Beneath the tough exterior

This post was written yesterday by my friend Kristi of Fireworks and Fireflies. After reading it, I asked her to please let me share it with all of you. Kristi is currently in China with her family finishing up the adoption of this little beauty, now forever known as Darcy.


She's stunning, isn't she?

Ian and I continue to be blown away by this pint sized addition to our family. She appears so "tough" and confident at first glance.

I keep having to remind myself that she is not yet three. In fact, one of the other moms thought she was almost five. It's because of how tall she is and how much she can do on her own.

There have been times as I've watched her as she brushes her teeth, washes her hair, or try to put on her own clothes and wondered what was going on in that little mind. Is it all to impress us? Does she feel like her "big girl" abilities are necessary for us to accept her?

It would be so easy to just back off and let her do it all by herself. But every now and then the tough exterior weakens a bit. She'll stop fighting me as I step in to help her turn her shirt the right way or lift her up to the sink instead of letting her drag the stool over so that she can reach the faucet.

And then there are the moments that she's tired when she'll start rubbing the back of her left arm over her eyes and whimpering ever so slightly. So I've been scooping her into my arms and soothing her in my little bits of Mandarin. And each time she lets me cradle her for just a couple of minutes and then the smile returns and "brave girl" Darcy comes back.

Until last night. She and Caleb got into a disagreement over whose Kung Fu Panda techo music spinning top was whose (never mind that the second and third ones were laying right beside them) and Darcy slammed the pocket door separating the bedroom and living room. I gently told her no and opened the door, and then she slammed it again. So the no was a little firmer the second time. And then the wall came down.

I held my baby girl for some 30 minutes as she sobbed. While it may have started because of the scolding, the spell had nothing to do with being told no. It was more about getting used to her new life. It was heartbreaking, but it was time. And while I hate being part of the cause, I'm so relieved that she's starting to trust me enough to let down her guard. I also have no doubt that there will be more grieving to come. Who wouldn't be sad, angry, confused, and scared if their world suddenly drastically changed. I don't know if I could be as brave as she is.

But one of my favorite songs by Third Day keeps running through my mind. It says, "I can't stop the rain, but I can hold you 'til it goes away." (It's a beautiful song, check it out!) So I will be there from now until the rest of my life to ride out the storms with my sweet little one. Because we're family now. And that is the miracle of this journey...

standing {out} for {something} good

Wanted or unwanted, being a transracial family means we attract attention.

Just today, my girls and I were eating lunch when an older lady sitting nearby asked, "What part of Asia are they from?" and then asked if she could give each of my girls a dollar bill. We kindly accepted the monetary gift even though it felt a bit odd. My daughters were delighted to get a treat but I was left wondering what motivated her actions. Would she have still done this if my children were white or if I were Asian? There was another young mom and her toddler that did not receive any attention from our fellow diner.

Living in a very homogeneous part of the country, we are used to standing out. Most of the attention we draw is from prospective adoptive families or fellow adoptive families. Then there are the well wishers that want to say something to affirm our decision to adopt internationally. Even if their wording may not be well crafted, I try to be polite and thankful in my responses. I'd rather affirm them for their ability to recognize adoption, which I hope is the first step to understanding the blessing of adoption. Our family can show the world that adoption is what we wanted... not what we ended up with as some still believe.

I didn't always like being in the spotlight but now, like it or not, I am an ambassador for the adoption community. While most of the attention and comments are kindhearted, there have been some that were motivated out of banal curiosity or worse racial prejudice. Thankfully these incidents are few and far between, but now that my oldest is 5-years old, she remembers them with great clarity...more importantly she remembers how I handle myself in these situations.

While playing at our neighborhood park last year, a young boy called my daughter a racial slur directed toward Chinese which I won't repeat. He also insisted she must be a laundry maid because her hair is black. Since he was maybe 5-years old, I'm guessing his poor opinion of Asians and Hispanics was taught to him by his parents. And because he was at the park with his less than observant nanny, I couldn't even speak to a parent to address his terrible behavior (which wasn't limited to his mouth). So I did the next best thing and spoke with the boy directly and told him that this is a place to have fun, not be mean, and that his comments were hurtful and cruel. I thought about leaving at that moment, but decided to put my daughter on the swings where she would be "safe" but still enjoy her special trip to the park.

I never had to deal with these issues when I was a child. I spent 30 years of my life blending in. With the exception of living in Japan, I have always been able to disappear into a crowd of Caucasians. Nothing about my hair color or height is remarkable, but when I became a mom of an extremely outgoing Chinese baby, I discovered I would never be in the shadows again. And frankly, I'm okay with that, because if one member of my family is going to stand out, I want to make sure she isn't standing out there alone.

There are things that make each of our families unique. Some differences are visible, such as transracial adoption or a special need, but most are less visible, such as our values and our beliefs. Our family and our children will always be noticed in some way. When we do stand out, I want to stand for something good. I don't want others to just see charity for an orphan (which may have prompted the $1 gifts). I want them to see the joy of adoption, the genuine love of a mother for her children and the blessing of those children. It is a message all parents can portray, but as we stand out in adoption we have more opportunities to say it.

mother therapy

As parents, we naturally look for our child's accomplishments. It is a unique gift we've been given. An Olympian can have his whole country cheering for him, but the only people he wants to see in the stands are his mom and dad.

When my 2-year old daughter Lydia runs a crayon across a piece of paper, she immediately calls for me to look and cheer for her accomplishment, even if it's just a scribble. I am glad she wants my praise because it is easy to give. How can anyone ignore these eyes?!

She has grown so much in the year since she came home. Despite having only one functioning ear, she can hear a pin drop and mimic a tune. Her words may not be absolutely clear, but those that know her can understand what she's asking for. All the tests by the doctors just confirmed what we already knew... that she is a healthy baby... a lot on the petite side true to her Jiangxi roots. We have spent the last year marveling at the person Lydia is becoming. It was us, her parents, rejoicing loudest of all when she overcame separation anxiety at the church nursery.

But despite all her many achievements, I have found myself becoming her worst critic. The weekly flow of therapists in our home is beginning to wear on me. With each visit, we talk about Lydia's weaknesses and after each visit, I find myself suddenly becoming discontent with her progress. I don't like feeling this way. I don't like measuring my daughter up against some standard set by a council.

I have only myself to blame for this. I was the one that sought out these early intervention assessments for Lydia. Because of her special need, I wanted to be sure we weren't missing something. I wanted to ensure her vocabulary would develop properly. I am thankful these services exist and that many of them are covered by insurance or provided free through the state. The speech, occupational and physical therapists we've met with have provided us with good information and observations. If you asked me six months ago about glottal sounds and sensory disorders, I would have given you a blank stare. Now I can hear when Lydia is using her throat versus her lips to produce words. I can also see that her need for constant movement may be connected to a need for sensory stimulation and not her plot to exhaust me by 8am.

I see merit in the services these therapists are providing, but lately I've felt that I need to stop participating in the cross-analysis of Lydia. I need to focus on her accomplishments and stop looking for all her weaknesses. My daughter doesn't need a 24/7 analyst at home.

On the one hand, I'm happy to have a few "babysitters" visit each week and play with my daughter, but I need to step away from all the scrutiny they bring. I need to see her as my daughter and not a special needs patient. The love and nurturing I can provide is more powerful than any therapy session. She needs me encouraging her to use any words, even the glottal ones. She needs me chasing after her and cuddling with her. She needs me to be her mother... not her therapist. They get an hour each week but I get a lifetime!

She will have many coaches, teachers, doctors and specialists in her life... but she will have only one mother.

We can be family and not look the same

The other night we were preparing to visit friends of ours that adopted from Ethiopia (a sibling set of four children that includes twins!)

As I was reviewing the names of their children with my 5-year old LeighAnna, she said that she remembered playing with the oldest (bio) daughter. I reminded LeighAnna that now there were two older girls to play with and that they were sisters even though they looked different... just like we look different as mother and daughter.

My daughter's absolute understanding of this was made known in her following statement:

"Oh Mom, I know we can be family and not look the same. Lydia and I are sisters and we don't look anything alike... because she has short hair and I have long hair!"

There isn't a strand of DNA among us that is the same.

We are four completely different individuals, but we are one family.

This is marriage.

This is adoption.

How do we choose?

One of my biggest concerns in adoption was choosing our child. I worried that allowing us to be involved in picking a child would bring my fears and anxieties into the mix and somehow mess things up. When we adopted our oldest daughter through the non-special needs (NSN) program in 2005, China did the matching. I never even considered saying no to her referral. In my eyes, the process seemed like a very "divine" way to choose a child since it was out of our hands.

When we switched to the special needs (SN) program for our second adoption, we knew the referral process was going to differ greatly from our first adoption. Although we had a more proactive role in our second adoption, we discovered that our daughter Lydia had also been chosen for us by God’s providence.

Although the special needs checklist had initially seemed daunting, we found we were open to quite a few conditions. However a medical definition takes on a whole new meaning when it is connected to a specific child with a unique history. But I still wondered how we would be able to choose when the very nature of the shared list required speed and certainty.

A month after switching to the SN program, we got our first referral call. It went NOTHING like I expected. There was no warning of being "on deck" for referral. Instead I was caught completely off guard. After three long years of waiting, I was surprised to find little impulse in accepting this referral, and we declined. Our agency completely understood and set to work matching the child with another family on the list.

We were content to wait until the next month when more children would be released to the list, which explains why I was again caught off guard when the second referral call came the very next day! But before our agency could even send us the email, the file disappeared off the list to another agency.

I could now see how different this process was going to be from our first adoption. But despite how unpredictable it seemed, God was using these circumstances to guide our decision.

Just when I thought I was prepared for everything, we got a third call. Unfortunately the call came as I was driving my husband home from the hospital. He was sick as a dog and completely unable to talk with me about this very important decision. The little girl was older than we'd expected and had multiple needs... some being very unclear in her paperwork. We asked for 24 hours to review her file even though we knew that her file could disappear at any moment.

By the next day, after my husband’s fever broke and we could talk and pray, we had resolved to say yes. We called our agency to accept her file, however just 5 minutes prior to that, she was locked in by another agency. Instead of disappointment, I was so thankful for every second of that day we had spent reviewing her file and praying over her. Instead of seeing it as a loss, we rejoiced that she was going to be adopted! But we did begin wondering if we would EVER find OUR child on that list!

The day after our 14th wedding anniversary, our agency called again. I guessed who was calling at 6:30am, but was hesitant to answer the phone. This time together for the call, my husband and I poured over the file of an 8 month old girl in Jiangxi province. I didn't allow myself to even look at her pictures until we thoroughly read her bio. Her special need was unilateral microtia and aural atresia. She also had a diagnosis of possible Hepatitis B. After a quick call to a doctor friend, we made a decision to accept her file within 15 minutes. There was not the same doubt and hesitation we felt with the first three referrals. We knew this was our daughter. Although the path to finding Lydia had been a very new and different experience, we had as much confidence in accepting her referral as we had with our first adoption.

In a few weeks, we will celebrate one year with Lydia! We rejoice daily for this wonderful child growing in our home and in our hearts. We see more and more how she was designed for our family... and we for her!

I wish there was some formula I could give you to explain how to confidently choose a child from the special needs list, but there is no formula. It’s such a varied and complex process because each child and each family going through this process are unique. Some may not feel an affirmation in their decision until after the child is home. Others will “just know” the moment they lay eyes on a picture (perhaps the story we hear most often).

My conclusion is that deciding on a child is a very personal and unique process that combines both practical and emotional considerations, assessing one’s motives and most of all trust.

All I can offer is our unique story of how we trusted God to guide our decision. Regardless of how our children come home… on the special needs list or NSN list… domestic or international… birth or adoption… we have been chosen to be their parents.

Whether they are healthy or in need of care… whether they love us readily or struggle with attachment… God has chosen us to be a family. We can find confidence in knowing that he has been purposeful in bringing us together.