Dear China Mommy,
Our daughter will be turning six in a few weeks. She decided she wants a bowling party and put her foot down about who will be invited.
Her whole fricking kindergarten class.
I had said, you have one person more than you are old, but she talked me around. She said she wanted these people and then Hilly.
"Who is Hilly?" I asked.
"You know her, she's the one who doesn't sit and she wanders around the room and hums a lot."
Oh. I thought. The autistic girl. I looked at her face.
"I don't think she gets invited to a lot of birthday parties, mommy. I think it makes her sad. She doesn't hurt anyone and she's not mean and I want to invite her, even if her mommy says no." I nodded. I couldn't speak, you see, because I had this lump in my throat.
Did she get this compassion from you? Did she get it from me? Did it mingle together from both of us?
So why are we inviting the whole class when she wants to invite Hilly? So she doesn't feel singled out. Or that's what I think she was trying to tell me. Sometimes I don't understand what she's trying to communicate, but most of the time I do.
Our daughter is about three and a half feet tall. She is so graceful -- definitely your influence. Her smile can light a world.
She's lost her first tooth and the permanent one has come in crooked. Orthodontia is in our future.
She's learning to read and she says how "Words just pop out at her." as she looks around.
She asked why you left her to be found. She asked if she was bad. I was driving and I pulled over so I could stare into her eyes and tell her that it was not at all because she was bad. I told her that we would likely never know the full reasons but I had some guesses.
I think it was because she was premature. I think you were scared as hell that her lungs were underdeveloped and took her to where she could be treated. Even if it meant never seeing her again. I sometimes wonder if it was not you who took her to that place, if it was a family member who you have yet to forgive.
Her school is far more white than the daycare and pre-K she attended. She notices that. I think she's been made fun of, but if she has it's rolled off her back as our daughter does not start fights. She does tend to finish them.
Our daughter takes stalling to go to bed to an Olympic sport. But she knows that if she asks for more hugs we will give them.
Our daughter has an incredible capacity to love. She has an empathetic quality that is rare in 60 year olds, not only 6 year olds. But she has it. I believe it was put there by you, nurtured by me and her father.
Today she asked, for the n-teenth time, for me to tell her the story of when we first met. I told her again. But today she asked, Why did I stop crying when I heard you sing.
I gave a few suggestions and she kept shaking her head.
"Okay, Lotus, Why did you stop crying?"
"Because I recognized you. You weren't China Mommy, you were my mommy." She sighed as she saw my eyes fill. "Happy tears?" She asked--she's used to this by now. I nodded. We cuddled. Then she asked to send some love to you. And we hugged and sent some of our love to you.
I hope you feel the love that our daughter feels for you.
I hope you know the love and unspeakable gratitude that I feel for you.
God be with you, wherever and whatever you need,
Love
Your daughter's mommy.
Showing posts with label Adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Adoption. Show all posts
Monday, April 9, 2018
Monday, December 11, 2017
What I know, what I suspect
Dear Lotus,
You asked me what I know about China Mommy. The answer is not much.
You asked me about China Daddy--and I know even less about him.
Here is what I know.
China Mommy wanted you.
Though you were born four years before the end of the one- child policy, it was waning. China Mommy could have gotten an abortion at any time, and she chose not to. For that I am more grateful than any words could possibly suggest. But your very existence says that she wanted you. She wanted to hold you and love you and watch you grow into the incredible woman that you will become. That I get to do this instead of her is so bittersweet.
China Mommy was young.
Word choices on the note she left with you indicate her youth.
China Mommy was thinking ahead.
She left the date and time of your birth. I didn't know until my students started giving me Chinese culture lessons how important that is, but it is and she did it for you.
You were left to be found.
Like the cliche, you were found on the steps of the SWI with a note. You were placed in a spot where you could not have been missed. Someone made damn certain that you were found and found quickly.
Someone in the orphanage nursed you.
Two days after we met you, we took you swimming. I had changed you into your bathing suit and put you on the bed in the hotel. I changed into my bathing suit and found two little hands on my left breast. You latched on before I could think about what was happening and--OW. It made me sad that I had no milk for you but grateful for the woman who had nursed you.
Here is what I suspect.
China Daddy (or perhaps China Mommy) was caucasian.
When I walk with you alone or when Daddy walks with you alone no one thinks to ask if you are adopted. There is a great deal of caucasian in your features. Your hair and my hair are the same in texture and color. Almost every one of our Asian friends have remarked that you look half. It matters not at all to me, but someday it might matter to you.
I suspect other things, but they are for your ears and eyes first.
One more thing I know.
Your life is everything to us.
Your happiness is everything to us.
We love you more than I ever knew it was possible to love.
That's it.
You asked me what I know about China Mommy. The answer is not much.
You asked me about China Daddy--and I know even less about him.
Here is what I know.
China Mommy wanted you.
Though you were born four years before the end of the one- child policy, it was waning. China Mommy could have gotten an abortion at any time, and she chose not to. For that I am more grateful than any words could possibly suggest. But your very existence says that she wanted you. She wanted to hold you and love you and watch you grow into the incredible woman that you will become. That I get to do this instead of her is so bittersweet.
China Mommy was young.
Word choices on the note she left with you indicate her youth.
China Mommy was thinking ahead.
She left the date and time of your birth. I didn't know until my students started giving me Chinese culture lessons how important that is, but it is and she did it for you.
You were left to be found.
Like the cliche, you were found on the steps of the SWI with a note. You were placed in a spot where you could not have been missed. Someone made damn certain that you were found and found quickly.
Someone in the orphanage nursed you.
Two days after we met you, we took you swimming. I had changed you into your bathing suit and put you on the bed in the hotel. I changed into my bathing suit and found two little hands on my left breast. You latched on before I could think about what was happening and--OW. It made me sad that I had no milk for you but grateful for the woman who had nursed you.
China Daddy (or perhaps China Mommy) was caucasian.
When I walk with you alone or when Daddy walks with you alone no one thinks to ask if you are adopted. There is a great deal of caucasian in your features. Your hair and my hair are the same in texture and color. Almost every one of our Asian friends have remarked that you look half. It matters not at all to me, but someday it might matter to you.
I suspect other things, but they are for your ears and eyes first.
One more thing I know.
Your life is everything to us.
Your happiness is everything to us.
We love you more than I ever knew it was possible to love.
That's it.
Monday, December 4, 2017
Lotus Loves Me - Microblog Monday
A few nights ago Lotus had a waking something.
I don't really know how to describe it.
She talks in her sleep and from what she said she was back in the orphanage.
She talked about being hungry. She talked about another little girl "Mei Mei." She talked about her Mama and Baba who were coming.
It was like she was reliving her memories. It was like she finally got to a point where she could process them. Where she could talk about them in a way I could understand. But she was asleep.
When I talked to her about it in the morning she said, no she didn't dream about China and told me an elaborate dream she had. I don't really know what happened.
Except I now have a little window as to what life was like there. And that's okay.
I don't really know how to describe it.
She talks in her sleep and from what she said she was back in the orphanage.
She talked about being hungry. She talked about another little girl "Mei Mei." She talked about her Mama and Baba who were coming.
It was like she was reliving her memories. It was like she finally got to a point where she could process them. Where she could talk about them in a way I could understand. But she was asleep.
When I talked to her about it in the morning she said, no she didn't dream about China and told me an elaborate dream she had. I don't really know what happened.
Except I now have a little window as to what life was like there. And that's okay.
Monday, November 6, 2017
Microblog Monday - Tales from the snot monster
So, I'm sick.
My husband came home with the cold. He suffered and gave it to Lotus. She suffered and made sure she cuddled her mommy hard. I have been given the cold.
I am the snot monster.
Because Lotus doesn't feel well we have been spending an inordinate amount of time watching children's television. Lotus' new favorite is My Little Pony at Equestria High. It has been an abrupt shift from Vampirina.
Vampirina is the love child of the Addams family and the Munsters. Lotus loves it. or...she did. This week there was a new episode on. Yay. I wasn't paying attention as I know that a new episode of Vampirina to Lotus is like a new episode of Scandal to her mommy. Basically it means that the world could explode and she would just be making sure that she got the rest of the show. All of a sudden Lotus cries out--"I don't like this one. I want it off." I looked up to find that one of Vampirina's family has been packed in a crate (by accident) and given away. To say that Lotus found this too close to home would be an understatement. She came on my lap and together we watched how Vampirina went through all hoops to get the family back. We turned it off and hugged for a while. It wasn't too long before we got the question. "Did China mommy leave me by accident?"
There are often so many triggers for adoptees. Tangled, Finding Dory, but I admit I didn't see this one coming. I just have to roll with the punches, much like I'm teaching Lotus to.
And hoping to get rid of the snot monster.
My husband came home with the cold. He suffered and gave it to Lotus. She suffered and made sure she cuddled her mommy hard. I have been given the cold.
I am the snot monster.
Because Lotus doesn't feel well we have been spending an inordinate amount of time watching children's television. Lotus' new favorite is My Little Pony at Equestria High. It has been an abrupt shift from Vampirina.
Vampirina is the love child of the Addams family and the Munsters. Lotus loves it. or...she did. This week there was a new episode on. Yay. I wasn't paying attention as I know that a new episode of Vampirina to Lotus is like a new episode of Scandal to her mommy. Basically it means that the world could explode and she would just be making sure that she got the rest of the show. All of a sudden Lotus cries out--"I don't like this one. I want it off." I looked up to find that one of Vampirina's family has been packed in a crate (by accident) and given away. To say that Lotus found this too close to home would be an understatement. She came on my lap and together we watched how Vampirina went through all hoops to get the family back. We turned it off and hugged for a while. It wasn't too long before we got the question. "Did China mommy leave me by accident?"
There are often so many triggers for adoptees. Tangled, Finding Dory, but I admit I didn't see this one coming. I just have to roll with the punches, much like I'm teaching Lotus to.
And hoping to get rid of the snot monster.
Monday, September 4, 2017
Microblog Monday - They go there
Lotus is sick.
I am sick.
D is not feeling well.
So we tried to get Lotus to bed without her usual routine. We wanted to go to sleep. We put her in her bed in our room and tried to sleep. Lotus started to cry that she couldn't sleep. She hadn't laid her head on the pillow for more than three minutes. She started to whine that she needed help and I brought her into our bed to cuddle. I rocked her and she kept saying how she needed help. She wanted hugs and I was short with her because I felt lousy.
I held her, checked for fever and she had none. I sang to her and she told me to stop. She hugged me tight.
And I remembered.
I remembered going to the orphanage where she spent the first 54 weeks of her life.
I remembered seeing the room full of cribs. We were pointed to the one she had slept in. Then we saw two cribs on the outside of the room. When we asked about the two cribs, our translator said that it was for the children for when they were "naughty or sick."
The immediate effect of this was that from that moment to now, Lotus has never slept in a room alone. We've been subtlety trying to move her. First she was in our bed. Then in her crib in our room. Then in her toddler bed in our room. Its slow going but it's worth the trip to make her feel confident.
As she was in my arms, I thought of my little Lotus as a baby. When she was sick she was taken away from all the other children and brought to be alone. I understand this--I do. If you are looking after a bunch of babies and one is sick you need to separate her or you have a roomful of sick babies. But it gave her lizard brain a lesson. If I'm sick I'm going to be separated from everyone else. Once she cuddled on me, I told her over and over that I loved her. I told her over and over that she was safe and no way would we leave her.
Now I'm kicking myself for not realizing what scared her. I hate the fact that she has that part of her brain that believes that we will leave her when she is sick. D, an adoptee, reminded me that they go there. A part of her will always go there. It's up to me to show her that we will love her with everything that we are for as long as we live.
I am sick.
D is not feeling well.
So we tried to get Lotus to bed without her usual routine. We wanted to go to sleep. We put her in her bed in our room and tried to sleep. Lotus started to cry that she couldn't sleep. She hadn't laid her head on the pillow for more than three minutes. She started to whine that she needed help and I brought her into our bed to cuddle. I rocked her and she kept saying how she needed help. She wanted hugs and I was short with her because I felt lousy.
I held her, checked for fever and she had none. I sang to her and she told me to stop. She hugged me tight.
And I remembered.
I remembered going to the orphanage where she spent the first 54 weeks of her life.
I remembered seeing the room full of cribs. We were pointed to the one she had slept in. Then we saw two cribs on the outside of the room. When we asked about the two cribs, our translator said that it was for the children for when they were "naughty or sick."
The immediate effect of this was that from that moment to now, Lotus has never slept in a room alone. We've been subtlety trying to move her. First she was in our bed. Then in her crib in our room. Then in her toddler bed in our room. Its slow going but it's worth the trip to make her feel confident.
As she was in my arms, I thought of my little Lotus as a baby. When she was sick she was taken away from all the other children and brought to be alone. I understand this--I do. If you are looking after a bunch of babies and one is sick you need to separate her or you have a roomful of sick babies. But it gave her lizard brain a lesson. If I'm sick I'm going to be separated from everyone else. Once she cuddled on me, I told her over and over that I loved her. I told her over and over that she was safe and no way would we leave her.
Now I'm kicking myself for not realizing what scared her. I hate the fact that she has that part of her brain that believes that we will leave her when she is sick. D, an adoptee, reminded me that they go there. A part of her will always go there. It's up to me to show her that we will love her with everything that we are for as long as we live.
Monday, May 29, 2017
Microblog Monday - The Unasked Question
Lotus is 5 now.
I'm calling this stage the question stage.
"Why are skunks stinky? Why is poopy brown? Why is it raining? Why is the sun shining? Why did that Octonaught do something?"
I love the curious mind behind the questions.
I wish she would actually listen to my answers instead of repeating the question again and again and again.
But there is one question that has not been asked.
"Why was I left to be found?'
We talk about her adoption often if not daily.
"Why do I have brown eyes?"
"Because China Mommy has brown eyes."
"Can we go visit China Mommy?"
"We don't really know who she is."
"Google her."
We talk about how she lived in the orphanage and how the Aya took care of her. We talk about Aya and how she smelled and tasted. How it is okay to miss her Aya and I'm not mad that she does. We've talked about D's biological mommy and how Grandmom adopted D just like we adopted her.
She asked me once if Daddy was mad at China mommy. Then she rephrased her question to mean his biological mommy. I said she should ask Daddy. She gave me a look and repeated the question. I said that yes, sometimes Daddy is angry at his bio mommy. Her sigh of relief was huge. I asked if she was mad at China mommy.
She gave me one of those looks--the one that makes me wonder if there could possibly be a seventy year old woman gazing out of my child's eyes. Then she nodded. I told her it's okay to be angry. Then she asked me, "Is China mommy mad at me?"
I said no. Then I braced for it. "Why did she leave me?" And it never came.
It will. I know it will. Then I will have to talk about a cultural preference for girls. I will have to explain about the one-child policy. I will have to state my own ignorance.
But until then, I'm happy and exasperated to answer the other myriad of questions she has. Like a few days ago she asked, "Mommy, what's an asshole and how come so many of them drive?"
I'm calling this stage the question stage.
"Why are skunks stinky? Why is poopy brown? Why is it raining? Why is the sun shining? Why did that Octonaught do something?"
I love the curious mind behind the questions.
I wish she would actually listen to my answers instead of repeating the question again and again and again.
But there is one question that has not been asked.
"Why was I left to be found?'
We talk about her adoption often if not daily.
"Why do I have brown eyes?"
"Because China Mommy has brown eyes."
"Can we go visit China Mommy?"
"We don't really know who she is."
"Google her."
We talk about how she lived in the orphanage and how the Aya took care of her. We talk about Aya and how she smelled and tasted. How it is okay to miss her Aya and I'm not mad that she does. We've talked about D's biological mommy and how Grandmom adopted D just like we adopted her.
She asked me once if Daddy was mad at China mommy. Then she rephrased her question to mean his biological mommy. I said she should ask Daddy. She gave me a look and repeated the question. I said that yes, sometimes Daddy is angry at his bio mommy. Her sigh of relief was huge. I asked if she was mad at China mommy.
She gave me one of those looks--the one that makes me wonder if there could possibly be a seventy year old woman gazing out of my child's eyes. Then she nodded. I told her it's okay to be angry. Then she asked me, "Is China mommy mad at me?"
I said no. Then I braced for it. "Why did she leave me?" And it never came.
It will. I know it will. Then I will have to talk about a cultural preference for girls. I will have to explain about the one-child policy. I will have to state my own ignorance.
But until then, I'm happy and exasperated to answer the other myriad of questions she has. Like a few days ago she asked, "Mommy, what's an asshole and how come so many of them drive?"
Monday, May 22, 2017
Microblog Monday - Bravery
So, on Friday, which happened to be the fourth anniversary of meeting Lotus for the first time, it was time for Lotus' Kindergarten Orientation.
She was nervous. Heck with her, I was nervous.
Her questions were simple--would the teachers be nice? Would the other kids be nice?
Mine were not so simple.
Would there be other Asians in her class?
Would she be bullied?
Would she bully?
Would school take her love of learning and make it horrible?
Would she be safe?
These are just the top five--I have so many more questions as I'm watching my baby turn into my child.
So together we walked to school and sat with other parents and their kids. I started to make some introductions but Lotus had a death grip on my hand and so we talked and looked around. I looked at the folder with the agenda for the afternoon and it had that the kids would go to the kindergarten room and the principal and others would talk to the parents. I started explaining this to Lotus and her eyes started to fill with tears. I hugged her and she quieted as the orientation began.
First off a bunch of the current kindergarten class came out and sang songs. Yay. Lotus loves to sing and dance. They sang 4 and she knew all but 1 and the one she didn't know looked like fun. Then the teacher asked that the kindergarteners-to-be line up. Lotus hugged me.
"You're not going home?"
"Not without you." She thought about it and rested her head on me for a little. She watched other kids go on the line.
A few other kids were having fits. The one on the chair next to us was not leaving her mom. Lotus went over to her and said "want to go together?" The response from the other child was decidedly negative. Lotus came back, gave me a hug and stood on the line with the other kids. Her chin was quivering, just a little, but she met my eyes and smiled at me. As they walked out she waved at me and I waved back. Then, as she had done four years before, she lifted her head and looked into what comes next. Someone said something to her so my last image of her at that moment was walking away, head held high, with a little smile.
I didn't hear the first part of the discussion because I was musing about how brave my little girl is. How she walked into what came next with a smile on her face. I thought of the smiles we got shortly after we met her, when she was playing cute. I remember how breathtaking it was when we saw her real smile--the one with her dimple--four days later. I thought of how the journey from baby to child never takes as long as you think it will.
I thought of the song I first sung to her. You'll Be in my Heart from Tarzan. More specifically the second verse.
"For one so small, you seem so strong.
My arms will hold you keep you safe and warm.
This bond between us, can't be broken.
I will be here, don't you cry."
I lifted my head. Smiled. Then I listened to the rules that I, as a kindergarten parent would be expected to follow. I added a few. Be brave. Smile. Walk into the future with head held high.
She was nervous. Heck with her, I was nervous.
Her questions were simple--would the teachers be nice? Would the other kids be nice?
Mine were not so simple.
Would there be other Asians in her class?
Would she be bullied?
Would she bully?
Would school take her love of learning and make it horrible?
Would she be safe?
These are just the top five--I have so many more questions as I'm watching my baby turn into my child.
So together we walked to school and sat with other parents and their kids. I started to make some introductions but Lotus had a death grip on my hand and so we talked and looked around. I looked at the folder with the agenda for the afternoon and it had that the kids would go to the kindergarten room and the principal and others would talk to the parents. I started explaining this to Lotus and her eyes started to fill with tears. I hugged her and she quieted as the orientation began.
First off a bunch of the current kindergarten class came out and sang songs. Yay. Lotus loves to sing and dance. They sang 4 and she knew all but 1 and the one she didn't know looked like fun. Then the teacher asked that the kindergarteners-to-be line up. Lotus hugged me.
"You're not going home?"
"Not without you." She thought about it and rested her head on me for a little. She watched other kids go on the line.
A few other kids were having fits. The one on the chair next to us was not leaving her mom. Lotus went over to her and said "want to go together?" The response from the other child was decidedly negative. Lotus came back, gave me a hug and stood on the line with the other kids. Her chin was quivering, just a little, but she met my eyes and smiled at me. As they walked out she waved at me and I waved back. Then, as she had done four years before, she lifted her head and looked into what comes next. Someone said something to her so my last image of her at that moment was walking away, head held high, with a little smile.
I didn't hear the first part of the discussion because I was musing about how brave my little girl is. How she walked into what came next with a smile on her face. I thought of the smiles we got shortly after we met her, when she was playing cute. I remember how breathtaking it was when we saw her real smile--the one with her dimple--four days later. I thought of how the journey from baby to child never takes as long as you think it will.
I thought of the song I first sung to her. You'll Be in my Heart from Tarzan. More specifically the second verse.
"For one so small, you seem so strong.
My arms will hold you keep you safe and warm.
This bond between us, can't be broken.
I will be here, don't you cry."
I lifted my head. Smiled. Then I listened to the rules that I, as a kindergarten parent would be expected to follow. I added a few. Be brave. Smile. Walk into the future with head held high.
Monday, April 24, 2017
Microblog Mondays -To China Mommy
Dear China Mommy,
Our daughter turns five in a week.
She seems to have developed a fear of heights. That is, until I sit down while she's at the playground and she is off climbing something that she maybe shouldn't be and calling for me.
I love that she pushes her own limits.
She is sounding out words and can recognize over thirty written words. She's going to be reading by herself soon and it humbles me.
Any time she thinks we're angry at her she declares that she needs a hug. We give her one.
We nurture her. We let her watch a bit too much TV, and run herd on her computer and phone time. She's friendly with a lot of the kids at school, but not a lot of playdates, Kindergarten starts in September so I imagine that will change.
She falls down and scrapes her knees and ankles. when that happens, and there is even a spec of blood she requires a band-aid so she can't see it. My thoughts of a doctor to support us in our old age are out the window.
She hates loud noises, but will put up with them
She still does her parent checks in the middle of the night. She wakes up and asks us to tuck her in again. Actually the checks are closer to dawn. Is that when you left her in her finding spot? Was it close to dawn as you kissed her little hands and left? Did you look back? Or did you know that if you looked back you would have run and picked her up and I would not be writing this blog post, or not to you.
She asks us often why we love her. Why we like her.
I tell her.
Because she deserves love.
I tell her.
Because she is wonderful and kind and beautiful and all good things.
I tell her and I hug her.
Sometimes I get angry at you, for putting fear in our daughter.
Sometimes I feel sorry for you, because I have her, hold her, nurture her and all you can do is wonder.
I respect you.
I bless you.
I thank you.
Our daughter turns five in a week.
She seems to have developed a fear of heights. That is, until I sit down while she's at the playground and she is off climbing something that she maybe shouldn't be and calling for me.
I love that she pushes her own limits.
She is sounding out words and can recognize over thirty written words. She's going to be reading by herself soon and it humbles me.
Any time she thinks we're angry at her she declares that she needs a hug. We give her one.
We nurture her. We let her watch a bit too much TV, and run herd on her computer and phone time. She's friendly with a lot of the kids at school, but not a lot of playdates, Kindergarten starts in September so I imagine that will change.
She falls down and scrapes her knees and ankles. when that happens, and there is even a spec of blood she requires a band-aid so she can't see it. My thoughts of a doctor to support us in our old age are out the window.
She hates loud noises, but will put up with them
She still does her parent checks in the middle of the night. She wakes up and asks us to tuck her in again. Actually the checks are closer to dawn. Is that when you left her in her finding spot? Was it close to dawn as you kissed her little hands and left? Did you look back? Or did you know that if you looked back you would have run and picked her up and I would not be writing this blog post, or not to you.
She asks us often why we love her. Why we like her.
I tell her.
Because she deserves love.
I tell her.
Because she is wonderful and kind and beautiful and all good things.
I tell her and I hug her.
Sometimes I get angry at you, for putting fear in our daughter.
Sometimes I feel sorry for you, because I have her, hold her, nurture her and all you can do is wonder.
I respect you.
I bless you.
I thank you.
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
An important bit of nothing
Today we readopted Lotus.
We filled out more paperwork.
We went to a court and a judge
smiled at our daughter
and pronounced her our daughter
now
and forever more.
When she asked,
we tried to explain?
Why?
Why did we do this?
Again?
Lotus is an American citizen
since after a flight
from China to New York
we placed her foot on the ground
Of JFK Terminal.
Lotus has been our daughter
since we dipped her foot
in red ink
and placed it on the paper
Making a blood-red footprint
that says
She is ours.
How do I tell you
My daughter,
My child,
My very own,
That our country elected a tyrant.
Who hates you?
How do I say that
I worried that
that tyrant might write
new laws. And those laws
would call
you an immigrant
and take you from me.
How do I say
that I waited because
I wanted to honor
your China Mommy.
I am saddened because
the birth certificate that
will come from the capital city
of our state
will not have her name.
All I can say
that it was for a piece of paper.
And would you like cake?
And my child will hug me.
And ask if she can
lick the beater when
we make the icing.
I say no.
We will share.
Because we are family.
We filled out more paperwork.
We went to a court and a judge
smiled at our daughter
and pronounced her our daughter
now
and forever more.
When she asked,
we tried to explain?
Why?
Why did we do this?
Again?
Lotus is an American citizen
since after a flight
from China to New York
we placed her foot on the ground
Of JFK Terminal.
Lotus has been our daughter
since we dipped her foot
in red ink
and placed it on the paper
Making a blood-red footprint
that says
She is ours.
How do I tell you
My daughter,
My child,
My very own,
That our country elected a tyrant.
Who hates you?
How do I say that
I worried that
that tyrant might write
new laws. And those laws
would call
you an immigrant
and take you from me.
How do I say
that I waited because
I wanted to honor
your China Mommy.
I am saddened because
the birth certificate that
will come from the capital city
of our state
will not have her name.
All I can say
that it was for a piece of paper.
And would you like cake?
And my child will hug me.
And ask if she can
lick the beater when
we make the icing.
I say no.
We will share.
Because we are family.
Monday, March 27, 2017
Microblog Monday - And You
And You*
or she's done something she knows
she's not supposed to,
she will cry.
"I want my mommy!" She'll say.
She will say this clutching to me.
Her face
buried into my very ample stomach
and breasts.
"I want Mommy." She cries.
"I'm right here." I say, holding her close.
"I'm here, baby."
"I'm not leaving."
What she means sometimes is
she wants mommy,
the one who isn't mad at her,
and is fun.
And I generally get this through my brain,
and I rock her,
and she stops crying,
and she says sorry,
and we're okay.
Sometimes she cries for mommy
as I am holding her
and I realize there's another woman she's crying for.
a woman who she lived with for five days.
A woman whose heartbeat she heard,
while she was getting ready to be born.
A woman who chose to give birth to her,
and then made the
heart-wrenching
unimaginable
decision
to leave her to be found
and cuddled
and loved
by strangers.
Lotus cries for that mommy.
She misses her.
That woman who looks at the world
from eyes that are like her own.
That woman who,
I imagine,
Aches for my crying little girl
in ways I cannot imagine.
And I don't want to .
When Lotus does this
We hug each other very hard
and send our love out
and hope China Mommy
can feel it
can understand
this is the best I can do
to pay the enormous debt that I owe
this woman with
my daughter's face.
And one time
After being scolded
Lotus said she wanted mommy.
I realized and asked.
"China Mommy?"
She nodded.
Then
tearfully
She raised her head
tears soaking er face
tears soaking my breast
to look me in the eye.
"I want China Mommy." she said
lifting her hand to my chin
"And You."
Her head returned
just above my heart
as more tears fell.
I held her,
and rocked her,
and internally praised her intelligence.
Because my four-and-a-half-year-old daughter
summed up adoption angst
in two words.
* The style of this post is a tribute to the book Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson. I am in the middle of this amazing book told in verse so I tried to do a blog post in verse. Was I successful? Let me know.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Microblog Monday - The sins of the mother
When I think of being Jewish, of the High Holidays, I always think about the Al-Chet. I allude to it, I think about it.
For the sins which we have committed.
Most of the time I go to synagogue alone. D isn't Jewish and Lotus isn't old enough to get much out of it. It is easier to let her stay home with D.
So I'm standing on Yom Kippur thinking about my own sins.
I think about Lotus. She is wonderful. She fills my arms with hugs and lets me show her the world. She listens when I talk, and I try to explain the world to it as I see it.
I wish for the current year that I can be the mother that my little girl deserves.
There are sometimes I don't want to watch Elena of Avelor for the ntheenth time. I want to watch something adult.
There are times I don't want to cuddle, or play. I want to sleep.
There are times that as much as I love her little voice I just want quiet.
There are times I think I am totally fucking up this motherhood deal and maybe that's why I don't have a biological child.
There are times I think, What right do I have to be annoyed or discontented when I prayed and wished and waited every single day for nearly a dozen years for this? How dare I not be smiling and happy every single day.
I want so badly to talk to my mother to see if she felt this too. While I could, and I'd be fairly sure she'd hear me, I won't get an answer. i miss her when I think I'm fucking up this motherhood thing.
For all these sins, God of atonement, forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.
For the sins which we have committed.
Most of the time I go to synagogue alone. D isn't Jewish and Lotus isn't old enough to get much out of it. It is easier to let her stay home with D.
So I'm standing on Yom Kippur thinking about my own sins.
I think about Lotus. She is wonderful. She fills my arms with hugs and lets me show her the world. She listens when I talk, and I try to explain the world to it as I see it.
I wish for the current year that I can be the mother that my little girl deserves.
There are sometimes I don't want to watch Elena of Avelor for the ntheenth time. I want to watch something adult.
There are times I don't want to cuddle, or play. I want to sleep.
There are times that as much as I love her little voice I just want quiet.
There are times I think I am totally fucking up this motherhood deal and maybe that's why I don't have a biological child.
There are times I think, What right do I have to be annoyed or discontented when I prayed and wished and waited every single day for nearly a dozen years for this? How dare I not be smiling and happy every single day.
I want so badly to talk to my mother to see if she felt this too. While I could, and I'd be fairly sure she'd hear me, I won't get an answer. i miss her when I think I'm fucking up this motherhood thing.
For all these sins, God of atonement, forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.
Monday, September 19, 2016
Microblog Monday - Mourning needs more than a hug
Lotus has been talking about China Mommy lately.
We all talk about her. She's the reason we have Lotus. She's the reason Lotus has these amazing brown eyes while D and I have blue. We talk about her like we talk about my Aunt Vivian. She is a treasured relative who we don't see much.
Yesterday Lotus said "I miss China Mommy." I gave her a hug and said that it was okay and natural and right to miss her. I suggested that we hug each other real tight and we'll send all that love over an ocean an right to China Mommy's heart. We hugged and hugged and I don't mind saying that I felt pretty good about this. I felt like I did something right.
Then last night she had a meltdown. She started screaming, crying, and I just held her and rocked her. She didn't repeat that she missed China Mommy--she didn't have to. I've been mourning my mother for two years, I know what mourning looks like. She cried and I rocked her and held her. She let me--even though I was concerned that she would push me away. We rocked and straightened out what she didn't want to do--even though a blind man could see that wasn't what the tantrum was about.
Today on the way to school she said "I miss China Mommy." and I (behind the wheel of the car) struggled for wisdom. I said maybe when we were older we could go to China and try to find China Mommy. Then she got upset and practically broke down until I told her we could return to New Jersey.
When I dropped her off at school I sang our song "Mommy comes back." and she hugged me and kissed me. Had she broke down again I might have said fine, let's take the day off, but she was okay.
It just left me thinking that she's mourning China Mommy and will most of her life. It takes more than a hug to get through it.
We all talk about her. She's the reason we have Lotus. She's the reason Lotus has these amazing brown eyes while D and I have blue. We talk about her like we talk about my Aunt Vivian. She is a treasured relative who we don't see much.
Yesterday Lotus said "I miss China Mommy." I gave her a hug and said that it was okay and natural and right to miss her. I suggested that we hug each other real tight and we'll send all that love over an ocean an right to China Mommy's heart. We hugged and hugged and I don't mind saying that I felt pretty good about this. I felt like I did something right.
Then last night she had a meltdown. She started screaming, crying, and I just held her and rocked her. She didn't repeat that she missed China Mommy--she didn't have to. I've been mourning my mother for two years, I know what mourning looks like. She cried and I rocked her and held her. She let me--even though I was concerned that she would push me away. We rocked and straightened out what she didn't want to do--even though a blind man could see that wasn't what the tantrum was about.
Today on the way to school she said "I miss China Mommy." and I (behind the wheel of the car) struggled for wisdom. I said maybe when we were older we could go to China and try to find China Mommy. Then she got upset and practically broke down until I told her we could return to New Jersey.
When I dropped her off at school I sang our song "Mommy comes back." and she hugged me and kissed me. Had she broke down again I might have said fine, let's take the day off, but she was okay.
It just left me thinking that she's mourning China Mommy and will most of her life. It takes more than a hug to get through it.
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
The Cave 2005
Heeding Mel's oft repeated bit to make backups I went back to my first IF blog. I reread the posts about possible pregnancies, fertility treatments, a hailstorm of friend pregnancies and some bad stuff that my family said about adoption.
Then I read this post.
When I think of the post I wrote yesterday, I know it might seem like I have never been there. Now I'm happy but I never suffered.
I suffered.
Here is the proof that I know whereof I speak. Here is the proof that I walked the path some of you are now on and I get it. I grok it. I know.
2005
Today I think the cave metaphor is more accurate. Sometimes everything just hurts. It generally happens around the time I get my period, but still I have these times where I just need to go into my cave.
It's dark in the cave. But that's okay. I don't deserve sunshine. Sunshine is for people who's bodies work the way they are supposed to. Sunshine is for babies, not women who can't have them.
It is wet in the cave. Tears, blood make for a wet atmosphere. Maybe it's the blood of a miscarriage or chemical pregnancy. The blood of countless periods that came even though I was sure this time that I actually was pregnant. The tears that happened during doctors visits. During tests while nurses berate me for crying. Telling me that this doesn't hurt when it felt like I was being raped with chemicals. Tests that are embarrasing, humiliating. I have to make a joke just to get through the day. Going to a second RE to be told that everything the first RE did was wrong and I spent money, time, and pain doing a treatment that was never going to work anyway. Tears when everything around you is breaking into little pieces. Friendships, marriage, sex.
Sometimes I have company in the cave. Sometimes my husband is there with me, but more often I am alone. Reaching out across a sea of computers to touch others who have their own caves. Others who know that the cave is lonely but you can't be alone. You ache to be with others but only others who know what it is. They know what you want and how you are hurting.
It has to be a cave because only stone can absorb the anger. And I get so angry. I try not to. I try to be okay, but when I need to go into the cave I bang my hands on the rock until they bleed. I am furious. I am furious at every woman who ever harmed her child. I am furious at everyone who ever gave me assvice.
"Just Relax."
"Have you ever thought about lifting your legs in the air after sex?"
"Why don't you just adopt?"
"You aren't meant to have children until you recognize Jesus Christ as your personal savior."
"You won't have children until your husband converts to Judaism."
"A low-carb diet helped a friend."
"Become a vegetarian."
"You're just too fat to have children."
"Well of COURSE she doesn't have kids, her husband would have to sleep with her to do that and can you imagine anyone being that hard up?" (Overheard at one of my jobs from hell)
The cave is filled with every doubt I have ever had about myself. If I gave more to charity, If I was a better person, If I was a better wife, if I SOMETHING it would happen.
There are days I can stand the sunlight. Days I can leave the cave behind me. I send away to adoption agencies. I look at countries, at children. I realize that I can be a mother and my parenting will be just as valid. Days I see a child in my arms and she has almond eyes, not the blue of me or my husband. But she laughs in my arms and calls me mama. She takes my hand and says 'Mama come see.' And I know, I do know, that she will keep me too busy to go back into the cave.
But she's a dream right now. And my other dreams have turned to shit. I can't believe with the innocence that I had that I will have that child. I can't believe that everything will work out all right, because I believed that once, and I wound up here, in this cave.
I sometimes think that the worst part of the cave is that I am the only one who is able to crawl out of it. No one can come and lift me out of the depression. I have to decide that I want to leave the cave. I have to pull myself to my feet and walk my bruised and battered soul out into the sunlight. But the cave is safe, and I am safe from the slings and barbs of my own psyche and society that decides that a child's face can sell anything. A society that values the children far more than they do the parents is painful to me. Hiding in the cave is good. But I don't want to be here. And I inch myself to the mouth of the cave and it is dark and the stars shine down on me. I once believed my child was up there, waiting for the right moment to have me hold him or her. But now they are stars, and the night air smells sweet. And I can stay at the mouth of the cave for a bit, and wait for the sun to rise.
Monday, May 23, 2016
The View from the Continent - Microblog Monday
A long time ago--and by that I mean about a decade or so--when the blogosphere was young, someone coined the term Infertility Island. Don't know who did, but the term was apt. Infertility Island is where you stopped until you had your positive pregnancy test, adoption referral, or decided that it was enough.
I have Lotus. She got me off the island.
This past week, I met up with a friend who I met on the Island. We clicked in that way people do when you are in the same situation. We actually clicked more. I get her. She gets me.
Our log-in dates were close to each other and we thought that we would be if not traveling together, then we would have our children close together. For reasons that are not mine to tell, she had to drop out of the China Adoption program. I cried when I heard that. I cried for our dreams coming to a halt.
Then I got Lotus and all of my priorities shifted. I left Infertility Island for the parenting continent. Instead of shots and peeing on sticks I was talking my child to playgrounds. Instead of crying myself to sleep because I didn't have a child, I would listen to her sleep and fight becoming a helicopter parent.
I can't say I've never looked back to the Island. I have too many friends there who took the path that led off of it without children. I ache for them. My sister left Infertility Island for life without parenting. Other friends chose different paths.
Sometimes I see people look at Lotus and I see the hunger. I get it. I grok it. I fear it. I worry that something will happen to Lotus. I wish I could wave a magic wand and let my friends and sister be the wonderful parents they were meant to be. I can't though so I brush my sadness for them off and hold my daughter's hand. I'm fine when she reaches her other hand to them because then my Lotus has someone else to love her.
Sometimes I see people look at Lotus and I see the hunger. I get it. I grok it. I fear it. I worry that something will happen to Lotus. I wish I could wave a magic wand and let my friends and sister be the wonderful parents they were meant to be. I can't though so I brush my sadness for them off and hold my daughter's hand. I'm fine when she reaches her other hand to them because then my Lotus has someone else to love her.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Even Better
If you're going through IF treatments, or are in a rough space with regard to your reproductive health and choices--this is not the post for you.
Move along.
No, I'm serious.
See, this post is about the good stuff. The stuff that you sob over when the last thing didn't work.
I have my child. She's 3 and a half. If you leave out that half you are in trouble.
She expresses herself. She is fun. She is wonderful.
There are some things that are even better than I imagined it when I wanted a child. Some experiences that I thought would be good, but are even better than that. Here they are.
1) The smell of freshly bathed child.
I love hugging her and toweling her off after her bath. D does the lifting but I get the story cuddles. She smells like baby shampoo, soap, and her own clean Lotus smell. It's wonderful.
2) Cooking and Baking together.
We have a tower so she can help me cook and bake. She can crack eggs better than I can. She can sift and keep the flour mostly in the bowl. We like to cook and bake together and it is better than I even imagined it.
3) Rocking a sleeping child
Her night time routine still includes a bottle and me rocking her to sleep while singing. Yes, I know she's three, but I'm not willing to stop it until she wants to. If it makes her happy, I'm fine with it. Her weight as she sleeps is getting heavier, and I love it.
4) Her compassion
I prayed for a compassionate child. I got one. Oh did I get one. I recently had oral surgery and I was not "normal" mommy afterwards. My beautiful girl climbed up next to me and stroked my hair. "It's okay mommy, I'll take care of you."
5) The "You're Here" Hug
Mostly this one comes when I pick her up from pre-school. She sees me and I hear "Mama!" and she runs to give me a hug. OH do I love this hug.
Parenting is hard, thankless, work. But these things, make it all worthwhile.
Move along.
No, I'm serious.
See, this post is about the good stuff. The stuff that you sob over when the last thing didn't work.
I have my child. She's 3 and a half. If you leave out that half you are in trouble.
She expresses herself. She is fun. She is wonderful.
There are some things that are even better than I imagined it when I wanted a child. Some experiences that I thought would be good, but are even better than that. Here they are.
1) The smell of freshly bathed child.
I love hugging her and toweling her off after her bath. D does the lifting but I get the story cuddles. She smells like baby shampoo, soap, and her own clean Lotus smell. It's wonderful.
2) Cooking and Baking together.
We have a tower so she can help me cook and bake. She can crack eggs better than I can. She can sift and keep the flour mostly in the bowl. We like to cook and bake together and it is better than I even imagined it.
3) Rocking a sleeping child
Her night time routine still includes a bottle and me rocking her to sleep while singing. Yes, I know she's three, but I'm not willing to stop it until she wants to. If it makes her happy, I'm fine with it. Her weight as she sleeps is getting heavier, and I love it.
4) Her compassion
I prayed for a compassionate child. I got one. Oh did I get one. I recently had oral surgery and I was not "normal" mommy afterwards. My beautiful girl climbed up next to me and stroked my hair. "It's okay mommy, I'll take care of you."
5) The "You're Here" Hug
Mostly this one comes when I pick her up from pre-school. She sees me and I hear "Mama!" and she runs to give me a hug. OH do I love this hug.
Parenting is hard, thankless, work. But these things, make it all worthwhile.
Monday, February 1, 2016
Microblog Mondays- Dear Aya
A co-worker is about to make the monumental trip to China to adopt a long awaited, longed-for child. Coincidentally, she is going to the SWI where Lotus was. I have been writing and rewriting this letter for her to take.
Dear dear Aya.
That is the name that my daughter, (our child) called when she was scared in the first weeks she was with us. I hope it is all right that I call you that.
The little light you nurtured for a year is now looking squarely at her fourth birthday. She is bright, inquisitive, and affectionate. She is a very wordy child---which means is that she tries to use her words and tries to process by speech what she is thinking and feeling.
A few days ago we were looking at her storybook (a book we put together with the pictures you gave us) and she saw a picture of you. She stared at it for a while. and I asked her what she remembered.
"She smelled good." Our daughter said. "She was warm."
I knew she was loved.
I knew you loved her.
She is loved now--oh so very much. She lights our life with her smile. She makes us laugh with her belly laughs and her hugs are the best endings to long days.
I realize that I have not thanked you enough for giving her a safe place. I know you were firm, but you were affectionate. You paid attention to her--possibly at the expense of other children. I wonder if you were the one who nursed her from your body, and if you were I thank you for that.
I don't know your name--I only know you as her Aya--but I thank Gd for you every night. I hope you have joy, comfort, and peace. I'm sending pictures of our girl to you with this letter. Please know that we will do everything for her, and someday we will bring her back to China to visit so you can see her.
Best,
Journeywoman
Dear dear Aya.
That is the name that my daughter, (our child) called when she was scared in the first weeks she was with us. I hope it is all right that I call you that.
The little light you nurtured for a year is now looking squarely at her fourth birthday. She is bright, inquisitive, and affectionate. She is a very wordy child---which means is that she tries to use her words and tries to process by speech what she is thinking and feeling.
A few days ago we were looking at her storybook (a book we put together with the pictures you gave us) and she saw a picture of you. She stared at it for a while. and I asked her what she remembered.
"She smelled good." Our daughter said. "She was warm."
I knew she was loved.
I knew you loved her.
She is loved now--oh so very much. She lights our life with her smile. She makes us laugh with her belly laughs and her hugs are the best endings to long days.
I realize that I have not thanked you enough for giving her a safe place. I know you were firm, but you were affectionate. You paid attention to her--possibly at the expense of other children. I wonder if you were the one who nursed her from your body, and if you were I thank you for that.
I don't know your name--I only know you as her Aya--but I thank Gd for you every night. I hope you have joy, comfort, and peace. I'm sending pictures of our girl to you with this letter. Please know that we will do everything for her, and someday we will bring her back to China to visit so you can see her.
Best,
Journeywoman
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Walking in the shoes
Mel had a great post about how when you are dealing with Infertility you are more empathetic to someone else who is going through it.
And I kind of agree.
Kind of.
Because there comes a point where it isn't true. When one leaves IF island on a boat (pregnancy) or a plane (adoption). Someone is now calling you Mommy. You are now dealing with all the stuff with parenting and they aren't. It can't help but cause something to happen, a distance if you will. If you're still on that island, it hurts to see someone off of it. If you're leaving that island...sometimes you don't want to look back.
I can speak of this from both sides now.
In the middle of my IF, one of my friends was going through it too. Together we mourned with every appearance of AF. Then, on my birthday, she called me. I had been having a nice birthday too. I had had a massage and was watching a marathon of crappy reality tv. We seldom talk on the phone--doing most of our friendship online. When she called I thought something was wrong. She was over the moon as she was finally pregnant. She was doing her happy dance--and she should. I just thought she might have waited a day to tell me. I hung up the phone and cried. It was one of the worst birthdays because I couldn't stop crying. She had other friends call me and they all wanted to share the news with me and wasn't I happy for her?
She had no empathy for me whatsoever. A few days later she emailed and said she hoped she hadn't ruined my birthday. I told her she did and she apologized. We're still friends, but I don't trust her as I did. I never will trust her to that extent again.
Fast forward a few years.
We had come back from China with our beautiful Lotus. My older sister is in agony. She and her husband had decided not to adopt from China even though they had come to realize that adoption was the only way they would grow their family.While we waited, and waited, and waited this might have felt like it was the right call. Then, after all this time I have this little adorable child and she's calling me mom. We went to a family thing and I was packing up to leave. I made a joke about the traffic going home, something like "I'm relying on a merciful Gd. We'll see how that works." I looked up and wanted to swallow my tongue. I gave my sister a hug and she turned away. I followed up, apologized again and she said that she knew it would be hard, but not this hard.
I try so hard to make my sister feel welcome. It is helping. Lotus adores her and in spite of everything I would imagine that Lotus considers my sister one of her favorite people--and her second favorite aunt. Lotus' godmother being in that first place berth. I still have to walk that line though. It was easier to be empathetic when I was still there--but that is no excuse for me not to be once I'm not.
And then there is the dead parents club..... More on that later.
And I kind of agree.
Kind of.
Because there comes a point where it isn't true. When one leaves IF island on a boat (pregnancy) or a plane (adoption). Someone is now calling you Mommy. You are now dealing with all the stuff with parenting and they aren't. It can't help but cause something to happen, a distance if you will. If you're still on that island, it hurts to see someone off of it. If you're leaving that island...sometimes you don't want to look back.
I can speak of this from both sides now.
In the middle of my IF, one of my friends was going through it too. Together we mourned with every appearance of AF. Then, on my birthday, she called me. I had been having a nice birthday too. I had had a massage and was watching a marathon of crappy reality tv. We seldom talk on the phone--doing most of our friendship online. When she called I thought something was wrong. She was over the moon as she was finally pregnant. She was doing her happy dance--and she should. I just thought she might have waited a day to tell me. I hung up the phone and cried. It was one of the worst birthdays because I couldn't stop crying. She had other friends call me and they all wanted to share the news with me and wasn't I happy for her?
She had no empathy for me whatsoever. A few days later she emailed and said she hoped she hadn't ruined my birthday. I told her she did and she apologized. We're still friends, but I don't trust her as I did. I never will trust her to that extent again.
Fast forward a few years.
We had come back from China with our beautiful Lotus. My older sister is in agony. She and her husband had decided not to adopt from China even though they had come to realize that adoption was the only way they would grow their family.While we waited, and waited, and waited this might have felt like it was the right call. Then, after all this time I have this little adorable child and she's calling me mom. We went to a family thing and I was packing up to leave. I made a joke about the traffic going home, something like "I'm relying on a merciful Gd. We'll see how that works." I looked up and wanted to swallow my tongue. I gave my sister a hug and she turned away. I followed up, apologized again and she said that she knew it would be hard, but not this hard.
I try so hard to make my sister feel welcome. It is helping. Lotus adores her and in spite of everything I would imagine that Lotus considers my sister one of her favorite people--and her second favorite aunt. Lotus' godmother being in that first place berth. I still have to walk that line though. It was easier to be empathetic when I was still there--but that is no excuse for me not to be once I'm not.
And then there is the dead parents club..... More on that later.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
I wasn't going to blog about this
I wasn't going to blog about this.
I really wasn't.
Or at least I wasn't until I figured out how I felt about it.
But it has been two days and I still don't know how to feel. I feel anger, fury, pity, and so many other emotions that I really can't get a handle on them.
It started Wednesday night as we were putting Lotus to bed. She was tired after an insufficient nap at school. D had ben trying to get her nightgown on and she wanted to do it. We know this because the cry "I want to do it!" echoed through the house. D dumped her on our bed with her nightgown half on and half off. He was having some bathroom issues and had to get to that room. I gently tried to righten the nightgown so she could better get it herself. I got a shriek in response. Great, I thought. Our nearly weekly going-to-bed tantrum. Finally she punched through the nightgown and I clapped. She smiled a bit and started to calm down.
She then started to look so puzzled and then started to cry again, harder.
"What is it, baby?" I asked.
"He hit me." She said.
"Who?"
"Daddy." I knew this wasn't the case. I just knew because the three times D accidentally hit Lotus he was practically crying harder than she was.
"Did he say sorry?" I asked.
She shook her head and started to cry harder.
"Daddy hit you?" I asked. "Are you sure? When?" I asked.
She shook her head no when I asked if Daddy hit her. She started to cry even harder. Somewhere between sadness and sobs.
"Honey, sweetie, what is it?" I said taking her in my arms and rocking her.
"Before." she said. The way she said it it had a capital B. She was sobbing now and I was rocking her back and forth. I started to get a glimmer of an idea.
"Before Daddy?" I asked. She stopped crying. The absence of sound was jarring. D walked into our bedroom sat on the bed and put his hand on Lotus' back. We were staring in each other's eyes.
"Lotus-full-name, are you saying that before you met mommy and daddy someone hit you?"
"Yes." She said and started to sob again."A lot."' She was howling now and I was rocking her and D had his hand on her back. She reached out and I though she was going to throw his hand off, but she wanted to hold his hand. I met D's eyes and I started to cry. He shook his head and gestured to her.
Right. She didn't need my tears right now.
I sang the Tarzan song I sang when we first met. It helped calm her as it usually does. We got her quieted down and she went to sleep. I stayed up.
Someone hit her. Before. Before she met mommy and daddy. Someone hit her a lot.
People scoff at the idea that she remembers anything about that. I know she does. I know she has memories from before us. Scent memories, sounds. There is a chef at our favorite hibachi restaurant that she freaks out when she sees him or hears him. So much so, we don't go there anymore. Does he remind her of the person who hit her?
Even now, typing this, a rage goes through me. I want to leap over continents and oceans to physically assault the person who hurt my child so much that over two years later she is still frightened. I'm not a violent person but I feel violent. I feel furious.
She feels at home with us. She feels right with us. She loves us enough to trust us with these memories. I feel honored.
She trusts me that I will not hit her. She trusts D that he will not hit her. Before she slept she gave a special hug to her daddy and kissed him. I feel humbled by this.
More than anything I am in awe of her. She trusts us. She shows it in many ways. I didn't realize how brave it was for her to let herself trust and love us. So much bravery in such a little package.
Friday, August 7, 2015
Playing cute
We're visiting my in-laws. Lotus gets weird when she stays away from home. She handles it.
We had a looooooooooong drive to my in-laws. When we got here Lotus was manic. She ran around and we expected this.
We didn't expect her to play cute.
When we met Lotus, at that hotel in China, she was adorable. She giggled, she smiled. We had expected a child totally shut down and we were thrilled that she seemed so happy. It took us three days to realize that she wasn't happy with us-she had gone into survival mode. She had learned in her 54 weeks at the orphanage that the best way to survive is play cute with new people. It probably got her more food, more attention. When I am honest with myself I realize that this survival instinct was probably good.
Two days after we met her we visited the SWI (orphanage) so she could say goodbye. Her second favorite nanny pressed her into my arms and introduced me formally to Lotus and called me Mama. The wonderful woman called D Baba (Daddy) Then she hugged and kissed Lotus again and turned away quickly so Lotus wouldn't see that she was crying.
Notice I say her second-favorite nanny. Her favorite one, the one that was in many pictures with her and you could see the love there, she couldn't come. They knew we would be coming and she just could not say goodbye again. When I pray I always think of her and ask Gd to somehow let her know we are thinking of her and thanking her every single day.
When our little family left the SWI Lotus looked at me and said Mama. She looked at D and said Baba. We went back to the hotel and my heart was so filled. We walked into our room and something clicked with Lotus and she started to cry. She started to scream and she didn't stop for forty-five minutes. The only reason she did stop, I believe, is that her body just gave out and she fell asleep. We all fell asleep.
When we woke up we met Lotus. The real one. She cried some more and I held her and sang to her. D held her and danced with her. We played marathon games of peekaboo. During one of those, she smiled. A real smile. A smile so different from the first one we saw that I realized the first one was her smile for the cameras. This was Lotus. This was her smile.
I adore that smile.
I noticed she played cute when she met new people. Careful of attachment we wouldn't let anyone else but us feed her or change her, but she soon found her way with the family.
It's been over two years since we brought her home. I hadn't seen her playing cute in a while but today it brought it all back to me. Tonight when we did our going-to-bed songs I added a few old ones. After I sang her goodnight song she put her hand on my chin and smiled--her real smile. I hugged her and rocked her to sleep.
I don't now how secure she'll feel in the morning. I explained the playing cute with my in-laws and they tried to understand. I hope I didn't hurt their feelings because her poor grandpa said "but she likes us." She does like them, she loves them (more him) very much and I said this. But she was feeling uncertain and I want to make sure she feels certain and comfortable. I think my Mother-in-law got it a little more, but who knows.
Adoption is not unicorn rainbow farts. There is hard stuff. Emotional stuff.
If we can get a real smile by the end of the day, we're pretty damn lucky.
We had a looooooooooong drive to my in-laws. When we got here Lotus was manic. She ran around and we expected this.
We didn't expect her to play cute.
When we met Lotus, at that hotel in China, she was adorable. She giggled, she smiled. We had expected a child totally shut down and we were thrilled that she seemed so happy. It took us three days to realize that she wasn't happy with us-she had gone into survival mode. She had learned in her 54 weeks at the orphanage that the best way to survive is play cute with new people. It probably got her more food, more attention. When I am honest with myself I realize that this survival instinct was probably good.
Two days after we met her we visited the SWI (orphanage) so she could say goodbye. Her second favorite nanny pressed her into my arms and introduced me formally to Lotus and called me Mama. The wonderful woman called D Baba (Daddy) Then she hugged and kissed Lotus again and turned away quickly so Lotus wouldn't see that she was crying.
Notice I say her second-favorite nanny. Her favorite one, the one that was in many pictures with her and you could see the love there, she couldn't come. They knew we would be coming and she just could not say goodbye again. When I pray I always think of her and ask Gd to somehow let her know we are thinking of her and thanking her every single day.
When our little family left the SWI Lotus looked at me and said Mama. She looked at D and said Baba. We went back to the hotel and my heart was so filled. We walked into our room and something clicked with Lotus and she started to cry. She started to scream and she didn't stop for forty-five minutes. The only reason she did stop, I believe, is that her body just gave out and she fell asleep. We all fell asleep.
When we woke up we met Lotus. The real one. She cried some more and I held her and sang to her. D held her and danced with her. We played marathon games of peekaboo. During one of those, she smiled. A real smile. A smile so different from the first one we saw that I realized the first one was her smile for the cameras. This was Lotus. This was her smile.
I adore that smile.
I noticed she played cute when she met new people. Careful of attachment we wouldn't let anyone else but us feed her or change her, but she soon found her way with the family.
It's been over two years since we brought her home. I hadn't seen her playing cute in a while but today it brought it all back to me. Tonight when we did our going-to-bed songs I added a few old ones. After I sang her goodnight song she put her hand on my chin and smiled--her real smile. I hugged her and rocked her to sleep.
I don't now how secure she'll feel in the morning. I explained the playing cute with my in-laws and they tried to understand. I hope I didn't hurt their feelings because her poor grandpa said "but she likes us." She does like them, she loves them (more him) very much and I said this. But she was feeling uncertain and I want to make sure she feels certain and comfortable. I think my Mother-in-law got it a little more, but who knows.
Adoption is not unicorn rainbow farts. There is hard stuff. Emotional stuff.
If we can get a real smile by the end of the day, we're pretty damn lucky.
Friday, June 26, 2015
Good night, Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.
So I have a new job.
I'm settling in.
It's a contract position, which is what we used to call a temp position. What happens though is that after six months if I want a job in the company I can start looking.
I want a job in the company. I want a job in my department as they are filled with really nice people. Or at least that is how it seems so far. But that's not what this is about.
Today I got a call from my liaison at the temp agency. I swear when I realized it was her, I thought that I was going to be let go. I had a minor freak out.
It was a "just to see how things are going" call.
All is fine.
I freaked out for nothing.
It occurred to me that as she gets older, this is what my daughter will be feeling on a regular basis. She already gives us these amazing hugs saying "You Came Back!" I hate like hell that she worries about this.
I mentioned this to my husband, who is also adopted. He says that yes, no matter what, there's this little wonder if you really get to stay with these parents.
I thought of the Princess Bride-- and the above quote.
I don't know what to do about this. I don't know how to make it better and I want to make it better. All I can do is try to be there for her and give her lots of hugs and make her laugh a lot.
And let her know that I love her. And let her know when she wants me to be there--I only have one answer. "As you wish."
I'm settling in.
It's a contract position, which is what we used to call a temp position. What happens though is that after six months if I want a job in the company I can start looking.
I want a job in the company. I want a job in my department as they are filled with really nice people. Or at least that is how it seems so far. But that's not what this is about.
Today I got a call from my liaison at the temp agency. I swear when I realized it was her, I thought that I was going to be let go. I had a minor freak out.
It was a "just to see how things are going" call.
All is fine.
I freaked out for nothing.
It occurred to me that as she gets older, this is what my daughter will be feeling on a regular basis. She already gives us these amazing hugs saying "You Came Back!" I hate like hell that she worries about this.
I mentioned this to my husband, who is also adopted. He says that yes, no matter what, there's this little wonder if you really get to stay with these parents.
I thought of the Princess Bride-- and the above quote.
I don't know what to do about this. I don't know how to make it better and I want to make it better. All I can do is try to be there for her and give her lots of hugs and make her laugh a lot.
And let her know that I love her. And let her know when she wants me to be there--I only have one answer. "As you wish."
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