I'm sorry. I lied.

Two posts ago I wrote one of the really wonderful things about being an adoptive parents is NOT projecting your gifts and expectations on your child, and allowing the child to reveal the person they are meant to be.

Last night I dreamed about Wynray as a young man. We were sitting at an outdoor cafe in New York City, sipping tea and still glowing, completely blissed out from the yoga class we'd just taken together. He was dressed like a hipster, with a knit hat framing his handsome and kind face. We were discussing important arty stuff. He was happy, interesting, and completely content spending time with me. I'm sure if I'd slept longer we would gone to a museum.

...and then he invited me to be his date to the Oscars. (Okay, I didn't dream that but that would be kind of awesome too.)

Yeah, about that not projecting nonsense...

Thoughts on adoption ethics...

I've been trying to find a way to broach this subject, and today I came across this post that sums up what I've been thinking and worrying about since we began Wynray's adoption process. Let me preface the link by saying we continue to wholeheartedly support international adoption, and IF we do walk down the adoption road again, we will look to Ethiopia and use the adoption agency we previously used.

I have seen first hand an orphanage with babies upon babies languishing in cribs, in a region in Ethiopia where adoption is not an option for them at the moment. I know they are not there because their birth parents were coerced, lied to, or misled.  There is no demand there, no waiting lists for babies from eager do-gooders (like me) in America. Those babies need families. However, I have heard story upon story of families (birth and adopted) living the nightmare of finding out the stories they were told by their agencies were completely false. Not just a few, but MANY. So many that one starts to believe in the adoption world that an ethical adoption is the exception not the rule. I feel overwhelmed with guilt that just by adding our name to a waiting list for a child, we in some way contributed to the DEMAND for babies.

But as I said, I have seen the need first hand, and I am not willing to throw the babies out with the bathwater. I am not willing to turn my back on those children I met in Awassa who still keep me awake at night. Despite the sad state of adoption ethics, they still deserve a family. An institution is not a proper substitute for a family. I have also seen first hand the PRECIOUS older children who have been waiting and waiting. There are no waiting lists for them.

We had a really good, if not long, process with our agency. We switched agencies in the middle of our paperwork when we saw some red flags with our previous agency. This slowed us down tremendously. But truthfully, we would have waited much longer to ensure transparency, or even walked away from the process if we sensed anything that seemed unethical.

We didn't NEED to adopt, we wanted a child. And we wanted a child who NEEDED us. I don't know if it was luck, or hoping and praying, or finding the right agency, or asking a million questions, or meeting the birth father, or sending an investigator to our son's birth village. But we feel completely confident the process with Wynray was transparent and completely ethical...and that he NEEDED us.

Let me be clear, we are not heroes, and Wynray is not lucky (that's right nurse in the pediatrician's office who kept telling Wynray he had won the golden ticket. *&^*%!!). We are just a family who wanted another child, willing to open our hearts to the adventure and blessing of adoption. We participated in an industry. An industry where big bucks are being moved around, and there is a great deal of corruption.

While I believe everyone comes into your life for a reason, I don't subscribe to the magical thinking Wynray was "meant" to be our son. We are Wynray's plan B. We will rise to the occasion and make his plan B the very best plan B we can be. But if I could turn back time and give his birth mother the medication she needed, I would do it in a heartbeat. It would probably kill me, because I love him more than I could have ever imaged. But I would do it because babies are meant to be with their mothers. There is magic though, and the magic is the tremendous love that grows and flowers, and seeps in through the cracks of your heart to find places you didn't know exist. The magic is making a family, an unlikely family, work and thrive and love.

Wynray's history and culture have become precious to us. But so have the lives and families of all Ethiopians and all humans. It is VITAL that we work on keeping families together first and foremost rather than offering up sending children away as the quick fix. As adoptive parents we must demand transparency, we must ask REALLY hard questions of ourselves, of our agency, and of the birth parents, we must be willing to walk away if it doesn't look or feel right, and we must verify with our very own hearts and eyes.

And we must educate our friends who might be considering adoption.

Please friends, read.
http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2013/05/14/examining-adoption-ethics-part-one

Redefining Genius

After having a little girl for 2.5 years before Wynray became part of our family, I often worried I just wouldn't "get" a little boy. Of course, this was after spending my entire pregnancy with Kysa worried if we had a girl I wouldn't "get" her either. I think in reality I was just worried about being able to connect with my kids, but I now think biological or adopted child, you get the kids you are suppose to have.

Most certainly, one of the joys of parenting an adopted child is you just never know what their "gifts" will be. While this is true with a biological child too, you still might have some clues.  For example, Kysa loves to dance and is really verbal. Shocker. But she's also a night owl and I'm a morning person.

I love that Wynray is a blank slate of expectation for us, He has none of my or Fredrik's "gifts" transposed on him with expectations. Every day is a new day for him to reveal a little more about himself, and for us to learn more about Wynray. This morning we learned he is a GENIUS.

Now, it hasn't taken me long to appreciate Wynray's gifts like his fast twitch muscle fiber super-soulful hugs, his lightening quick kinesthetic awareness, and his loud and expressive communication (screaming) done while running top speed through the house or climbing something treacherous like the stove, or his ability to carry heavy objects (like a skillet) through the house while I'm showering.

This morning Wynray did something extraordinary that earned him a place of reverent respect in my book. We co-sleep with Wynray, and he woke me at 6:30am with a love wack and hair tug. We snuggled for a few minutes and then he sat up and looked at me as if he had something very important to say.

....he grunted.....and I grunted back. He giggled.

....he roared.....and I roared back. He smiled at me knowingly as if to say, "ok, we're playing THAT game."

....and he growled.....and I growled back. He looked perplexed. He got a far off look in his eye that clearly asked "hmmmm how can I stump Mom?"

....then he locked eyes with me, took a deep breath, arched his back and farted....then gave me a look that said "top that"

Fredrik was awake by this time and we both cracked up as Wynray's face turned smug and triumphant. His wit was so QUICK, and his comedic timing was so SPOT ON.

So my friends, it is my humble opinion that humor is one of the highest forms of intelligence. Add to the superb comic timing the ability to control one's sphincter, and you have in my book an act of true genius.

I think I'm starting to "get" my boy.
You bet, I'm one proud mama.

Disclaimer: I realize there's been a lot of potty humor here lately, probably the lowest forms of humor. So while my son if proving to be a genius, his mom's brain cells may be dwindling. My apologies if I offend, but it's the reality I'm currently living in. I'd also like to point out I (used to) read LOTS of books, watch Downton Abbey, CBS Sunday Morning, and listen to NPR (though mostly these days I'm just turning up the volume to drown out the screaming while I stare off into space).

Today is for her.

Truth be told, I've been dreading this Mother's Day. Let's just cut to it. I became a mother this year because Wynray's first mother left her body and this physical world, leaving her husband, extended family, and precious baby boy. Truth be told, it was hard to put my feet on the ground this morning and go through the motions of being celebrated by my sweet family.

Today I dedicate to her.

And today I will give thanks for Aguwa, Wynray's great grandmother who was the midwife for his birth and who celebrated the life of our precious boy by making him beaded bracelets and a necklace.

Today I give thanks to the nannies who cared for my son so graciously, and loved him so well as he transitioned from his birth family to us.

And I am thankful for Cat, our adoption coordinator and "midwife." I have never laid eyes on her, but her kind voice brought me to my knees when she told us that we had a son on the other side of the planet.

I am also thinking of, and am thankful for the women (and men) who mothered Kysa when we left her to bring our sweet boy home.

And while today I'll be thinking of all the women who have mothered Wynray and Kysa, I think of Wynray's birth mother ALL the time. She is with me ALL the time. When Wynray is crying not only do my maternal instincts kick in, but I drop what I'm doing and run to him for her. When he took his first steps I squealed and hugged him an extra long time for both of us. When he's asleep in my arms I breathe him in and stroke his cheek knowing she did it first. When I am exhausted and my patience is thin, I remember her and dig a little deeper into my reserves.

Today I honor the mothers who have passed on, the mothers who have made sacrifices beyond what our hearts can comprehend. I honor the women who have lost their children through death, unethical adoption practices, or whatever choice or non-choice has separated mother and child. I honor the women who are sacrificing and struggling to feed, clothe, and provide a home for their children. I honor the blood, sweat and tears. I pray for healing.

I also honor the women who have not had biological or adopted children of their own, but still embody the verb "mother"...the women who educate and care for our children, heal our sick, create art, protect our planet, steward our animals, and soothe our souls.

And today I'm thinking of my sister experiencing her very first Mother's Day. And my own mother, and my ever present grandmother, who has been gone from this physical world many years, but makes her presence known through flowers and little girl magic.

This year the word mother has become a complex concept for me. This year becoming a mother has become a gift I can never repay.

Just now Wynray and I lit a candle and placed it beside a photo of his birth mother. I whispered "mama" and he pointed to her and smiled his sweet Wynray smile.

And then he rested his head on my shoulder.