From Another Family?

A few nights ago, we were at the dinner table, and the kids were bantering back and forth, and David tossed out, “That was like what the girls said about me coming from another family!”

 

Silence.

 

I finally said, “What exactly did they tell you?”

 

He said, “They said that I wasn’t born in this family, and that I came from someone else.”

 

I don’t know if he thought they were just saying that to tease him or be mean to him.  I said, “Well, that’s kind of true.  Remember, we’ve talked about this.  You’re adopted, which means you didn’t grow in my tummy, you grew in another lady’s tummy.  But you’ve always been part of our family, since the minute you were born, and you always will be.”

 

There was quiet again while he seemed to be thinking about this.  One of the girls said, “Well, this is depressing!”

 

I said, “No, it’s not.  Adoption is a good thing, and we’re not ashamed of it.  Adoption is the reason we have David, so we’re very grateful for it.”

 

David said, “Why did I go to you and not her?”

 

I called him over to sit on my lap, and he did.  I told him, “She was very young, and her legs didn’t work right.  She couldn’t take care of herself very well, she couldn’t drive or anything, and she didn’t think she could take care of a baby.  She wanted you to be taken care of.”

 

“What did she look like?”

 

“She is very pretty.  She has dark hair like yours and dark eyes like yours, and dark skin, too, even darker than yours.”

 

He kind of rested his head on my shoulder for a minute (which I love—he’s 8 and doesn’t snuggle as much as he used to).  We sat in silence for a few minutes and I finally said, “Do you want to ask anything else?  You can always ask Daddy or me anything you want to.”

 

He said no, climbed off my lap, and went off to watch TV.  In the meantime, DH took the girls in the other room and spoke to them about saying that talking about adoption is depressing.  He explained that that’s not what we believe, and saying things like that might make David not want to ask questions if he has any.

 

This is the first time he’s ever asked about his birthmother.  I don’t think that before this he ever realized that being adopted meant that there had to be another real person connected to him.  He was kind of clingy for the rest of the day, as he tends to be whenever adoption is brought up, but he hasn’t said anything since.

This article from the Washington Times, simply called “Adoption from Haiti,” tells the story of childless millionaires Craig and Kathi Juntunen and their journey toward adopting 3 kids from orphanages in Haiti.  The couple was adamantly childless, until Craig went to Haiti on a fact-finding mission to several orphanages.  Once there, he made instant connections with 3 separate kids at 3 separate times.  He had the experience so many prospective parents have at foreign orphanages.  The connection, the instant love, the deep sense of knowing that you are meant for each other.

Craig and Kathi were lucky that they had the resources to travel back and forth between their home and Haiti to visit their kids while the adoption process was being worked through.  And that was several years ago, when things weren’t so strict in Haiti.  Things are much stricter now, even though last year’s earthquake has left orphans in even more dire straits–there are more of them and less money to care for them.

Craig has become passionate about the cause of international adoption.  If there are kids languishing in orphanages, and families who want them, why does it take so long to get them matched up?  Between corruption and some kind of inchoate resentment toward the US, foreign governments have begun putting more and more roadblocks in the path of US parents who want to adopt children from other countries.  Craig’s foundation, Both Ends Burning, is in the process of writing up international guidelines for international adoptions–so that everyone has to follow the same rules, and nobody can hide behind corruption or culture.

Because, let’s face it, while governments make things harder on each other, there are children who need families, individual human beings who could be in loving homes but aren’t.  It’s not right to sacrifice them to policy wars.

This devotional was sent to me by a church friend.  I like how it presents Joseph’s point of view.

Joseph’s Letter Home — a Christmas Story

by Dr. Ralph F. Wilson

Dear Mom,

We’re still in Bethlehem – Mary and I and little Jesus.

There were lots of things I couldn’t talk to you about last summer.   You wouldn’t have believed me then, but maybe I can tell you now.   I hope you can understand.

You know, Mom, I’ve always loved Mary.   You and Dad used to tease me about her when she was still a girl.   She and her brothers used to play on our street.   Our families got together for supper.   But the hardest day of my life came scarcely a year ago when I was twenty and she only fifteen.   You remember that day, don’t you?

The trouble started after we were betrothed and signed the marriage agreement at our engagement.   That same spring Mary had left abruptly to visit her old cousin Elizabeth in Judea .   She was gone three whole months.   After she got back, people started wondering out loud if she were pregnant.

It was cloudy the day when I finally confronted her with the gossip.   “Mary,” I asked at last, “are you going to have a baby?”

Her clear brown eyes met mine.   She nodded.

I didn’t know what to say.   “Who?” I finally stammered.

Mom, Mary and I had never acted improperly – even after we were betrothed.

Mary looked down.   “Joseph,” she said, “There’s no way I can explain.   You couldn’t understand.   But I want you to know I’ve never cared for anyone but you.”   She got up, gently took my hands in hers, kissed each of them as if it were the last time she would ever do that again, and then turned towards home.   She must have been dying inside.   I know I was.

The rest of the day I stumbled through my chores.   It’s a wonder I didn’t hurt myself in the woodshop.   At first I was angry and pounded out my frustrations on the doorframe I was making.   My thoughts whirled so fast I could hardly keep my mind on my work.   At last I decided just to end the marriage contract with a quiet divorce.   I loved her too much to make a public scene.

I couldn’t talk to you – or anyone, for that matter.   I went to bed early and tried to sleep.   Her words came to me over and over.   “I’ve never cared for anyone but you…. I’ve never cared for anyone but you….”   How I wished I could believe her!

I don’t know when I finally fell asleep.   Mom, I had a dream from God.   An angel of the Lord came to me.   His words pulsated through my mind so intensely I can remember them as if it were yesterday.

“Joseph, son of David,” he thundered, “do not fear to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.”

I couldn’t believe my ears, Mom.   This was the answer!   The angel continued, “She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

The angel gripped my shoulders with his huge hands.   For a long moment his gaze pierced deep within me.   Just as he turned to go, I think I saw a smile on his shining face.

I sat bolt upright in bed.   No sleep after that!   I tossed about for a while, going over the words in my mind.   Then I got up and dressed quietly so I wouldn’t wake you.

I must have walked for miles beneath the moonless sky.   Stars pricked the blackness like a thousand tiny pinpoints.   A warm breeze blew on my face.

I sang to the Lord, Mom.   Yes, me, singing, if you can imagine that.   I couldn’t contain my joy.   I told Him that I would take Mary and care for her.   I told Him I would watch over her – and the child – no matter what anyone said.

I got back just as the sun kissed the hilltops.   I don’t know if you still recall that morning, Mom.   I can see it in my mind’s eye as if it were yesterday.   You were feeding the chickens, surprised to see me out.   Remember?

“Sit down,” I said to you.   “I’ve got to tell you something.”   I took your arm and helped you find a seat on the big rock out back.   “Mom,” I said, “I’m going to bring Mary home as my wife.   Can you help make a place for her things?”

You were silent a long time.   “You do know what they’re saying, don’t you, son?” you said at last, your eyes glistening.

“Yes, Mom, I know.”

Your voice started to rise.   “If your father were still alive, he’d have some words, I’ll tell you.   Going about like that before you are married.   Disgracing the family and all.   You… you and Mary ought to be ashamed of yourselves!”

You’d never have believed me if I’d tried to explain, so I didn’t.   Unless the angel had spoken to you, you’d have laughed me to scorn.

“Mom, this is the right thing to do,” I said.

And then I started talking to you as if I were the head of the house.   “When she comes I don’t want one word to her about it,” I sputtered.   “She’s your daughter-in-law, you’ll respect her.   She’ll need your help if she’s to bear the neighbors’ wagging tongues!”

I’m sorry, Mom.   You didn’t deserve that.   You started to get up in a huff.

“Mom,” I murmured, “I need you.”   You took my hand and got to your feet, but the fire was gone from your eyes.

“You can count on me, Joseph,” you told me with a long hug.   And you meant it.   I never heard another word.   No bride could hope for a better mother-in-law than you those next few months.

Mom, after I left you I went up the road to Mary’s house and knocked.   Her mother glared at me as she opened the door.   Loudly, harshly she called into the house, “It’s Joseph!” almost spitting out my name as she said it.

My little Mary came out cringing, as if she expected me to give her the back of my hand, I suppose.   Her eyes were red and puffy.   I can just imagine what her parents had said.

We walked a few steps from the house.   She looked so young and afraid.   “Pack your things, Mary,” I told her gently.   “I’m taking you home to be my wife.”

“Joseph!”   She hugged me as tight as she could.   Mom, I didn’t realize she was so strong.

I told her what I’d been planning.   “We’ll go to Rabbi Ben-Ezer’s house this week and have him perform the ceremony.”

I know it was awfully sudden, Mom, but I figured the sooner we got married the better it would be for her, and me, and the baby.

“Mary, even if our friends don’t come, at least you and I can pledge our love before God.”   I paused.   “I think my Mom will be there.   And maybe your friend Rebecca would come if her dad will let her.   How about your parents?”

I could feel Mary’s tiny frame shuddering as she sobbed quietly.

“Mary,” I said.   I could feel myself speaking more boldly.   “No matter what anyone says about you, I’m proud you’re going to be my wife.   I’m going to take good care of you.   I’ve promised God that.”

She looked up.

I lowered my voice.   “I had a dream last night, Mary.   I saw an angel.   I know.”

The anguish which had gripped her face vanished.   She was radiant as we turned away from the house and began to walk up the hill together.

Just then her mother ran out into the yard.   “Wait,” she called.   She must have been listening from behind the door.   Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“I’ll get your father,” she called, almost giddy with emotion.   “We,” she cried as she gathered up her skirts.   “We,” she shouted as she began to run to find her husband.   “We… are going to have a wedding!”

That’s how it was, Mom.   Thanks for being there for us.   I’ll write again soon.

Love, Joseph

Here’s the article from AOL’s Parent Dish.

Obviously, I’m not going to be objective on this.  The thought of someone taking my child away is stunning, horrifying, appalling…I can’t think of words strong enough.  It’s enough to make me plan scenarios of leaving town in the middle of the night and living in Canada under an assumed name, just to keep my family together.  It was 10 months before our own adoption was finalized, and we lived on tenterhooks, afraid that the biological father, T, would swoop down out of nowhere, or that the biological mother, J, would change her mind.  But they didn’t, and the adoption was finalized and legalized and it’s irreversible.

At least, it should be.  This couple in Ohio, the Vaughns, have a finalized, legal, permanent adoption, too.  And yet the biological father says that he wants custody after more than 3 years.  Some fathers’ rights advocates have tried to make this a case of…well, fathers’ rights.  They insist that a single father can raise a child successfully if he’s motivated.

I don’t doubt that for a second.  Look, in my family, we’ve had stellar examples of fatherhood, and if I died, my own DH would raise our kids just fine.  There’d be a few rough moments with the teenage girls, but no real worries.  And I absolutely believe that fathers should have to sign off on adoptions–T did (we made sure of it).  It takes two people to create every child, and both of those people should have some say in what happens to that child.  And adoptive parents should know enough to cover their you-know-whats by getting the requisite signatures.

But there was a possibility that this man was the father of this child, and he abandoned the mother, anyway.  He wasn’t involved in her pregnancy.  He didn’t even get a paternity test done for over a year.  He didn’t contact the adoptive parents or even their lawyers, he never expressed interest in the child beyond claiming that he might be the father.  And in Ohio law, if you abandon the mother early in her pregnancy, she doesn’t have to get your consent to the adoption. In any case, this man isn’t the legal birth-certificate father of the child-the BM’s ex-husband is.

There is such a thing as open adoption, you know.  This father could have been, and could still be, part of his son’s life, while not removing him from his parents and siblings.  It doesn’t even look like the courts explored that option.  They issued a turn-him-in-within-24-hours order, which the Vaughns have appealed.

This kind of thing can be avoided, and states better get their butts in gear revising their laws.  Here are a few things that can be done:

• Women, don’t sleep with more than one man at a time.  That way if you get pregnant, you’ll know who the father is.
• Men, don’t abandon a woman you get pregnant.  What, you think that since you don’t have to carry the child, that lets you off the hook?
• Men, indicate from the beginning that you want to raise this child.  If the BM brings in prospective birth parents, tell them you’ll fight for your baby.  Contact whatever agency the BM is using.  You have rights, but the time to exercise them is BEFORE that baby is placed in another family.
• Adoptive parents, don’t assume the law is on your side.  Plan for every eventuality.  Be cynical and suspicious.  Even if you’re not required to get the BF’s signature, get it, or be able to demonstrate that you’ve done everything in your power to get it.  Instruct your lawyer to go to extreme measures to secure this.
• Adoptive parents, don’t assume anyone but you has that child’s best interests at heart.  The courts don’t care, and have a bias toward biological parents no matter how unfit they are.  The biological parents knew at one time that you were the best option for their baby–that fact doesn’t change, only their feelings about it.
• State legislatures, fix these ridiculous loopholes.  Require paternal notification and consent on every adoption placement, so that these men can’t say later that they didn’t consent, and rip their preschoolers from the arms of loving parents and siblings.

If this goes through, it will be like a death to the Vaughn family.  They will never recover.  And a normal, happy, well-adjusted little boy will be messed up for life.  But hey, this guy will have his “rights” vindicated.  Goody.

May you always walk in sunshine.
May you never want for more.
May angels rest their wings right beside your door.

~Traditional Irish Blessing

I know it’s a little late for Mothers’ day, but let’s include all of May in the celebrations.  I got this prayer from dgreetings.com.

Gracious God,
We thank you for adopting us into your family through the miracle of
your grace, and for calling us to be brothers and sisters to each other.

Today, loving God, we pray for our mothers:

who cared for us when we were helpless who comforted us when we were hurt whose love and care we often took for granted whose children are being raised by others Today we pray for their children, also: those who are grieving the loss of their mother, those who never knew their biological mother those who have experienced the wonder of an adopted mother’s love the families separated by war or conflict. Lord, give them special blessings.

I found this article on e-How, of all places.   It’s actually pretty good.  If you know someone, a friend or family member, who will be adopting an older child, they suggest that you:

• Read up on older-child adoption
• Attend a training/preparation session with your friend/relative
• Refrain from sharing negative or disturbing stories you’ve heard
• Plan a shower for your friend’s new family
• Wait to be invited before visiting

I really like the idea of throwing a shower for a new family member.  If a child is coming out of foster care or from another country, they may have very few possessions of their own.  Plus, every household needs an amazing amount of stuff just to cope with its children.

I would have a hard time refraining from going to visit right away, though.  I know bonding time is important, but I’d want to burst in there and say, “I’M YOUR NEW AUNT AND I LOVE YOU!”  Or whatever the relationship was…

I got a letter in the mail today!  Apparently David’s first grade class wrote letters to their moms for Mother’s Day, and mine came today.  To tell the truth David seemed a little miffed at me when I told him that I got it (“Couldn’t you have waited until Mother’s Day?”).  But it was sweet and wonderful and I loved it.

Dear Mom,

I love you.  I like it wyn she walks home with us.  I like it wyn she take us with her and she helps us and she plays whith us and she raeds to us and she loves us.  Happy mothers day.

Michael Bay

American Film Director and Producer, Michael Benjamin Bay, was born in Los Angeles, California on February 17, 1965. When he was a small baby he was adopted by Jim and Harriet Bay. His adoptive father was an accountant and his adoptive mother was a bookstore owner/ child psychiatrist. It has not been proven, but it is believed that John Frankenheimer, famous director, is to be Bay’s biological father. Frankenheimer denies this, but does admit to knowing Bay’s biological mother. Bay did meet his birth mother when he was 20.

Bay went to a very exclusive private school in Santa Monica, California, where many famous and wealthy children have gone. He was grounded at a young age after blowing up a train with firecrackers and filming the whole process.

In college, Bay majored in English and Film and in 1986, he graduated from Wesleyan University. He was a member of Psi Upsilon fraternity.  After graduating from Wesleyan, he worked on his graduate studies in film at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, California.

Bay is co-owner of two businesses in the film industry. The first one is the special effects house, Digital Domain, and a production house that primarily does horror films, Platinum Dunes. The Institute of Enhanced Perpetual Awareness, a commercial production house, was founded by Bay.

Thanks to Michael Bay and his interest in high-action adventure and horror films, we have movies today, such as, Friday the 13^th, Transformers, and Armageddon.

“He’s just perfect, I can’t even describe him any other way.”

–Sandra Bullock, speaking of her son, Louis