Things My Children Wish
My children. My sweet, sweet children. Life was not fair to them the moment they were born. It just goes that way sometimes, doesn't it? But I think we can agree that we'd like to be a little older and wiser before we have to deal with the junk of life. My children came into this world with so much potential and the odds stacked completely against them.
When we adopted each child, we were passionate about educating ourselves about their race, their heritage, and their identity. We also did our fair share (and required) homework of adoption issues of attachment, bonding, and parenting. I think, deep down in the hidden places of my heart, that I've always been more concerned about my children's race issues than I have about their adoption issues. Not issues of could I love my children even if they are so different from me. Hardly. Not at all. More the issues of would my children love me because I am different from them. When they look at me and see my white skin and my white life, would they still accept me as the person they want raising them?
For now, my color doesn't bother my kids at all. Color blindness goes both ways. From me to them and them to me. What bothers them is that they didn't grow in my stomach. Each and every one of them has expressed that to me more than once. My straight hair and freckles and hazel eyes are insignificant. They miss that "very beginning" with me that all the other children they know seem to possess. We have wonderful talks about it--how precious their birth mothers are/were. How blessed they are to have two families. (They really are.) How being "different" does not make their lives any less significant. How being placed with David and me was tough and hard and fabulous and wonderful and miraculous and unfair all at once.
I have many years of parenting left to go. I am still prepared for a time when my color will disappoint them. When they no longer care about not growing in my tummy but are frustrated that they had to grow up with Caucasian parents. I am hoping it will be a short season of disappointment, though. And that our family--our precious, different, stand-out-in-a-crowd, tough, blessed, committed family--will trump our racial differences.
8 comments:
I get it, and I think about it often, too!
This was a nice post to read, I think/worry about the same things...
You know how much respect I have for you and the way you parent your amazing kiddos. I truly can't wait to be able to talk face to face with you about some of these tough issues. You give me so much to think about, and offer me some much-needed perspective.
I'm sure you know that I am *very* focused on race/racism/privilege. Making sure that my kids feel affirmed, see people who look like them reflected in our everywhere we go, and grow up to feel confident in their intrinsic worth is my priority #1. I also focus a lot on the uniqueness of our family, and the fact that they have more than one set of parents. But I've never considered that part of the loss my kids might have to come to terms with is the loss of me having carried them. Pregnancy was never something I wanted, so I didn't have to grieve not having one. but you've definitely opened my eyes to the fact that they might grieve not having that bond with me...
You have always been a trailblazer, and I learn so much from the stories that you're willing to share. Thank you.
Perhaps they will process those thoughts at some point in their lives...and then, I'm certain they will realized how blessed they are with the parents they have. Parents who chose them. Parents who embraced different races. Parents who love them and make them feel safe and cherished.
amen
Good post Cathy! Little B has seen pictures of me pregnant and has said "me in there". Even though he's been told his story multiple times he keeps holding onto hope that he was, at one time, in my tummy. Breaks my heart every time.
Beautiful, Cathy. I like the "short season of disappointment." I have the tendency to see these as all-or-nothing struggles, but it is much less daunting to think of them as phases of understanding/development and all part of a greater (and, we hope) positive story.
I had to grow up with your Uncles. How disappointing could that be?
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