What words come to mind when you think of adoption?: A "talk" with an adoptive parent group

family baby anger gratitude birth mom language waiting Blind Side God orphans loss rescue joy hope adapt accommodate commitment children who need a home & love DFCS custody problems between biological & adoptive parents secrecy joy excitement nerve-wracking life-changing God-inspired love mommy saving a life unselfishness opportunity for life care love unique chosen Biblical love loss

The above words are not my own words.

During a "talk" that I recently gave to a group of adoptive and prospective adoptive parents, I handed out note cards and asked each parent, "What words come to mind when you think of adoption?"--a kind of a free association activity. [For instance, when I think of the sky, words like "blue," "clouds," "lightning," "sun," etc. come to mind.]

I found the recognition of "secrecy" and "custody problems between biological and adoptive parents" a surprising yet valid association to be acknowledged by adoptive parents.

Yet what also stood out to me was that the thought of loss surfaced only twice.

The overall themes demonstrated by the words shared indicated to me a view of adoption that lacked an awareness of the loss and trauma experienced by the adoptee. If loss was a thought, it was the last word written on the note card. Anger was mentioned only once.

I have to admit that it made me a little nervous as I read over the note cards and realized that this group had a more traditional view of adoption, while it also made me glad that they were there as I began to share my thoughts and experiences as an adult adoptee. As the discussion continued and I shared more of my thoughts honestly and asked more questions, I could see that the light was coming on for some of the parents present, and that some of them seemed to have more of an awareness than initially indicated by their responses on the note cards.

Yet I will say that the impression given to me by the words written on the note cards was that this particular group of parents had not educated themselves in depth about what it means to adopt and to be adopted. More specifically, their answers indicated that as they thought about adoption they thought primarily of how they felt as parents about adoption rather than how their adopted child might feel as a result of being adopted.

A natural tendency in one way, but one that, at the least, must be added to, and at the most, must be updated and revamped, because parents who adopt need to realize that although adopting certainly affects them in every way, it is not about them. But this is true for any parent. Being a parent is not about the parent. It's about the child. A parent can't parent if he or she is thinking only about how the child's behavior is going to affect the parent. Furthermore, having a child is not about being a hero or receiving praise and applause. It's about giving, not receiving.

It is true that parents need to be able to acknowledge and process their own thoughts, emotions, biases, and preconceptions. But this must be done not only as an end in of itself, but also to enable them to be more emotionally available and informed for the sake of their child, adopted or not.

Also, the three references to God and the Bible, along with the ideas of "love," "chosen," "joy," and "rescue" further indicate how much these ideas seem to unfairly dominate perceptions of adoption, much to the neglect of the loss, grief, and trauma that also characterize adoption.

There is often this tension between how the adoptive parent experiences adoption and how the actual adoptee experiences adoption.

It's not that I am attempting to undermine or oppose adoptive parents who associate adoption with God and the ideas of love, being chosen, and joy. It is natural that these parents would feel love and joy. Practically speaking, it is true that the parents have chosen to adopt a child, and hence the child they adopted has been chosen by them.

But again, these notions are parent-centric, and also one-sided, and can perpetuate misrepresentations and misconceptions of adoption. Furthermore, so often God and the Bible are distorted and misused when discussing adoption.

Parents need a more balanced, accurate perspective that incorporates the complex and multi-faceted nature of being adopted. For example, it is also true that in order to have been chosen by the adoptive parents, the adoptee had to be unchosen, or perhaps more accurately, had to be chosen to be given up, relinquished, lost. In order to be "chosen" to be adopted, the adoptee had to first be "chosen" to lose everything.

Context. Context is everything. Chosen may carry happy connotations for the adoptive parent, but sorrowful connotations for an adoptee. Adoptive parents are often coming from a context of longing and waiting, love and hope. Adoptees are often coming from a context of grief and loss, pain and trauma. [Although, of course, there are adoptive parents that actually also share a context of loss and grief with the adoptee, which rather than being an obstacle can serve as a way for the parents to relate to the adoptee's loss and grief.]

I do find it perplexing, that after all these years, it is still not common knowledge that adoption is built upon loss. I find it unsettling that adult adoptees still have to work so hard to persuade, convince, prove that the difficulties we face are not the exception, but rather the norm. And that our voice is a valid one.

It makes me appreciate all the more the parents who do open themselves up to what we have to say. I only wish that every parent felt so compelled.

Note: I want to clarify for the sake of the parents who participated in the talk that I by no means intend to diminish from them personally. Although the thoughts and opinions I shared in this post were prompted by the talk, they do not reflect a negative judgment on my part of the parents who were present. Rather these are my own observations and opinions and are of course subject to error. Also, hopefully, should any of the parents read this post, I hope you understand that I mean no harm by what I shared. I simply hope that it will provoke any reader to think more deeply about adoption. Furthermore, I welcome input and feedback.

Mother's Day 2010

It is as though my Korean mother, my Omma, died when I was born. And with her passed all my relatives, from my grandparents to my aunts and uncles, to my cousins and my nieces and nephews. They all disappeared for what seemed as though it would be forever.

So, I had to be taken in by another, since no one from my own family or my own country would lay claim to me. For truly, it was as though not only my whole family had died to me and I to them, but a whole nation and its people had died to me and I to them.

Then, both slowly and suddenly, those who had died to one another emerged before one another. More than three decades later, it was as though the deceased had been resurrected.

It is as though, my Omma rose from the dead. It is as though I have risen from the dead.

And now, it would appear that I have two mothers.

But the truth is that I have always had two mothers.

And the truth is that although the years passed as though my Omma was no longer a part of my life, as though she no longer existed, she was always there—lingering in my blood, beneath my skin, deep within my anatomy. She was always there informing and influencing who I was becoming, even beyond my own will, without my full knowledge. Although unknown to me, she was known within me.

No more and no less than my American Mom—but simply in a more silent, covert, DNA-ish kind of way.

I am of both of these women. I am who I am because of two mothers.

And as much as such a thought may dually delight as well as pain all three of us, it is an undeniable truth: I would not be if not for each of these women, if not for both of my mothers.

Transracial adoptions: A 'feel good' act or no 'big deal'?

My husband shared this article, Transracial adoptions: A 'feel good' act or no 'big deal'?, with me from CNN.com's "Living" section.

Give it a read.

For now, all I'm going to say is that I am going to refrain from sharing my opinion--at this point--regarding the content of the article.

Those of you who know me or are at least familiar enough with me probably know what I'm thinking anyway...

Nonetheless, I will respond in greater detail when I have the time.

Things have been considerably busy lately.

I have also wanted to post an entry regarding my most recent "talk" with an adoptive parent group. And I still need to post the aforementioned entry I've been working on regarding, "God and Adoption."

I'll get around to it, hopefully, sooner than later...

Loss upon loss

"I wish I would have gone back earlier. At the same time having gone, you realize that you're never going to have the relationship that you lost and that is another loss too." Ethiopian Adult Adoptee

The above statement was made by an adult adoptee born in Ethiopia and adopted to Sweden.

I wanted to share it, not only because I personally relate to it, but because it also elucidates the reality of post-reunion.

The reality that I am never going to have the relationships with my Omma and Appa that could have been, sinks in more and more with each day that passes. And as the quoted adoptee states, that in and of itself is another loss.

It is easy to romanticize and idealize reunion. I know that I did before reuniting and even in post-reunion, there are times that I prefer to let the whole of the reality slip away so that I can focus on only those aspects of reunion thus far that have been idyllic.

But the truth always catches up with me, or rather always comes crashing down on me.

I have been somewhat caught off guard by the grief that has struck me since meeting my Korean parents. I am having all the more difficulty processing it, while I struggle with intense inner conflicts--the tension between what I feel and what I think I should feel.

Because it is so difficult to find others who understand, I often have trouble acknowledging my losses and my grief. I feel guilty for feeling sad at times and at other times, I feel angry that I must deal with such a confusing, messy predicament. I feel angry that I even have to manage such complex and seemingly irreconcilable and irrevocable differences.

I tell myself that I am one of the fortunate ones to have been able to find and meet my biological parents. I tell myself that it is wrong for me to feel what I am feeling. I tell myself that I am being ungrateful and insatiable for feeling overwhelmed and afraid. I begin to feel like a black hole.

But deep down, I know it is not wrong that I feel what I feel. I cannot help but feel sorrow and fear. As the quote above expresses, as much as reunion brings answers, it also comes with its own losses.

I discuss some of these realities of loss at Adoption Mosaic in the post, "Beyond the Reunion: Dealing with the Realities of Post-Reunion".

Unsigned Masterpiece responded to this post on Adoption Mosaic stating, "You will never get the relationship you might have had back for all the reasons that you mentioned but you will have a new relationship and you will always believe that to know is better than to not know."

To this comment, I replied:

"As you stated, perhaps to know certainly is better than to not know–at least in my particular situation (but not necessarily in all situations…). But with the knowing and the “new relationship” comes a new kind of pain and a new kind of suffering. Even the idea of a “new relationship” is not wholly accurate, simply because it does not feel new in any way. Rather it feels damaged and marked by tragedy and heartbreak. There is a shared history, but that history is defined by loss and grief, trauma and hardship. There is of course hope, but any relationship we are able to forge will require an amount of hard work, energy, and effort that at times feels overwhelming and elusive…"

As of late, I have been feeling particularly anxious and weepy. I think perhaps in part because of the aforementioned losses that accompany even reunion. I am realizing with increased intensity that the losses that accompany the experience of adoption, search, reunion, and post-reunion are deep and pervasive, and so often, indescribable--so much so that I wonder whether I will ever reach an end to its depths.

And thus far since "reunion," I have actually had the opportunity for ongoing contact with my Korean parents. There are adoptees who make contact but must deal with a biological mother who does not wish to have contact or a relationship, which truly is loss upon loss and of a devastation that I know would crush me completely.

To romanticize and idealize reunion can be hard not to do, particularly if you are standing on the outside looking in. But do not be deceived or fooled, there is a depth of loss that is felt even in post-reunion.

Yet certainly, I will not turn back now that I am here.

But I stay here not because reunion and post-reunion are everything that I could ever dream. I stay here not because it feels like a fairy tale.

I choose to remain here because it is simply who I am. I have nowhere else to go and no one else to be.

Beyond the Reunion: Dealing with the Realities of Post-Reunion

I had the opportunity recently to be a guest blogger at an adoption resource site called, Adoption Mosaic, for which "The goal...is to create a safe space where adoption community members can voice their experience, dialogue about issues, and learn from one another."

The article I wrote just posted, Beyond the Reunion: Dealing with the Realities of Post-Reunion.

"Adoption loss is a myth": Why I take it personally

I am realizing more and more that the topic of adoption, and all the practices and perspectives that come with it, really can divide.

It is such a potentially divisive and polarizing issue among families and friends, which of course, is a fact that I find unfortunate and emotionally wrenching. When stability and unity could not be more crucial for an adoptee, the adoptee instead finds him or herself caught in the midst of a family and community confused and divided over what is true and best for the adoptee. (Despite the fact that, in the mean time, a growing number of adult adoptees continue to give voice to their experiences and perspectives.)

I find myself consistently having to persevere to not avoid or withdraw from those who I experience as insensitive toward or uninterested in trying to understand. The amount of hurt and devastation I feel when someone invalidates or diminishes from the very real pain and hardship I have experienced as an adoptee, makes me want to turn into a wall and never feel again.

I think part of the reason I have such a hard time when I encounter people who do not acknowledge the losses of being adopted and all the grief and pain that inherently accompany such losses is that I take it personally.

It’s not easy, you know, putting your heart out there. Discussing the difficulties I have encountered as an adoptee is not necessarily what I’d describe as a fun and heart-warming experience, especially when I encounter folks who seem to consider my experience an anomalous or unfair representation of the adoptee experience.

I take it personally, because it’s as though their refusal to acknowledge the reality of the trauma adoptees have experienced is a refusal to acknowledge the truth of the experience of all the adult adoptees that have been brave enough and vulnerable enough to shed light upon the otherwise neglected hardships of being adopted.

It’s almost as though these people are calling me, and my fellow adoptees, liars.

It's almost as though they mean to say that the lives we adult adoptees have lived, and continue to live, are nothing but myths and make-believe stories.

With the abundance of adult adoptee blogs not to mention the myriad of resources available that educate and address the losses and unique issues faced by adoptees, I find it almost insulting and certainly patronizing when folks, and in particular adoptive parents and family members, choose to turn a blind eye and believe their own ideas over what is actually true.

And it’s not as though I didn’t once think like some of these adoptive parents or the general public. If you had spoken with my fifteen year old self, or even ten years later had a conversation with my twenty-five year old self, you would have walked away thinking that I had no desire whatsoever to know my biological parents, and even more so that being adopted had caused me no harm or issue.

Despite what you may think, I did not always think the way that I do now. And the way I think now is not because I’m an apple that went rotten. Really, it's quite the opposite--it's that I finally reached maturation.

I grew up—literally. This means my brain metamorphosed and developed dramatically, and hence my capacity to understand and process complex human thought and emotion eventually developed with it.

As I have mentioned before, the capacity of a ten-year old versus a thirty-year old to process the implications of his or her adoption are literally developmentally and physiologically different.

Although the capacity increases with each year of development, the maturity to process it all may take years to develop.

Albeit later than sooner, I did finally allow myself to think what had seemed unthinkable to me before. I allowed myself to feel what I had once believed was untouchable. I allowed what was buried to be excavated and revealed--with all its glory, and well, all its crud.

And as I inspected and examined all that emerged, I also began to realize that I was not crazy for feeling and thinking all that I was feeling and thinking. I began to see that I had not conjured up these thoughts and emotions from some imaginary place. They had always been within me, yet hidden and latent like the viscous and deep contents of a dormant volcano.

My life began to make sense. Who I was began to make sense. I found explanation for what had always seemed inexplicable.

It’s true that each adoptee responds to his or her adoption in his or her own way. Certainly, we are not cookies made from a cookie cutter. But there are basic truths that characterize the adoptee experience—and one of those crucial, fundamental truths is the truth of loss, and all the grief and pain that comes along with it.

Why is that so hard for parents and family, friends and strangers to acknowledge this? And why is it so hard for me to press on in the midst of the lack of acknowledgment and the ensuing factions of thought?

Perhaps the answer is that at times, we all take it so personally, while at other times, we may not take it quite personally enough.

"Adoptees are not Cultural Bridges" by Mei-Ling Huang

“People are much more willing to listen to those who validate every aspect of adoption rather than those who criticize it – even if the criticizing is not a reflection of how the adoptee was raised in their adoptive household.”

The above is a quoted from "Adoptees are not Cultural Bridges" written by blogger, Mei-Ling--a transracial adoptee born in Taiwan, raised in Canada. She blogs at Shadow Between Two Worlds and Exile of Xingnan (NOT to be confused with Mei-Ling Hopgood who wrote the memoir, Lucky Girl.)