“Mother’s Day brings to mind fresh flowers, blueberry pancakes and homemade cards. It’s a day to be spoiled and fêted by family. But for me, an adoptive mother, it’s never as simple as the Hallmark holiday it’s touted to be.

Don’t get me wrong: I feel deep joy in my role as mom to my two-and-a-half-year-old son, and I marvel at his giddy joie de vivre. But the way I arrived at motherhood will always be bittersweet. In order for me to become a mom, another mother had to lose a child.”

> Read the rest at Today’s Parent

Before we adopted I was very pro open adoption. I knew it was best for our son to know his roots and also felt closed adoption was cruel to birthparents. I failed to factor in how our relationship would unfold or how I would feel over time. Open adoption is hard emotional work, something I didn’t fully realize until I became an active participant. We’ve had regular in-person visits with Theo’s birthfamily since he was born. In earlier visits, it was common for one of us to break down under the sheer unspoken weight of what was going on. Fast forward almost three years, and our visits have lightened considerably. We now leave Theo with his birthparents and go out for brunch returning later to catch up.

But on to the question at hand:

How do I feel after a visit from Theo’s birthparents? I feel euphoric. I feel extreme joy. I feel relieved. Why? Not because “it’s over” but because inevitably, it went really well. Theo knows his birthparents better each time he sees them as do I. I get to see them grow up and make plans for their future.  I like them as people. I want to hear about their lives and their opinions. I hang onto every word. I want to know everything. I find myself starting at their features and mannersims looking for clues. I feel privileged and grateful that we get to unabashedly share Theo amazingness. As another adoptive parent pointed out, birthparents may be the only people as enamoured with our child as we are!

Now ask me how I feel before a visit. Anxious isn’t a big enough word. ANXIOUS is more like it. The prospect of a visit brings up all my deepest fears around adoption. In an attempt to manage them, I obsessively clean the house: scouring, sorting, rearranging and fretting. I worry that the house will be a disaster. Then I worry that it will be too clean. I worry that Theo’s room won’t be cute enough. I worry that the fridge is too empty or too full. I worry that Theo will be a toddlery disaster, and we’ll look like bad parents. I worry that if Theo is in fine form, we’ll look redundant. I worry that when his birthparents see him, they’ll regret placing him for adoption or feel guilty that they did. I worry and worry and worry … until they arrive, and then all my fears vanish.

The more visits we have, the better I feel, and I believe the feeling is mutual.

Dipping.

He can name an impressive number of local marine-life: sharks, stingrays, sea turtles, jelly fish, belugas, dolphins, and all kinds of fish thanks to the Vancouver Aquarium.

Sea turtle!

He eats sushi.

Miso soup is a good place to start.

His friends represent a range of ethnicities.

He spent his first year-and-half  in a muddy buddy.

He experiences planet confusion and may think the sun is actually the moon.

He owns an umbrella, and rubber boots are his most-worn footwear.

He makes frequent requests to “throw rocks in the ocean.”

Whoa!

He takes puddle splashing to a whole new level.

He has no idea what mitts are for.

He’s seen a Dragon Dance.

Gung Hey Fat Choy

He’s been brainwashed by his Dad into thinking the Canucks had a chance at The Cup.

Go Canucks Go!

Reading the paper sideways.

1. Christmas dinner noting a large turkey: “Oh! Chicken, it’s a BIG one!”
2. To my brother-in-law: “Um … Uncle Darlene?”
3. In bed: “Gugu?” No. “Juice?” No. “Water?” No. “Snack? Car? Drumming? Running? …”
4. Time’s up: Mark: “Ten minutes, and we’re going to lie down.” Theo: “No! Four minutes!”
5. Getting to the root of Theo’s eating issues: “No like food!”
6. Seeing the sun for the first time in a month: “Mama, Moon! Moon!”
7. At a coffee shop: “Hey lady! Latte!”
8. Ordering breakfast at the Aquarium: Theo: “BACON!” Me: Um .. excuse me. Theo: “Oh. Bacon peese.”
9. At Granville Island: “Mom? I want eat birds?”  (He wanted to feed the pigeons.)
10. After recently seeing a photo of a Christmas light display: “I wanna go to Christmas!”
11. Upon seeing a man with white hair and a short beard. “Ho-ho? … Dat ho-ho?” (He calls Santa ho-ho).
12. In the car: “What’s an eee-it?” (idiot)
13. At a Japanese restaurant: “Pickles! Lookit! Pickles!” (We finally noticed a large bowl of lollipops).
14. General: “Oh my God; that’s crazy.”

What kooky things do your little kids say [insert novel]? 

Biggest Changes

Food

Captured on film eating an apple.

After a year of our nagging, bribing, cajoling and hand-wringing, Theo suddenly started eating “real food.” In the last two months, he’s eaten a stunning range of meals including (but not restricted to): agedashi tofu, Filipino Tsinagang and caldareta, salmon, asparagus and salads. He’s also eating pizza, pasta and grilled sandwiches. He’s still a huge bacon fan but now he’ll eat blueberry pancakes as well. When he begs for a snack, I can hand him an apple, and he’s happy! His milk consumption has plummeted, and we no longer go through 8-12 litres a week.

Sleep

Why nap when I can paint?

About the time he started eating, he had a few weeks of rough nights and then promptly dropped his naps. Now he goes to bed soundly by 8 and is down for about 11 hours. A couple of times a week, he needs a catchup nap. The upside is we don’t have to rush out of the house or leave events to “get home for the nap.” The downside is we can’t go out late, and Theo looks a little ragged from about 5-7pm.

Words
He’s now at the parroting stage. He frequently says: “That’s crazy!” or “Oh my goodness!” He’s a relentless asker of  ”What’s that?” and “What happened?!” He often gets words and names head-scratchingly but hilariously wrong. Example: He asked Lolo for a candy cane, which seemed odd in March, until Lolo realized that he wanted to watch The Lion King. At a Japanese restaurant, he ran in yelling “Pickle! Pickle!” while pointing to large bowl of lollipops. We went out for the day with my friend’s parents and he called her father (who is in his 70s), Dad! the entire time.

Obsessions

Driving outside Solly's.

The truck obsession continues unabated. He can “drive” for hours.

Outings

Playing with birdseed on Granville Island.

Current faves are “schweeming” AKA jumping in the pool, the aquarium, Granville Island, and throwing rocks in large or small bodies of water. He’s also partial to playing with Ben, Aiden, Hatou, Ravi, Khai, Anna, or Sam.

Books/Media

Where's Goldbug?

The book du jour for now is the timeless and delightful Cars and Trucks and Things That Go (by Richard Scarry) with an emphasis on finding Goldbug. Any book featuring trucks will do in a pinch. We also read Goodnight Moon and The Going to Bed Book before bed. He continues to be a mega-fan of The Wiggles and could watch The Lion King on repeat.

Tantrums

No tantrums in this photo!

I felt scarred by a spate of tantrums a few weeks ago but I’m getting better at spotting stormy weather and tuning in to triggers. I need to avoid extended time in crowded spaces with lots of small children, give lots of warning before we make a change, and be on the lookout for signs of fatigue, hunger or overstimulation. The other tantrum tip off where there is no turning back occurs when he starts asking for something and refusing it and then asking and refusing. Example: “I want juice!” I hand over  a juice. “No want juice!” I take it back. “Want juice!” and so it goes. If I don’t play along, hysteria ensues, and there’s no escape. Head trip! I’ve also noticed that he can go weeks without tantrums so that’s nice!

New frontiers

Walking the dog.

He’s longer, leaner and moves like a boy. He’s exceptionally friendly, which can be disconcerting to the kids he hones in on with a loud, “Come here!” while he shoves a toy in their hands and leads them away by the arm. Recently, he walked a small dog along a the gravel path in Steveston yelling Stop! Come Here! and generally  bossing the dog around. He tries to cut up his food and move it on to a fork to eat it like we do. He puts on his own socks boots and shoes and gamely tries to get his clothes on himself. He knows what a party is and a present and associates the car or stroller with an exciting adventure. He’s curious about the world around him and loves a good laugh. Onwards! Yes, you 3, we’re looking at you!

What’s new with your toddler these days?

When reading Somebody’s Child, an un-put-downable collection of 25 short personal stories on adoption, I was unexpectedly struck by Beth Grosart’s Abandoned but Loved. Unexpected because on the surface, it has nothing in common with our local, open adoption.

Beth was a well-adjusted, happy 26-year-old when her parents took her to visit the Korean orphanage  she was adopted from. Since she was girl, her parents had told her a heartwarming narrative about how she flew half way around the world as a baby to join her family in the US, and how her birthmother loved her so much, she wanted to give a better life .

When they arrive at the orphanage, an administrator looks her up in a book and says out loud that Beth was “abandoned by her mother at the hospital in 1982.” The word abandoned shocks and stuns her. She feels devastated and confused realizing that her birthmother did not lovingly place her for adoption like she’d heard all her life. Beth can’t regain her composure. She feels a hole open up inside her but doesn’t say anything and blindly follows her parents around the orphanage feeling shattered.

I’ve always disliked the word abandoned just like I dislike the word unwanted in relation to adoption. Whenever I hear it, I think that a mother (or father) at her wits end, was so desperate, the only thing she can think to do was leave the baby on the orphanage steps, at a hospital or police station or roadside where the baby will be found. Even local stories of babies in left in dumpsters or bathrooms point to a person without hope, without means, who acted out of fear and desperation. To me, it doesn’t mean they did not, or could not, care, love or wish a healthy future for their baby.

But what I learned from the story is that sugarcoating our children’s beginnings does not serve them well in the long run. If you know something about your child’s history that is uncomfortable, at some point, you need to tell them, so they can grieve it, accept it, and move from there.  The worst thing is for them to find out later and feel duped.

Now, that’s easy for me to say given we don’t have a difficult history to contend with but I have grappled with how to explain his adoption to Theo. First off all, part of me wants to keep him in this toddler cocoon where he only thinks of us as his parents. I also want to use the right words. I don’t want to say, “Your birthparents were too young”  (What? Young people can’t be parents?). I don’t want to say, “They placed you for adoption because they loved you.” (If they loved me, why did they place me for adoption?).  Nor do I want to use the “better life line,” which leads to all kinds of questions. But I do know that when the time comes, I will start by telling Theo that his birthparents made a brave and difficult decision to find him a couple who were ready and able to be his parents, and that all of us love him very much.

Somebody’s Child, Stories about Adoption (TouchWood Editions) was edited by Bruce Gillespie and Lynne Van Luven.

Recommended reading: Telling the Truth to Your Adopted or Foster Child: Making Sense of the Past

How have you approached talking about adoption or difficult information with your children?

Prospective adoptive parents are desperate and will do anything for a baby
Truth: Prospective adopters are driven, focussed and patient. Most people who are able to have children biologically can’t imagine what’s like to have that deep cellular ability taken away. Wanting to be a mom or dad, to care for children, to be a family, is a basic desire. So yes, prospective adopters want very much to be parents. We will travel around the world, endure the whims of legal shifts and changes, drain our bank accounts, be rejected by potential birthparents, and wait years to become a family. Does that make us desperate? I think it just makes us normal.

Adoptive parents win and everyone else loses
Truth: Most prospective adoptive couples have endured heartbreak in the form of  multiple miscarriages, stillbirths, cancer or illness at a young age that have made childbirth impossible not to mention multiple invasive medical procedures. Add the loss of the dream of family, and there are scars that can take a lifetime to heal. Adoptive parents are not out to take other people’s children; they are ready to raise a child who needs the love and stability of a family

Adoptive parents agree to openness in order to get a baby
Truth: The jury is out on openness. It’s best for birthparents to know how their children are doing. It’s best for adoptive children to know their roots, to know their biology and where possible, know the people involved in their creation. And as an adoptive parent, I want what’s best for my child. I want him to know where he came from, that he is loved not just by us, but by his birthfamily as well. I want him to know why he was placed with us and not carry around a fantasy that is shattered later in life as was the case in so many closed adoptions of the past. And I want his birthparents to know him because it’s important to them to know him and to see him thrive, and because I care about them.

* I understand the economic disparities that often exist in adoption. I simply want to point out that by North American standards, adoptive parents aren’t necessarily wealthy.

Are you an adoptive parent? Do you feel that there are myths and stereotypes about who you are?

“We do have a zeal for laughter in most situations, give or take a dentist.”
~Joseph Heller, author of Catch-22

Luckily for Theo, he’s more of a “give” on the dentist front. I mean really, what’s not to love? The sunglasses, the bright light overhead, the chair that goes up and down, the squirty mouth-rinser, the endless stream of compliments, the prize, the free toothbrush?

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