I don’t wait for the girls to bring up adoption. I initiate. Intuitively I know when they are worked up about a curiosity and they also talk freely among themselves and don’t make a big deal out of it.
The adoptive moms’ bookclub had a lot of questions about my approach. They asked if it’s not harsh to keep bringing it up myself. Like pointing out what separates us. Keeping it in the forefront of our minds. And theirs.
For a few years we didn’t talk much about adoption – we practically forgot or we just put it out of our mind, this aspect of our family. It settled to the bottom like the muck in a pond. And we didn’t agitate it.
Occasionally as questions about adoption would come up, it felt like a murkiness clouding everything because we were not used to the information being challenged, activated, ruffled.
But as I see it, bringing adoption up early and often, we create this flow, like a river, with fresh clear water and stones that filter and catch the dirt. The water is clean even if feet trample it. The little particles of clay are filtered and whatever big questions come up we take them in stride.
Kids have big emotions but parents have big emotions too.
After my meeting with the adoptive moms I found this story assignment that Ivy did. She is harder to read, keeps her thoughts in, seems very at peace but I know a lot more is going on in her heart and mind.
In her made up story she was describing how on a summer day we went into town and then I told them I have a surprise and I took them to meet their real father. They had ice cream with him. After that we came home and we watched a movie.
That was it.
The teacher corrected some of her spelling. On days like these I am so glad the teacher knows she is adopted. Because this creative writing is unsettling.
To be honest I felt hurt by the choice of words: “real father”. Nearly five years ago she was processing this transition related to her string of mothers. We were in the states and she was reflecting on how she has a biological mom, a foster mom and an adoptive mom. And that I am her real mom. Her words. And labeling them in such a way honored me. But because we never talk about her biological dad she called him her real dad. And he is unknown. Even on her original birth certificate he didn’t claim fatherhood. He was a microscopic cell contribution to her becoming. And yet she thinks of him. And it is not for us to manage or control. It is for us to help her process her thoughts and emotions in relation to his existence.
On a walk with Rufus I asked her in passing if she thinks of her bio mom. Nope! She answered. How about her bio dad? To my surprise she answered yet with enthusiasm and explanations to follow. In the evenings the sisters talk and imagine how their bio dads as. She is convinced that her bio dad is skinny and fast like her. And Jackie’s bio dad is strong like Jackie.
And if they could, they would be curious to meet them. But most likely they won’t.
And then the conversation moved on to pets and her wanting a Guineea pig.
Hearing the reflection and thoughts behind the words she wrote in her assignment changed my perspective. She didn’t mean anything by it. She doesn’t fantasize about having a cooler dad. She is just aware she is biologically related to a person she may never meet. And it is good and healthy for her to air out her thoughts. Let the river flow. Allow for the splashes. Let the muck be stirred and settled. We still go on our own river path.
I was worried to even say any of this to conrad. After I rephrased the situation I shared with him an overview of it, regarding their curiosity about the paternal lineage. And their jokes about how one is strong and the other one is fast.
Adoptive moms deal with the replacement and comparison and competition from day one. The ache and healing and longing … the earlier we start the process the easier it gets. We don’t cover up with nice stories. We don’t hide from the reality. Slowly we embrace it and accept it.
But the father has his own role and part in the story – and kids often don’t feel free to explore their curiosity or longing. No matter how great the present father is, or even the Heavenly Father, where it ll started and how carries some weight and intrigue.
Have you listened to your kid’s heart about this?