Showing posts with label Pictures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pictures. Show all posts
January 09, 2013
March 30, 2012
Spoiler Alert
Part one, part two, part three
At some point during that emotionally charged time after the baby was born but before any steps had been made toward his eventual placement, I found myself standing with the social worker in a quiet hallway. Somehow we got onto the topic of those reality shows that follow expectant parents and prospective adoptive parents around from pre-birth matches to placement.
"It's hard to think of a worse time to have cameras around," I commented.
"Oh, I know. Our agency has gotten called more than once trying to get us to participate in those shows," she said, the disdain in her voice making her opinion clear.
I've said my piece about those shows before, but one of the many things about them that sets me to grinding my teeth in rage--and among the things the social worker and I talked about that day--is their framing of relinquishment/placement as the conclusion of a story. In the interest of shoehorning real-life events into a dramatic storyline, the show-makers nearly always present it as a conflict of, "Will the birthmother go through with it? Will the adoptive parents get that baby they so deserve?". (Biased, unethical language intended there.) The placement, then, serves as their tidy, happy ending.
There are so many damaging ripples from shows telling the story that way, over and over. (Imagine for a moment if instead the happy ending were the new mom finding a way to parent after all.) But the least of them is simply that it is not an open adoption. That is the tip of the iceberg, the starting point for a lifetime of exploring, working on, experiencing the richness and challenge, grief and joy of openness in adoption. Don't show me a made-for-tv storyline culled from a several weeks of a pre-birth match and placement and tell me that is an "adoption story". You haven't shown me the story of an adoption. You've only shown me the events leading up to the very start of an adoption, one in which relationships will grow and change, and in which the most important person--the adoptee--has yet to gain a voice and active role.
In order to keep this story from falling into that same trap, allow me to spoil the ending-that-is-not-really-an-ending for you before continuing on. Meet our newest son, born to Shamika and Derrick. He turned two weeks old yesterday. This isn't just a story about how our family became his. It's the first chapter of a lifetime-long tale that is only just beginning.
August 29, 2011
Our Day With Ray
One of the things we got to do on our long road trip was see each of Eddi'es first parents. We live 1000 miles apart, so being together in person is always a treat. Todd took care of scheduling days, but we had Eddie decide how he wanted to spend the time. For our day with Ray, his first dad, he settled on a beach trip.
We met Ray in a parking lot about halfway between his house and where were staying and all piled into our car to drive to the beach. I feel like a broken record, I say this so often, but Eddie thinks Ray is the bee's knees. He loves him wholeheartedly. He warmed right up to him as we stuffed ourselves into the car, me in the backseat between the kids in their carseats, Ray up front in the passanger seat.
Despite it being hot hot hot that week, the beach we went to was windy and downright not warm at first. The kids didn't seem to mind. Mari got right to work digging in the sand (she discovered a bitty plastic green army guy at some point, which pretty much made her day).
It was a pleasant day. We ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Todd dug a big sand pit that the kids jumped into with glee. Mari dared to go into the water at one point, her first time touching the ocean. It even warmed up a bit when the wind stopped blowing. And Eddie was so very happy, there with "my Ray," as he calls him.
For a good stretch of the afternoon I sat on the blanket with Mari next to me in the sand, while Eddie, Todd and Ray explored the beach. I watched the three of them playing at the edge of the water, Eddie dancing and laughing in the waves. He would bounce around Ray, tugging at him, being goofy with him, enjoying Ray and the water and the sun as Todd and Ray talked over his head in the spaces between his words, as adults do. Bigger waves would come and Eddie would reach out for Todd's hand, seeking safety. I watched them for a long time like that, Eddie between his two fathers, finding his comfort and happiness in the space between them as he needed it. Contained in that moment, it felt simple. Relaxed. Right.
We met Ray in a parking lot about halfway between his house and where were staying and all piled into our car to drive to the beach. I feel like a broken record, I say this so often, but Eddie thinks Ray is the bee's knees. He loves him wholeheartedly. He warmed right up to him as we stuffed ourselves into the car, me in the backseat between the kids in their carseats, Ray up front in the passanger seat.
Despite it being hot hot hot that week, the beach we went to was windy and downright not warm at first. The kids didn't seem to mind. Mari got right to work digging in the sand (she discovered a bitty plastic green army guy at some point, which pretty much made her day).
It was a pleasant day. We ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Todd dug a big sand pit that the kids jumped into with glee. Mari dared to go into the water at one point, her first time touching the ocean. It even warmed up a bit when the wind stopped blowing. And Eddie was so very happy, there with "my Ray," as he calls him.
For a good stretch of the afternoon I sat on the blanket with Mari next to me in the sand, while Eddie, Todd and Ray explored the beach. I watched the three of them playing at the edge of the water, Eddie dancing and laughing in the waves. He would bounce around Ray, tugging at him, being goofy with him, enjoying Ray and the water and the sun as Todd and Ray talked over his head in the spaces between his words, as adults do. Bigger waves would come and Eddie would reach out for Todd's hand, seeking safety. I watched them for a long time like that, Eddie between his two fathers, finding his comfort and happiness in the space between them as he needed it. Contained in that moment, it felt simple. Relaxed. Right.
July 27, 2011
August 24, 2010
This Is What Open Adoption Looks Like
Click below to see photos of the kids being forced into visits before they're old enough to decide for themselves enjoying time with birth family members
July 07, 2010
Wordless(ish) Wednesday
The photo quality is terrible and I'll password protect this tomorrow, but I couldn't resist sharing Puppy's absolute joy at the fireworks show Sunday night. Oh, to be four years old again.
June 22, 2010
The Kidlets
Some recent pictures of the kids, who are growing like weeds. Same password as always. My email has been a little wonky lately, so if you asked for the password and it seemed like I never responded it wasn't because I was shunning you. That actually goes for any email to me.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
December 27, 2009
Loot
Santa came through. With not just any blue socks, mind you, but bright blue. Because, as I was emphatically told by a certain four year old, dark blue is not right. Do you know how hard it is to find bright blue socks in my town? Santa does:
Remember when you were really little and the holidays could maybe sorta kinda bring you everything your heart desired? It's a little harder now that my heart's desires include things like wholeness for my kids. But it's not like I don't have a shallower side. I did get a Figs & Ginger necklace I've been coveting for a good year now:
Come follow Firefly if you want to see some pictures from our day. Let me know if you need the password.
Remember when you were really little and the holidays could maybe sorta kinda bring you everything your heart desired? It's a little harder now that my heart's desires include things like wholeness for my kids. But it's not like I don't have a shallower side. I did get a Figs & Ginger necklace I've been coveting for a good year now:
Aw, my two little baby birds. This is about as cheesy as I get with jewelry.
Come follow Firefly if you want to see some pictures from our day. Let me know if you need the password.
December 21, 2009
A Weekend With Beth
Beth leaves this afternoon; she came up on Saturday to spend the weekend with us. It's been a low-key, enjoyable time. Beth, Todd and Puppy went Christmas shopping at the bookstore while Firefly napped on Saturday. We ate dinner, exchanged presents. We watched "Elf" after Firefly went to bed, and found out it's a common holiday favorite of ours. (Todd: "I like the adoption themes in it, how affirming it is about wanting to explore all these different parts of your identity and know your birth family." Adoptee and birth mom Beth: "I just think it's really funny.") On Sunday we did church and headed out to see the lights at the zoo along with my mom and dad in the pouring rain. Firefly confirmed her status as the only true native of our rainy state (the rest of us are all out-of-state transplants) by being completely unfazed by the wetness. "Rain? What rain? LIGHTS! LIGHTS!"
Firefly has been cutely social all weekend, which I think Beth has enjoyed. She wanted nothing to do with anyone but her everyday parents the last time Beth was up here, which was tough. But she's been quite chatty and playful and Beth has returned the favor tenfold by showing her lots of love. Puppy just about lost his mind on Saturday evening that his sister was getting so much more attention than he was. So we can now add that to the list of quirkier parenting issues I've faced down: attending to a sibling's jealousy when the other child's first parent is visiting.
If there is anything noteworthy about Beth's visit, it is only how un-noteworthy it feels. I'm only speaking for myself, obviously--I don't know how loaded the time may or may not have been for Beth--but wasn't A Visit the way these times can sometimes feel in open adoption. (Says the woman who has an entire category of posts labeled "Visits.") Just a few days spent with someone we care about.
Of all our kids' first family members, Beth has been the most vulnerable and open with us by far about what placing and adoption has been like for her, including the difficult parts. She's also been the easiest of our first family relationships thus far. I have no idea if those two things are connected, but I find them interesting. I don't fault the other folks at all for not sharing as much; I'm a very private person and would never obligate someone to share something so personal as that, especially with the adoptive parents. But five years ago, when we were just dipping our toes into open adoption, I wouldn't have guessed that our easiest relationship would also be the one in which more of the harder stuff was laid right out on the table. I might have guessed that would be an uncomfortable obstacle or a sign that something had gone wrong. But that hasn't been true at all with Beth. Which aligns with everything I've learned and am learning about adoptive parenting and not being afraid to talk about harder adoption stuff as it comes up for our kids, to see it as normal and healthy and not an indicator that things are going haywire. So much about being a good adoption participant always seems to boil down to that basic thing: setting my ego (and its insecurities) aside and just really listening. Holding up other people as more important than myself. Which is the most basic element of being a good friend or spouse or parent, really, yet something I seem to keep needing to learn over and over.
Because I have no closing--and simply because it's been awhile since I posted pictures--I'll leave you with a couple of recent photos of the kids:
Firefly has been cutely social all weekend, which I think Beth has enjoyed. She wanted nothing to do with anyone but her everyday parents the last time Beth was up here, which was tough. But she's been quite chatty and playful and Beth has returned the favor tenfold by showing her lots of love. Puppy just about lost his mind on Saturday evening that his sister was getting so much more attention than he was. So we can now add that to the list of quirkier parenting issues I've faced down: attending to a sibling's jealousy when the other child's first parent is visiting.
If there is anything noteworthy about Beth's visit, it is only how un-noteworthy it feels. I'm only speaking for myself, obviously--I don't know how loaded the time may or may not have been for Beth--but wasn't A Visit the way these times can sometimes feel in open adoption. (Says the woman who has an entire category of posts labeled "Visits.") Just a few days spent with someone we care about.
Of all our kids' first family members, Beth has been the most vulnerable and open with us by far about what placing and adoption has been like for her, including the difficult parts. She's also been the easiest of our first family relationships thus far. I have no idea if those two things are connected, but I find them interesting. I don't fault the other folks at all for not sharing as much; I'm a very private person and would never obligate someone to share something so personal as that, especially with the adoptive parents. But five years ago, when we were just dipping our toes into open adoption, I wouldn't have guessed that our easiest relationship would also be the one in which more of the harder stuff was laid right out on the table. I might have guessed that would be an uncomfortable obstacle or a sign that something had gone wrong. But that hasn't been true at all with Beth. Which aligns with everything I've learned and am learning about adoptive parenting and not being afraid to talk about harder adoption stuff as it comes up for our kids, to see it as normal and healthy and not an indicator that things are going haywire. So much about being a good adoption participant always seems to boil down to that basic thing: setting my ego (and its insecurities) aside and just really listening. Holding up other people as more important than myself. Which is the most basic element of being a good friend or spouse or parent, really, yet something I seem to keep needing to learn over and over.
Because I have no closing--and simply because it's been awhile since I posted pictures--I'll leave you with a couple of recent photos of the kids:
October 29, 2009
An Adoption Photo
Football has always been something Ray and Todd shared in common. They were both coaching high school teams the year Puppy was born; I remember Ray coming back to the hospital room late one night after a game (which he and Todd promptly spent the good part of an hour dissecting play by play). Every phone call between them eventually turns to football.
Puppy recognized this commonality early on. Not surprising, given that it's nearly impossible to miss. I think it's important to him as a way he can connect with his two dads at the same time. Footballs and football teams and football shirts and football love are something the three of them can share, an overlapping space all of them can comfortably occupy. They throw the ball around in some fashion every time we get together. He can pick out Ray and Todd's favorite teams on the television and roots for them by color.
This picture is from Ray's visit in August. Football was a major theme of the visit. The three of them tossed a ball around in the yard more than once and went to one of Todd's practices together. On this evening, a pajama-ed Puppy had toddled over to where Ray and Todd were talking with this helmet in his hands. I love the symmetry in Ray and Todd as they gaze at Puppy, they way they share the same tilt of the head, the same proud smiles.
I treasure this picture because it reminds me that, as bittersweet as it sometimes is, open adoption makes this sort of overlap possible and real. It's not just us telling Puppy that his birth dad likes football, too. It's him experiencing that for himself, seeing the similarities and differences between his fathers, watching them enjoy each other as peers.
(I'm password protecting the picture because I'm shy like that, but just contact me for the secret code if you don't have it already.)
See other entries in the latest GIMH Adoption Carnival here...
Puppy recognized this commonality early on. Not surprising, given that it's nearly impossible to miss. I think it's important to him as a way he can connect with his two dads at the same time. Footballs and football teams and football shirts and football love are something the three of them can share, an overlapping space all of them can comfortably occupy. They throw the ball around in some fashion every time we get together. He can pick out Ray and Todd's favorite teams on the television and roots for them by color.
This picture is from Ray's visit in August. Football was a major theme of the visit. The three of them tossed a ball around in the yard more than once and went to one of Todd's practices together. On this evening, a pajama-ed Puppy had toddled over to where Ray and Todd were talking with this helmet in his hands. I love the symmetry in Ray and Todd as they gaze at Puppy, they way they share the same tilt of the head, the same proud smiles.
I treasure this picture because it reminds me that, as bittersweet as it sometimes is, open adoption makes this sort of overlap possible and real. It's not just us telling Puppy that his birth dad likes football, too. It's him experiencing that for himself, seeing the similarities and differences between his fathers, watching them enjoy each other as peers.
(I'm password protecting the picture because I'm shy like that, but just contact me for the secret code if you don't have it already.)
See other entries in the latest GIMH Adoption Carnival here...
December 24, 2008
November 15, 2008
September 01, 2008
April 27, 2008
February 28, 2008
February 21, 2008
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