At what point do I tell them the story?
As the kids grow older and our circle of new friends grows and expands, I’m finding myself asking the question more often. While standing at our park, talking to Gabriel’s (girl) friend’s mom, I wonder… should I tell her? Will this change the way she feels about Gabriel, our family? What if she tells her daughter and the message is spread throughout the school? I wouldn’t want them to be teased.
As sad as it sounds, I still deal with my internal struggle of telling people our children are adopted. While it seems it is only one part of us being a family, it is strange how often the fact that we adopted each other is front and center in our life. At the grocery store, the clerk comments, "Wow, your boys are so tan compared to your daughter." Or at the post office waiting in the ever present line, “Your boys and daughter have such beautiful eyes. They must get them from your husband” (as he’s usually at work and its just the kids and I)". Or at school, at the beginning of the year, when the teacher sends home a million “tell me about your kid” forms that parents need to complete. We’ve been a part of the boy’s lives now for more than half of their life, and yet, I still find myself questioning, if I need to even share the news that they are adopted with their teachers. For some reason, maybe it is all of those classes we had to take before becoming, “prepared enough to be a parent” that instilled a fear in me that their behaviors, their choice to talk in class with their best friends who are sitting next to them, just have to result from being adopted. So darn it, I best let the teachers know. Silly, right?
Silly is how I feel. I’m never sure how to bring it up or what to say. Take for example, the baseball moms I meet and hang out with during season. Several of them, I only know because their kid is on the same team as mine. We have very little in common, other than our sons play ball; but for the better part of three months, we get to know each other, while sweating buckets in the AZ heat and chasing our other kids around. And internally, I struggle with what to do.
When Isabelle was a baby (still teeny tiny), Gabriel was in ball and as a clan does, we all loaded up and went to support him. Being that she was only weeks/months old, people would make comments, “You look so great for having such a little baby.” And I was caught off guard. I didn’t know if I should stop them, mid-complement, to say, “You don’t have to say that, see I didn’t give birth to her.” And a couple of times, when my mouth spoke before my mind could finish processing, I said it. Insert awkward moment. Instead of me with the open mouth unsure how to react, I instead stared at the face of the mom, who just tried to issue me a complement, unsure what she should say next. And the reactions, that’s another strange thing.
When people, mostly other moms, find out we adopted, I get some very interesting responses. Honestly, not all of them that nice. Just last week we were at the park. Isabelle wanted to swing next to another little girl who was being pushed by her mom. The conversations all start the same, “How old is your daughter?” “Two”, I respond. "Oh she’s so petite, I bet your labor was easy." Why do mom’s always want to talk about births? Maybe because it really is as traumatic as it sound like it is to me. Maybe it is a rite of passage to have the most painful, longest birth story in history. For not ever having given birth, I’ve heard my fair share. I should get some charity mom points for that shouldn’t I? Anyway, after having the mom ask me about my “easy birth”, I responded, “Oh we adopted our daughter, so the birth was really easy for me!” My typical response, that I attempt to make light-hearted, so the other person doesn't have to feel awkward. Never mind that it usually backfires. This case, was no exception. The mom, while previously looking straight forward at her daughter she was pushing on the swing, turned her head, stared right at me and said, “Oh I’m sorry, you can’t have your own kids?”
And in that moment, where I wanted to respond in a not-so-nice manner by saying, “No, I can have my own kids, its just they were born to a different mother,” I instead responded, “Yes, I am not able to get pregnant. We are VERY thankful for our three children.” While I know most people don’t mean to say things that are hurtful or condescending, the truth is, their comments do hurt. I try to remind myself that people may not be familiar with adoption and don't realize how their comments may be perceived. Really, before us going through all the classes and developing such close relationships to those that have also adopted, I probably was one of those people. One of those, insert-foot-into-mouth women.
At this point of pushing our daughters on the swings, I could tell she felt weird. I felt hurt but tried my best not to let it show and we attempted to carry on our awkward conversation. It wasn’t like her daughter or my daughter were anywhere close to being finished with the swings. And so she tried to dig herself out of the hole she stepped into. “You said you have three children, are the others here?” “Yes,” I replied, there’s my oldest son, he’s now 8 and my middle son is 6.” She continued, “Wow, so you adopted them when they were babies?” Contemplating just lying and saying yes to avoid another “interesting” conversation, I instead chose to tell the truth (a lie always comes back to bite you right?). I said, “No, we adopted them when they were three and four.” “Oh she said, “What did they call you then since they probably knew you weren’t their mom?” This conversation was going so lovely, I could hardly wait to come up with an excuse to leave. “Actually they called me mom from the moment we met them. They knew that we were going to be their forever family. They understood what was happening.” I said, anticipating the next question she would ask. She realized she had yet again, some-what insulted me and said, “Well I suppose it was hard for them to attach to you and your husband since they were so old.” I must have, at this point given her a look because before I could jump in, she said, “I knew someone who adopted a 9-year-old from an international orphanage and they had the hardest time bonding. I remember her saying she never felt like the child she adopted was her’s.” Upon hearing her one and only perspective on adoption, I knew then why she asked the questions she did and why she responded with such "interesting" comments.
Sadly, I know I can’t change everyone's opinion on adoption. There are still those mean stereotypes out there in common talk, “You’re so ..., you must be adopted.” "You're ..., you must have been adopted" I’m sure we’ve all heard them. I remember as a child, we joked my sister must have been adopted because she didn’t look like my other sister and brother. The three of us looked more like my dad while she resembled my mom’s side. And as ashamed as I am to admit it now, the truth is, we said it. Was it right? No. Was it pure stupidity (my boys would be mad I’m saying bad words) and a lack of sensitivity, and ignorance as to why it was such a mean thing to say? Absolutely.
It’s kind of funny now looking back because the reality is my extended family’s world is so connected to adoption. Maybe it’s karma. While my sister and her husband are on track to adopt, Jarrett and I are so thankful for the gift of adoption. It’s a good karma.
And that’s why I struggle. Why do so many think of adoption as a 2nd place choice, a back-up plan, maybe a bronze medal standing (I thought the reference appropriate given the Olympics are on at our house constantly). Why it is that when I share with a stranger that my children are adopted, they immediately express condolences to me because I did not birth my lovelies from my own body? Oh I’m sorry you can’t have your own babies, so you have to adopt someone elses. While the truth is for us, we did try to get pregnant, and when that didn't work we started pursuing adoption. What is also the truth, is that, my children do feel that they are my own, that they possess my qualities, just like those mothers who share genes with their children. I can't imagine any other children being mine. I believe we were created in a master plan to be each other's family. And that itself, is not settling for a bronze metal or taking second place. I'm confident that is one similarity we share with other families, adopted or not.
And so, I don’t know how to respond. Standing at the swings with Gabriel’s friend's mom, talking about her 2-year-old son and comparing him to our 2-year-old daughter, I know the next question that’s coming. I try with all my might to keep the conversation as far as possible from the labor question. So, what sports is your older son in? Are you doing anything for spring break? Man, that was quite the dog that person had. I try… but i know the question will come and I have to make a decision.
At what point do I tell them? I'm still not sure.
Until next time,
Angie
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