Talking about yourself comes naturally here in California. People open up to me at work, and I feel at ease talking about myself to practically strangers.
I am honest and my story has depth, for whoever wants to listen. Coming from a culture where people are actually a lot more private, but meeting half way, not overbearing, not closed off, something beautiful turns up.
I feel such joy talking about my daughter, and about our story of coming together. In Romania I have a sense of responsibility to speak up about adoption, to inform about the truth, as it is such a tabu topic, when I strongly believe it shouldn’t be.
For the first time I felt such freedom to say just that we discovered that we can’t have kids and this is how we decided to pursue adoption. No other explanations needed. In Romania (it may be just in my head) I get a sense of judgement that I “scored” such a hot cool American and I can’t even give him natural children. But not here. I don’t feel the jump to conclusions. And hopefully not anymore anywhere else either.
When we first got matched with Jackie I wanted to tell everyone, shout it from the top of the buildings: “We are adopting this marvelous girl and we are incredibly happy!” In a book about adoption that I read it talked about that phase, which soon turns into more down to earth feelings. Well, I still feel like telling everyone that we adopted and we are so happy.
I hope and hoped that my genuine joy and faith is contagious enough to make people think twice about the possibility of adopting. We have made ourselves available to answer any and all questions, honestly, and accurate about the process …and to my delight, people who have used for our input have already been matched with wonderful kids. And there are more out there waiting. So maybe it has not all been in vain.
I understand, being here in California, that there are people who have toyed with the idea of adopting, but it felt as prohibitive as we felt it while living here, and they may not have the option or the inclination to move to a developing country to adopt, or it’s just not possible. Period.
Adoption is beautiful to me. In an instant I can connect now with people who have crossed path with adoption or foster care. I still want to share my joy with everyone and anyone willing to hear it. And I do. I told all my colleagues at work. They asked me why I moved to Romania. So I told them, one or few at a time, my story. And they are such good conversationalists. Fr my sake, or they just get something out of it… who knows. I take it.
In a few years I know I will have to tone down my excitement and make room for Jackie’s story, and let herself define her own. Be respectful of her privacy and let her share if she wants about the beautiful way we were grafted together. We each have our own narrative in the same story, but the ones affecting her directly, I want to be mindful. At the same time, my joy for adoption seems to instill in her a sense of celebration and curiosity. She now asks loudly, regardless of our surroundings: “so why did you adopt me?” and then she answers herself: “I know! because you love me!”