Honey Grey Eyes

This kid, ya’ll. He’s pretty dang amazing. I love his personality, and watching him grow up, and laughing at his funny little ways of saying things. But my heart is so wistful from this weekend, when he was napping in the back seat of the car. The car was idling in the driveway, and I was reading my book, and when he woke up (scared), he just wanted a snuggle before going into the house.

In the clear afternoon light I got a real good look into this sweet boy’s face. And I was shocked. I’m sure I’d seen it before, but dismissed it until I was ready to face the truth. My baby no longer has blue eyes. He’ll be turning three, and while it might have been four or six or eight months that we’ve been living with this truth, I now cannot hide from the truth. He’s a honey grey green eyed boy (what, is that classified as hazel?).

They’re beautiful eyes. Clear and muddy at the same time. Speckled green and gray and seem to change in the light. But they aren’t blue, or blue-green like mine, and that’s where the wistfulness comes in. I knew it was inevitable. I knew that the blonde blue eyed baby that seemed miraculous odds against a dark hair dark eyed dominant gene pool. I have loved looking into a face that resembles my own so much, but this beautiful hard part about parenting is also letting him get to be the wonderful little boy that he is. And that means embracing the sweet honey grey green eyed toddler who says “pooperman” because he can’t pronounce superman.

Water Loving Genes

When I was a young kid, I was OBSESSED with the water. I mean, obsessed. Like, I wanted to be in the water so badly that my mom gave up trying to control this urge, and let me plunge fully into any body of water over 2 inches deep…in my dresses. Because I was also a super girly tomboy who climbed trees and wore dresses EVERY DAY until I was in 4th grade. 

One of my favorite memories was going to a park with some friends, and normally this wading pool (shaped like an Orca) was dried up (because it wasn’t summertime), but this one time it was FULL OF WATER and I went full on swimming, in a pale yellow dress with puffy sleeves. Pretty sure parenting me was like trying to  stop a rushing river. 

At any rate, I’ve noticed a similar trend with Potamus. He shouts “water!” whenever he sees a body of water, and the other day I had to drag him away from running headlong into Lake Washington. And we had plans that didn’t involve soggy clothes, so I had to say ‘no,’ which resulted in a meltdown of epic proportions. 

It makes me wonder if a preference for swimming, or being around water, is a genetic preference, or just a being-a-kid thing. Because he’s seriously obsessed. Except with showers. He’s not a fan of showers. 

Genetic Mirroring

Potamus with pigtails?

I am pre-occupied with looks, specifically the looks of my child in relation to my own and my husband’s. When Potamus was born, everyone was shocked by his blonde hair and blue eyes. At almost two his eyes have turned hazel, but he’s still blonde as the day he was born. But most people think that he looks like Boof, which is hard for me…and I think it all goes back to being adopted, and being raised in a family where my looks weren’t reflected back and nobody said “oh, she looks like great aunt millie.”

I think my son actually looks quite a bit like me. His personality is quite a bit like my own, with his little mischievous side, but his sweetness is reminiscent of stories I’ve heard about Boof as a child. Every once in awhile Potamus will give a look, make an expression, that makes me think of his dad, but for the most part, when I look at my sweet child I see myself as a baby looking back. So why am I so surprised or frustrated when people don’t notice the way he resembles me?

What Runs in Biological Families? An Adoptee Explores…

As a child I was obsessed with Mt. Rainier. OBSESSED. As in, I wanted to live there permanently. Whenever we would camp I would eagerly go to the visitor center, join the junior ranger program, and read books about wildflowers and animal tracks. By the time I was in highschool I had 42 of 84 wildflowers of the North Cascades memorized by sight. I mean, I said I was obsessed.

Because I loved being outdoors so much, I decided (at the tender age of 9) that I wanted to be a park or forest ranger. And I knew that my dream was to be a park ranger in the Ohanaepcosh campground of Mt. Rainier. Or worse, down the road at the La Wis Wis campground (which was always our backup campground). It wasn’t until 11th grade that I gave up that dream, after meeting a gal at an environmental camp that casually mentioned the regulation changes for park rangers, that they had to attend police academy and carry a firearm. That sealed it for me, being a park ranger was out…I would NOT carry a gun for work. Not because I was opposed to guns in the backcountry (Grizzlies and mountain lions aren’t to be messed with people!), but because I didn’t want to be a law enforcement officer in a national park. I didn’t want to have to shoot someone. Nope. No thanks.

So I’m having dinner with my bio dad, and we were chatting about the crazy wildfires happening here in Washington…and he said, “Well, you know, my sister stopped being a forest ranger when she had to deploy her fire shelter on the fire line.”

And then I remembered that my bio aunt had been a forest ranger. Whoa. Uncanny, right? And where did she work? La Wis Wis campground. OF ALL PLACES, she worked right down the road, as a forest ranger, from where I wanted to work from 9-17. Whoa. And we got to talking, but he finally said, “But then the laws changed, and she stopped doing it because she didn’t want to carry a gun.”

He happened to say that at the EXACT same time that I said the reason that tipped me over the edge was when I didn’t want to carry a gun.

Whoa.

Whoa.

Right?

When researching your family history, any crazy “whoa, that’s just like me?” stories? Share away…

Adoption Reunion: Meeting my Great-Uncle

The beautiful thing about technology, is that it has opened up the possibility for reunion with my biological family. Starting way back in 2005, when I looked up my 1/2 sister on Myspace and contacted her, I have had an online reunion with biologicla family members. And the family circle widened even further when Facebook came into play. So, a few years ago (I think? the math is getting kinda fuzzy in my head), my great-uncle (maternal grandfather’s younger brother) reached out to me on Facebook and we hit it off. Which was SO refreshing, since I haven’t yet hit it off with my maternal side of the family. His older brother, (my grandpa) is kinda weird and hard to get to know, and chain-smokes more than a chimney, and is obsessed with Mayan calendars (haven’t called to see about his current obsession since the world didn’t end). We just…didn’t click. But Great-Uncle and I seem to have a very similar worldview, way of writing online, and from Day 1 it seemed completely…well…NATURAL!

So, we’ve corresponded via message and he loves seeing pictures of his great-great nephew, but lives all the way up in the great white North and doesn’t make it down to Seattle that often. Until last week. He was in town for 36 hours and we had bantered before about meeting up so he could finally give my son a hug, but I wasn’t sure the short time-frame would work with his schedule. Unlike my grandpa/grandma, he offered to drive to my work and meet me for lunch because he wanted to meet us. For those of you who don’t know, the drive from where he was up north of Seattle, to the Eastside, in traffic probably took a good 2 hours. AND THEN he would drive all the way back to Canada, get on a ferry, and go home. Yeah, my great-uncle rocks the socks, because he basically drove 4 hours out of his way to see me and meet Potamus.

And, by the look on my kiddo’s face, we clearly had a great time!

It’s funny, though, the day I met my great-uncle, I learned that my adoptive great-uncle had died.

The world is strange.

Adoption Terminology

What do you call your natural/first/birth/biological mother/father/family? Why? Are there different rules for different family members? What term(s) is not acceptable to you? How do you refer to them to others? If you’re in reunion, do you introduce them the same way? How does your natural/first/birth/biological mother family feel about the term? Does it matter to them? What about your adoptive family?

In real life, I refer to my adoptive parents as my parents, and my adoptive siblings as my brother and sister. Only in blogoland, when trying to differentiate or emphasize my adoptedness, do I call them my adoptive parents. When I introduce them to others, I introduce them as my parents. And only when someone makes an assholey comment about how tall I am, do I tell them that I am adopted.

In real life I introduce my biological/first dad as J, since that is his name. Sometimes I might introduce him as my biodad if it’s in a situation where people are going to wonder a) why he’s there and b) why he looks so much like me. He introduces me as his daughter, which I love. If I am nowhere near my adoptive family or my in-laws, I introduce him as my dad, or as my father. In blogging, or online, I refer to him as my natural/first dad for those who are schooled in proper adoptee language, and biological/birth dad for those who might be confused by the former langauge. I don’t get my panties too in a twist about what terminology I use for him, what annoys me is when people “correct” my use of a certain term. I will decide what I damn well please, thankyouverymuch.

My biological mother, on the other hand, is always my biolgical mother or birth mother in conversation. Perhaps I use her given name, E, and sometimes when I am feeling very generous online or want to fit in with my peeps, I use the most accepted ‘first mom/natural mom’ bit. I don’t get the chance to introduce her to people, as she is so messed up with drugs/alcohol that I very rarely even get to see her in her home, let alone out in publice. Which I am fine with.

I don’t really know how my biological family feels about what I call them. And I don’t actually care. I mean, they relinquished me to be raised by strangers, I don’t really think they get much say in what  I call them. And my adoptive parents refer to them as my birthparents, or J as J, but I also don’t care what they think about what I call them. I think, that, as long as I’m not refering to THEM as my adoptive parents in public (or private) they should be fine.

Adoption & Sex Education

Growing up adopted had the benefit of never imagining my parents having sex. And, unlike my other friends, I was never confronted with the  reality that they were having sex, because I never walked in on them, or heard late-night noises, or came across anything that would indicate they were anything other than completely celibate. And both the adoption narrative and the conservative Christian ideology completely supported my worldview.

Because, I had assumed that, since sex was to make babies, that my parents had tried, once, and found that they couldn’t make babies that way, so they went the route of adoption. And the sex-education that my parents began teaching (in 2nd grade mind you, WAY ahead of the public school system), was “age appropriate” and biologically based. The one book I remember them using, was by Dr. Dobson, or some other Christian big-whig, and talked all about abstinence and how my body was changing. I knew so much factual information about sex, that by 9th grade, when we had moved across the mountains, I got annoyed at the immature students who would snicker when the word boob was mentioned.

The problem with the way my adoptive family approached sex, was that they forgot all mention of how it would feel, so when I was making-out in the car with my first boyfriend and had the urge to take off all my clothes, it frankly surprised me. I didn’t want a baby, and sex was about making babies, but hot damn it felt good and that was quite a conundrum.

When my parents found out, they were, FURIOUS and the most hurtful thing out of their mouth was, “are you trying to be like her?”

Never before had the contempt for my young, knocked up, birthmother been so apparent. They had clearly tried their best to keep the judgmental attitude toward her a secret, though their words confirmed what they thought of her: a whore. And I, her daughter, was nothing short of the apple falling from the tree.

Of course, looking back now from both an adult and counselor perspective, it was no accident that I began having sex at the same age my biological mother did, and that I was working out some psychological issues and trying to connect with myself and with my mother. I want to believe that if my parents had had the tools to recognize that, they might have had more compassion, but I doubt it.

Adoption & Siblings

Do you have siblings in your adoptive family? Were they also adopted or not? What was your relationship like in regards to adoption? If you are in reunion, did you find siblings as part of your search? How you been affected by your sibling relationships? If you searched and found siblings, and had adoptive siblings, what has that been like? If you don’t have siblings, have you found any benefits to being an only child?

Yes, I have siblings, both biological and adopted. Our relationships are complicated.

My little half-sisters are biologically related to me, but there is such a generation gap that they function more like my nieces that I see a few times a year. My half-brother and sister on my biological mom’s side are the same age as my adoptive siblings, but it’s weird trying to get to know people that age who are family and yet not family.

They grew up a different religion, socieo-economic class and in a different area, so there is a  huge cultural difference that is hard to overcome.

My adoptive brother is most recently in my life in a close-way because we both have kids, though we would not really be friends outside of that, because of such a difference in philosophies on work, religion, politics, etc. We relate on a familial level because we are both, now, parents, but I sometimes find it hard to talk with him about much else.

I am probably closest to my adoptive sister.

Though, this weekend I did something dumb. Something super passive-aggressive and un-becoming of an almost-30-year old.

I unfriended her on facebook.

Sigh.

Yeah, I am that kind of person.

In my mind I have all sorts of justifications for it, but mostly I was hurt, and have been hurt, not as much by her actions, but by the actions of her live-in-boyfriend-almost-fiance.

It as triggered by a sequence of photos from their trip to see her biological family in Oregon. I wonder if my reaction would have been as strong if it hadn’t been a vacation there, though I am not inherently jealous of her other family. It was that he was in the pictures with her. And from previous conversations with her, I know that he “just loves them. It’s so easy with them. They don’t judge him, and it’s just relaxed, rather than when he’s around mom & dad he feels judged and they’re always asking them questions.”

So, in my head, I am annoyed because once again it seems like she is in a relationship with a selfish jerk who expects her to spend time with his family, and he can make time to travel 4 hours to Oregon, but can’t come to my parents house in the same town as them, or visit Seattle when my sister does…like…for Potamus’ baptism or say, this Thanksgiving. But he can make time to train to be a cage-fighter (un, he’s 32) and visit her other family in Oregon.

Major butt-hurt right here.

And I blame my sister because she has done this over-and-over-and-over with different guys. So I’m frustrated with her because she keeps choosing guys that treat her family like poop. But I’m also frustrated that he doesn’t love her enough to make an effort with us.

Wanting to change my relationships with my siblings is a challenge. Mutual adult relationships are difficult, and I often find it easier to hang out with friends because we have some of those mutual beliefs, interests, shared grown-up experiences together, that aren’t accompanied by the baggage of family.

Happy Birthday Dad(s)

Today is my adoptive father’s birthday. Ten days ago was my biological dad’s birthday. I have failed to do anything to celebrate these birthdays for the past few years. Even with setting a reminder on my phone, I have still managed to forget and then send a “crap, it was your birthday and I missed it,” text (for my biological dad), or a “happy birthday, the card’s in the mail” text to my adoptive dad (which then means I have to run to the story, buy a card and mail it ASAP or he’ll get suspicious as why it’s taking so long.

The subjects of birthdays are hard for me, though, since the idea of celebrating a birth reminds me of the time that I was born and then promptly given to strangers to be raised. I’ve hard that my fellow adoptees feel similarly. And November is the month of dad birthdays, which means we are heading into December and my own, and Potamus’s, which I hope will be fun, but I’ve already begun to feel the emotional meltdowns happening.

But this isn’t about me. This is about my dads. Happy Birthday to both of you!

Personal Opinion on Adoption

What is your opinion of adoption today? Are you in favor of or against adoption, and how do various circumstances affect your opinion? Has your opinion changed over time? If so, what caused you to rethink your former opinion? What do you think is the biggest need for change in the adoption industry or is the current model for adoption fine the way it is?

I am fundamentally a family preservationist. My opinion is both influenced by my adoptee status, as well as my professional work as a mental health professional specializing in adoption, foster-care and crisis work.

I believe that women and men should be supported in raising their children, regardless of their parental age, socio-economic status, race, or educational achievement level.

I believe that women should bond with their babies after birth before they make the decision whether they can or want to raise their children, because hormones and emotions are powerful, and even I, an almost-30-first time mom with a Master’s degree/home/good job/partner did not believe, while pregnant, that I could do it.

I believe when individuals do not wish to parent, that children should be raised by close biological kin…aunts, uncles, grandparents, or cousins.

And when children are unable to be raised by biological kin, I believe they should be cared for by fictive kin, (“aunties” or neighbors or members of the church/synagogue) and be able to retain their original identity as a member of their biological family.

I believe that children should have a safe place to grow up, free from neglect and abuse.

I believe in providing homes for children who need homes, and not babies for individuals who want babies.

I do not believe that adoption is the ultimate answer to the statements above.

But if adoption has to happen, I believe that it should be open, and legally enforced custody arrangement on both sides, so that a “birth parent” cannot cause an adoptee to lose access to their family, and an adoptive family cannot simply decide to close the adoption for whatever whim they decide.

Because, the way I see, it, adoption as a system, is so flawed that it can be considered broken. This may seem shocking to people, because from a dominate narrative, adoption is a booming wonderful industry that is bringing “forever families” together. I see it very differently. I see the number of viable adoptable infants going down each year, because of a greater support system for un-wed young moms, and the money on marketing toward women in order to coerce or influence an adoption plan when a woman could be supported in keeping her baby is going up. I, in fact, am a victim of the pervasive subversive supply and demand need by the ever starving adoption industry.

I had gone in for my first wellness check with Potamus, around 12 weeks or so into my pregnancy, and the whole tone of the appointment changed when the nurse learned that Potamus was not, in fact, planned. The next thing out of her mouth was, “have you considered adoption?”

Potamus was not a child languishing in an orphanage because of abuse and neglect, and I was not some crack-whore who needed my kid taken from me. But I was nervous about pregnancy and whether I could do it, and I can only imagine that if I had been younger or with less support, even I might have fallen victim to such preying-on tactics. And I believe that it is unacceptable for that to take place.

But adoption is a booming business, and needs mothers to be separated from their children in order for cash-paying couples to get what they want.

It’s gruesome to look at it that way, but it is the truth. Money changes hand. You can try say that the money I spend in a restaurant is to go for the servers and the cookers and the dining room chairs, but, I am, at the end of the day, buying a burger to eat. And that is how current adoption is functioning, here in America. When money gets involved the corruption skyrockets.

And then, we take our shiny American dollar and go into a foreign country where it is worth MUCH more and see children who (legitimately) need to be cared for…but then people realize that there is money to be made, and the (equally legitimate) trafficking of children happens. This is why countries have shut down their international adoptions, because American dollars flood a poor economy, and women feel forced to relinquish kids, or they are kidnapped, and sold into rings where they are made available for American adoptions. Nepal. Vietnam. Guatamala. Ethiopia. Check it out, it is disgusting…AND takes away from children who might also legitimately need homes or to be cared for.

So, if I were to change anything, it would be the money aspect. And the society’s rosy color glass belief that adoption is really a win-win situation for everyone. But that’s probably a topic for another day.