me feel better. Usually.

I am grateful that we have been able to avoid the golden handcuffs trap so far. But in our case, no handcuffs are required. Keith will keep working hard and giving his all to his job until he decides it's too demanding and he wants more time with the family. We will be waiting anxiously for that day.

We sat in those seats just yesterday

Recently, our family was invited to an information session at the adoption agency who helped us adopt our little girl. We were there to tell all about our journey and to answer questions.

In March of 2014 we were those people. A family came and spoke to the group and told of how they adopted their little boy from Ethiopia. He was so cute. I remember feeling awe and wonderment at this family formed out of tragedy. They had taken their own tragedy of infertility and their son's tragedy of not being with his first parents and turned it into something positive. I desperately wanted what they had.

A few weeks ago we WERE that family. I was super nervous. What would they think of us? Would they look at our family and wish they had what we have? That's what I was wishing when I was them. Would they think we were selfish for adopting a child when we already had two birth children? Would they ask hard questions? Or worse, no questions at all.

Would our three children behave themselves? They were fighting in the car on the way there and my husband and I joked that the people would see us and think, "never mind, we don't want kids after all."

I shared things with this group of strangers that I don't often share. We talked about our original plans to have children and how we had wanted six. We talked about secondary infertility and about what led us to adopt from China. I talked about post-adoption depression (just as real as post-partem depression, my friends.)

I talked about God and the role of faith on our journey. I said this to a room full of strangers. That was scary.

I wanted to tell them that we sat in those seats just yesterday. My favorite question was, "would you do it again?" I was so happy to say, "yes, we are already in the process!"

I would do it a hundred more times if I could.

I hope they invite us back to speak again.

It's not about the tiger

The world of door to door sales is cut throat. It's highly competitive. We lived it for 5 years, got out for 4 and have been back in it for 3 years and for the foreseeable future.

Not only is it competitive, but it's run mostly by youngish men. There aren't too many executives over 40 and no female ones that I've ever heard of. The combination of immaturity and testosterone make for an interesting culture.

Despite it's cultural downfalls, it is a great career path for a lot of people, my husband included. But, it hasn't exactly been easy on our marriage.

When he worked in a "normal" job he would come home and tell me all about everything. He talked about clients and about office politics and the people he worked with. Now, he comes home and tells me almost nothing and what he does tell me is about clients only. Is this because office politics don't exist? It's not. My theory is that he doesn't tell me because it's so pervasive that he doesn't want to upset me. The fact remains that he keeps things from me and so I have a hard time trusting him. I also don't trust the people he works for who created the kind of work environment that he feels he needs to conceal from his wife.

I saw a great quote the other day. It said something to the effect that trust is like a once perfectly smooth piece of paper. Someone breaking your trust is like crumpling the paper. It can be smoothed out but it will never be exactly the same as before.

From this perspective I share a story that is highly personal as I try to understand how we got to this point.

Every year my husband's employer throws a party. It's a formal affair with dinner and a casino theme and lots and lots of awards. The big wigs come and rub elbows with the little guys. It's something a lot of people look forward to and it was super important that I attend and show my support. I planned on attending. Then I found out that they were going to have a live tiger there for entertainment.

I'm not an animal rights activist but I felt super uncomfortable with this idea. It was supposed to be a surprise but I caught wind of it and expressed to Keith that I didn't want to go. He seemed hurt and angry with me. I felt hurt and angry that he didn't take my concerns seriously. Nobody did. He asked me what he had to do to make me feel okay about going to the party. I told him I wanted to know where they were getting the tiger. Was it a humane establishment? Did they have the proper permits? Was it legal? All we got was the run around. They said they were being secretive because it was a surprise. I didn't trust them.

Since I couldn't get answers I called an organization I consider to be the expert on the humane treatment of animals. My main goal was find out: 1) are there legitimate companies who rent out exotic animals for parties? 2) what are the laws in Maryland about this kind of business? 3) should I be concerned that the law is being violated? Some would say that PETA is a extremist group. Maybe they are and maybe they aren't but they were the only resource I had.

The representative I spoke to answered my questions. There are legitimate companies who rent out exotic animals for parties. These companies are technically legal, but it is not considered humane practice. Prince George's county requires a permit, which they didn't have. I had good reason to be concerned that the law was being violated. The main reason being the amount of secrecy surrounding the event. Once PETA got involved the tiger was sent back to where it came from and I became public enemy #1 in the eyes of everyone related to the event. I lost friends and the potential for future friendships.

I learned some things after everything went down that, had I known at the time, would have definitely changed the way I handled the situation. For example, they had a federal permit which might have superseded the county one.

In the end, I realized that it was never really about the tiger. It was about being kept in the dark, lied to and handled for so long that this plan veiled in secrecy made me automatically assume that it was not being done legitimately. If I had trusted my husband and his employers it wouldn't have made me so uncomfortable. The problem was that any trust I had was long gone by the time this occurred.

My husband really stood up for me. I'm grateful for that. His boss even apologized to me that they weren't more upfront and didn't take my concerns seriously. I know the real reason anybody at the company is nice to me at all is because of by husband. They want nothing to do with me. They love him and they know he's on my side no matter what so they tolerate me. Sometimes I wonder what they say about me behind by back but it's not a good train of thought.

I never really felt welcome attending my husband's work functions anyway so it's no big loss that I'm even less welcome. It hurts that he doesn't share things with me.

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?