The Weight of Words

Isn’t amazing the weight that some words carry? I remember participating in a leadership training workshop years ago where the presenter spoke about how words aren’t just words. The carry thoughts, judgments, ideas, prejudices, etc. far deeper than the words themselves. For example, an older single man is referred to as a bachelor whereas an older single woman is referred to as a spinster or an old maid. That’s an obvious example of the archaic ideas and judgments that lie underneath those words. Or “Oh, you’re just a housewife or stay-at-home mom.” The word “just” is a seemingly harmless word, but it can be hurtful and offensive if used in that context because of the idea that it represents. There’s a million examples of such unfortunate uses or misuses of words and phrases. I constantly find myself having to tweak some of my language to represent a healthier, more inclusive, or less judgmental state of mind.

On Tuesday, the State came to do our final home study before the finalization of Gianna’s adoption on the 14th. It was painless and just a formality. Visiting with the Case Worker (also an adoptive parent) I was reminded about how much negative language was present in the world of adoption. Most of it is just “old” phrasing that just hasn’t been updated. But as an adoptive mother, I do see the difference it can make. I’m still learning and training myself to use better, more accurate language, but here are a few things I have learned. I wanted to share a few phrasings that I hear fairly often….and the weight of the words they carry.

“Do you know or know anything about her real mother?”
Well, I am her “real” mother. What most people are referring to is her birthmother, biological mother or natural mother. When I mention that, people often say, “Oh, you know what I mean.” And I do. But eventually my child is going to wonder why people don’t think I’m her real mother. We will always acknowledge G’s birthmother role in our lives whether or not we ever meet her. I’m happy to share the title of mother with the woman who gave Gianna life.

“Why did her birthmother give her up.”
Instead of “giving her up,” we describe it as being “placed for adoption” or “she chose an adoption plan for her child.” Some babies are abandoned. It’s a sad reality. But my child was not abandoned (as is the case for many children in adoptive families). Her mother loved her so much that she wanted a life for her that she was unable to provide. I want G to always know that. I’m sure she’ll question all of the why’s and wherefores in years to come – but I don’t ever want her to question whether or not she was loved. As with many/most birthmothers/birth families, it was a very difficult decision. I guess the best way to think of it is that the CHILD isn’t given up or given away – but the right to parent is.

Along those same lines.

"Why didn’t she want to “keep” the baby?"

Instead of “keep” the more appropriate term would be “choose to parent.”

“Did her birth mother do drugs?”
We have a closed adoption due to the request of the birthmother. We know only a little bit about the birth mother/family. Whatever we know about the birthmother is confidential. We’ll share what we know with Gianna when she’s old enough and interested. I am SO bad about feeling obligated to answer questions that people ask me. I’m trying to give myself permission to not answer certain questions. Adoptive Families Magazine suggests that we do a disservice to our children by answering many of these questions in public and in front of the kids. It’s HER history and HER story and we really don’t have the right to share it all with complete strangers (or friends/family for that matter.) That will be her prerogative as she gets older. I just have to get over myself when I’m feeling rude in telling that to people who ask.

“Was she illegitimate?”
Well, actually she’s very legitimate. If you mean, was she born to parents who were not married to each other? Yes. Illegitimate is a terrible label for any child – adopted or not.

“I don’t know if I could ever love a child that wasn’t my own.”
Well, she is actually is my own, so it’s not an issue from that standpoint. (And if you're a believer, then NONE of our children are really our own.) But I know that what they’re really saying is “How could I love a child that wasn’t born to me or that doesn’t have my DNA?” I guess it’s sort of like the common concern when people are expecting their 2nd child…. “How can I ever love another child as much as I love my first?” You just do. It comes with the child and with the openness of your heart. You can’t always imagine it – but it happens….usually instantly and without explanation.

“Are you going to tell her that she’s adopted?”
She will always know. There’s not going to be a magic age when we sit down with her and have “the talk.” We continue to pray for her birthmother and birth family daily and she’ll be joining in those prayers as she grows up. We’re so proud of our adoption journey and we thank God that He chose to grow our family in that way.

Bear with me on this next statement: We won’t tell her that she IS adopted. We will tell her that she WAS adopted. I know. That may seem too subtle to make any difference. But it does. Let me explain:
Adoption is the way Gianna joined our family. It’s not who she is. We never think of her as our adopted daughter. She’s our daughter. We are an adoptive family. It’s part of our history – not a label. If we keep referring to Gianna as our “adopted child” we basically saying she’s different that if she was born to us naturally. She’s not. She’s just our child. For us, “adopted” is a verb, not a noun.

FORGETTING:
** I have the best memory of being at my dear friend’s house – peaking into the nursery watching her first baby sweetly sleep. She whispered to me, “I can believe how something that big came out of me.” Not an uncommon statement uttered by new moms….except the fact that she and her husband had adopted this sweet angel baby. I was so surprised by that comment and responded, “Well, Leesa, he didn’t come out of you.” We both just cracked up. She was really serious. I found that so funny that she really could forget she didn’t give birth to him – that is, UNTIL Gianna came along. Now, I totally get it. I constantly catch myself saying, “when she was born” or “when I had her.” I feel like I gave birth to her. Heaven knows I went through labor! J

And I LOVE the fact that other people are now forgetting we adopted her. One of my friends said, “It’s so amazing how blue her eyes are and how dark you and Iain’s are.” I was a little confused until I realized that she completely forgot that she was not our biological child. She was embarrassed. I was elated.

There’s a story of a mother who had five children, three children were born to them and two were adopted. When people would say to her, “Now which ones are the adopted ones?” She just looked down at all her five kids, “You know, I just can’t seem to remember.” It’s so easy to be offended by insensitive or ignorant remarks, but I hope that I will always be kind in my responses – even if I feel the need to educate.

“Where did you get her?”
I am SO tempted to being really sarcastic in answering a lot of these questions. I would just love to tell people we “got” her at Babies R US or that she was the prize with our Happy Meal at McDonalds. I know people are curious if we chose Domestic or International adoption and why. (Domestic adoptions take place within the US and International adoptions outside of the US.) People just want to know if we went through an agency or a private attorney or the State.

This next one has to be one of my favorite:
“How did you get a white one?”
A white one? Like she was a puppy in a litter! We didn't put in an order. We were open to adopting a baby - and that's what we got. The funny thing is, we really expected to adopt bi-racial or multi-racial children. And if given the chance to do so, we’d take it in a heartbeat. It just so happened that Gianna’s birthparents were Caucasian. I just tell people, “We didn’t choose her. God chose us.” I’m sure if I were parenting a bi-racial or black child (gasp) this post would be a lot longer. (Because of people’s preconceived ideas and their inability to censor their thoughts before they speak. :)

“How much did she cost?”
Ya gotta love people, huh? Contrary to popular belief, we didn’t buy our child. Just like any services rendered by agencies, attorneys, doctors, hospitals etc. there are fees associated with them. If you give birth to your baby, from the time you find out you’re expecting, there are expenses associated with each aspect of carrying and delivering your baby – even if there aren’t complications, fertility issues, illnesses, etc. Same is true for adoption. Most people just want to know how it all works, what the expenses are, etc. When I tell people that it can range from very little (adoptions through the State) or very expensive (in excess of $50,000.00) Most are somewhere in between. SOME people will say, “Well, what did YOU pay?” Just like in any other situation, it’s not good etiquette to ask about people’s personal finances. Every adoptive situation will vary, so knowing what we “paid” will not necessarily help you.

So, you get the idea. I’m sure in the near future I’ll think of several more words or phrases that carry such weight. If you've unknowingly used some of this negative terminology, don't worry. I have too. I’m still learning myself. I continue to catch myself using outdated language. I don’t beat myself up – I just correct myself and move on. Poet Maya Angelou says, “When you know better, you do better.” Here’s to doing better for our children.

I'll be getting off my soap box now. And since you good people have made it THIS far in the post without falling asleep, I'll throw you a little bone. It has nothing to do with the topic - it just makes me and my daughter laugh every day. I thought my husband would have a fit - but he laughed too. :)

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Baptism

A year ago today, Gianna was baptized. That week we had a visit from my in-laws (for the baptism and to meet Gianna), a nasty hurricane brewing in the Gulf and we began packing up our house and car preparing for an evacuation (without my husband.) We almost cancelled since many people couldn't come. But, we didn't. It was crazy, but it was special and beautiful. (The pictures are from our Scrapbook. You should be able to click on them to enlarge them.)

I think this last one is my favorite.

She is being annointed with holy oil by Monsignor Dubois sporting that sweet gummy grin and dimple.

Right after the baptism, we had cake at the rectory. My parents had initially planned a catered reception following the baptism (1st grandchild. 'Nuff said.) which had to be cancelled due to the impending threat of Hurricane Gustav. Iain had to go to work (he gets locked in the plant during hurricane evacuations) and Gianna & I evacuated along with WAY too much stuff and our dog, Max. As stressful as all that was, I kept telling myself, "At least Gianna's an infant - I'd hate to be doing this alone with a mobile toddler." Well, let's just say that this year we're praying HARD for a quiet storm season.

Happy Baptism Anniversary, Little One.

I look so forward to celebrating this special anniversary with you every year.

May you always walk in the footsteps of Christ and in the light of His Holy Spirit.

God bless you always.

Brave New World....

Oh....the exciting life of a 13 month old. She's really into discovering every inch of her newly expanding world. She's recently got super-excited about the discovery of her closet....and takes great pleasure into emptying it to the best of her abilities. The other day she took every one of her bows off the hanging bow-holder and left a trail from her room to the kitchen.

And then there's the whole climbing thing... And, yes, the fantastic great big bowl of water right on her level!

I'm all about letting Gianna explore her world even if it means a little extra work for me. One thing I have been a stickler about, however, is the doggy door. There are two doors: one that goes from the kitchen into the sunroom and one that goes from the sunroom to the outside. As persistent as she has been over the last four months, I have managed to keep my curious toddler at bay.
Until today.
I was doing something in the kitchen and she was playing nearby the fridge (by the doggy door). I heard it open and close, but then saw Max. (it's got little magnetic strips so you can hear all the movement.) No worries. Then I heard it open --- but it didn't close. I turned around to catch a glimpse of the cute little polka-dotted bottom of find my brave little monkey fearlessly forging through the doggy door to explore new territories. So, as any good and discipline-minded mother would do, I grabbed my camera and got these shots.

Then I sternly called her name and she flipped around to look at me. Boy, was she ever scared of me.

She was SO scared, in fact....

....that she darted toward the next door.

She almost had a taste of sweet freedom.

But Mommy got hold of her senses and put down the camera and had a little "chat" with her very brave daughter.

Sidenote: One little discipline trick I learned from a dear friend who studied child development, is if you have to raise your voice, or wag your finger, or give a bold, "no, no, no" ---- it's often better to direct it at the object (in this case the door) instead of the child. Basically, you're saying the child is not bad, but the action is bad (or in this case dangerous.)

Well, after I sternly scolded the doggy door and removed her from that area. She walked around a bit and then toddled straight back to the door. I thought for sure she was planning on another exploration attempt. But to my surprise, she bent down to the door. and shouted...."nyo, nyo, nyo!" And later, when my husband returned home, she greeted him, and then made a bee-line to the doggy door and gave the door a good fussin'.

At least she KNOWS it's wrong. Whether or not she tries it again...........that's a different story.

Trip to Australia

Different Trips to the Same Place Deciding to have a baby is like planning a trip to Australia. You've heard it's a wonderful place. You've read many guidebooks and feel certain you're ready to go. Everyone you know has traveled there by plane. They say it can be a turbulent flight with occasional rough landings, but you can look forward to being pampered on the trip. So you go to the airport and ask the ticket agent for a ticket to Australia. All around you, excited people are boarding planes for Australia.

It seems there is no seat for you: You'll have to wait for the next flight. Impatient, but anticipating a wonderful trip, you wait - and wait - and wait. Flights to Australia continue to come and go. People say silly things like, "Relax, you'll get on a flight soon." Other people actually get on a plane and then cancel their trip, to which you cry, "It's not fair!" After a long time the ticket agent tells you, "I'm sorry, we're not going to be able to get you on a plane to Australia. Perhaps you should think about going by boat."

"By boat?!" you say, "going by boat will take a very long time and it costs a great deal of money. I really had my heart set on going by plane." So you go home and think about not going to Australia at all. You wonder if Australia will be as beautiful if you approach it by sea rather than air. But you have long dreamed of this wonderful place, and finally you decide to travel by boat.

It's a long trip, many months over many rough seas. No one pampers you. You wonder if you will ever see Australia. Meanwhile, your friends have flown back and forth to Australia two or three more times, marveling about each trip.

Then one glorious day, the boat docks in Australia. It is more exquisite than you ever imagined, and the beauty is magnified by your long days at sea. You have made many friends during your voyage, and you find yourself comparing stories with others who also traveled by sea rather than air. People continue to fly to Australia as often as they like, but you are able to travel only once, perhaps twice. Some say things like, "Oh, be glad you didn't fly. My flight was horrible: traveling by sea is so easy."
You will always wonder what it would have been like to fly to Australia.
Still, you know God blessed you with a special appreciation of Australia, and the beauty of Australia is not in the way you got there, but in the place itself.

By: Diane Armitage (inspired by the story: “Welcome to Holland” - a great read for those who have been blessed with children who have any kind of challenges or special needs)

Dedicated to all my friends who are planning their "trips to Australia" - just unsure of the method of transportation.

One or Two?

I'm thinking there should have been two candles on that birthday cake last month.

This is not the first time I've uttered the words: "Please, Lord, let this be a phase." But, each time the little bump in the road happens, I seem to fear the worst....that 'this' may be the new normal.

What could this precious cherub possibility be doing to have her mother so frazzled? Well, don't let those pillowy dimpled cheeks, dreamy blue eyes and squishy little body fool you. This conniving little toddler has been yanking every one of our chains.

For starters, she has been hoarse for the last 7 days. Because she's been sick? No, because she's been screaming like a wild banshee for just about any reason she can come up with: not getting her way & waking up in the middle of the night just wanting a little company top the list. I'm not talking "fussing" here, I'm talking...top of her lungs, sounds like she's being tortured screams.

She had her first ear infection a couple of weeks ago, so I thought maybe it returned and she was in pain. (She'd been swatting at her ears for days.) To be sure, I took her into the Children's Clinic. Ears were as clear as crystal. Doctor said, "Maria, it could just be teething." (Dear heavens...how many more teeth do we have left?) After the doctor visit --- the jig was up for the monkey. I had her number, now. (I know, don't I sound like a real tough cookie?) Tough love, here we come....and go.........and come...........and go. Consistency in discipline is great in theory, but isn't everything?

In the past when little "phases" occurred of behavioral/sleeping/eating issues - it would usually return to some state of normalcy within 3 or 4 days. Holy Cannoli. This go-round had me shaking in my boots. She was going strong for over a week. I guess the grunt-fest was a cake walk. And what gets me is that she can turn it on and off like a light switch. She can be in full-on melt-down and catch a glimpse of her Elmo doll or book, and sweetly and excitedly exclaim, "Eh woh." Same goes for the words outside, bye bye, car, milk. etc. She can turn on a dime.

I think the worst behavior (in my husband's opinion, for sure) is her new attempts at swatting our faces or glasses. It's intentional, planned, and thoroughly enjoyed by our angelic little coconut. What gives? We don't swat back, pop her little hands, and we're realizing that even stern scoldings aren't working well. I think her "currency" is being removed from people. She's catching on, because when I went to fetch her from her empty play pen today after an "incident" she immediately signed "sorry" and blew a kiss. So she's either penitent, or she's just so "experienced" that she's figured out the drill.

Let's just say there's been a lot of "time outs" in Lewis Land as of late. Oh, not for her.....for ME! I'm trying to hold on to whatever marbles I have left. How brilliant is God to make them so doggone cute?

I'm trying not to get bent out of shape about anything, because she's exhibiting qualities that will serve her well as she grows up (not so much the hitting, but the confidence, determination and quick mind.) It's just a season, and seasons come and go. Even though most of these antics are frustrating, we do find ourselves turning our heads to laugh with some of the stuff she's pulling lately. If we are correcting a behavior she's turn her head and do the sign for "all done." Sometimes, after one of her swatting attempts, she'll kiss us before we have a chance to respond. Quick little thinker, eh? Truth be told, I'm happy to be blogging about parenting challenges instead of wondering if and when we would ever become parents.

And it's truly not all bad these days - not even remotely. Last week, when we were in the Children's Clinic, she had a good 15-20 people in stitches as she danced, signed, and mocked every ailment the poor sick kids exhibited - coughing, sneezing, sniffling and crying.

P.S. I wrote this last week but couldn't bring myself to post it. You know how it goes, you want to process it by writing about it, but it's difficult to find the humor in the midst of it - especially when you can't see the end in sight. It sure is tempting not to blog the challenging stuff regarding this whole parenting roller coaster. I guess the fear is that I might come across as negative or complaining. I decided that 20 or 30 years down the road, I want to remember all the rough stuff, too. But mostly, I want to offer a fair picture of our lives and parenting attempts. It's lovely to report all the cute and fun stuff, but for us, it's only part of the picture.

Ruh-Roh

"Pick battles big enough to matter, small enough to win." ~Jonathan Kozel

I'm telling you, at 13 months, this sweet precious textbook baby of recent past is fitting all the classic sign of a typical 2 year old (I refuse to use the term "terrible twos" at this point - although, after a few more weeks of this behavior and it ought to be rolling off my tongue with little effort.)