Tag Archives: Adoption Lessons

September 22, 2014

Fantasies Reconsidered

I’ve wanted to write a lot lately but couldn’t focus on just one topic, hence my recent series of lists. The lists have given me more extended time to just reflect on lots of emotions, lots of surprises and lots of hopes and dreams for Hope, for me and for us. This time has also lead to some harder reality checks that I think I want to share about adoption and my personal journey.

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Hope’s fantasy life does not include ever needing to meet me. Recently, Hope and I got to joking about what our fantasies were about life. She asked me lots of questions and some of my answers made her giggle by their level of outrageousness. I quickly turned the tables and asked her about her fantasy life. I just wasn’t thinking and we fell into a bit of a dark space.

Hope took a moment and told me that she wished her father was around and that they lived happily ever after. I wasn’t in the scenario. Why would I be? If the fantasy were true, even modestly, there was no need for my existence in her life. The moment she mentioned her father I knew I wasn’t a part of the fantasy; I even respected it. But I felt some kind of way about it. It hurt even if I didn’t admit it or show it.

We recovered easily, but it was a reminder to me that she might love me but life should’ve been different for her.

I’m guessing that dealing with the bio-family is the Holy Homeboy’s epic way of teaching me patience and grace. My tank is really almost always on E with some of these folks. I normally do not respond to what feels like their routine invasions. Truth be told it’s primarily one person who has a serious problem with boundaries who irks my nerves to high heaven. But every week folks seem to just turn up. If it’s not this one family member it’s someone else trying to friend me on Facebook. Hope has no idea that I play whackamole with her family on a regular basis, and I hope to keep it that way for a while. She really doesn’t have much for her bio-family in the way of words and her emotions carry waves of anger. So I click ok on the friend requests, put them on my containment list and move on to the next one.

I’m in limbo at my church and it’s causing me some angst. Seriously, there is no shortage of faith-based patience challenges around these parts. I’ve requested the opportunity to dedicate Hope to God as a part of my commitment to raise her in a home of believers—like a baby dedication. But clearly Hope is 13 so a baby dedication isn’t quite right, but this isn’t something that takes the place of a baptism. Hope will make her own decision about being baptized. There are lots of discussions to be had and a decision should come soon.

Who knew, right? Glad I wasn’t called to tie her up and toss her on top of an altar and hope for a ram.

But I’m still waiting for a ram. The desire to dedicate her is a strong unexplained desire that feels right. I guess we’ll see what the Holy Homeboy has in store here.

I’m wondering if anyone else feels weirdly calm in the midst of an anxiety swirl? I resume my fall travel schedule this week. Hope is kind of anxious and so am I. But we’re also really, really calm and low key about it. It’s weird. We talk about what’s scary about it. We’ve got great help with the nannies and family support. The schedule is on lock and we know what it supposed to happen. And so there’s a strong faith that we will be just fine. And that calm sits in the midst of a lot of other emotions about my need to travel. We are in a really different place than we were months ago. We’ve got a plan. We’ve done it before, and there were no epic disasters. So, we’ll be fine right? Yeah. We’ll be fine.

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So it’s time for another week of great adventures! In other news, if you want to follow my exploits or just engage me in semi-real time, I’ve finally set up a Facebook page: Adoptive Black Mom. I’ll hang out there, post some things and think about new lenses to apply to this journey with Hope.

3 Comments | tags: adoption, Adoption Lessons, Adoption Lessons Learned, Adoptive Single Moms, African American Adoption, African American Parenting, African American Single Adoptive Mom, Finalization Life, Lessons Learned | posted in Finalization Life, Lessons Learned

September 17, 2014

I Hope – Part 3

By AdoptiveBlackMom

I hope:

That the universe takes care of the kids who exploit Hope’s (and kids like Hope) vulnerabilities.
That we can continue filling the holes in her life.
That I can find more empathy in engaging Hope’s extended bio-family.
That I can get through some more parenting books, taking what I need, discarding what I think is dumb ish.
That relationships in my life which have been strained during this process are restored.
That my circle of adoption champions continues to grow.
That I concretely learn the difference between what Hope can really handle and what she’s just lazy about, ie what’s really trauma related vs. what’s just typical teen related crap.
That somehow we can reconcile the past, present and future.
That we continue to reflect on this journey.
That I can get my eyebrows done more often so that my brow lady doesn’t shame me and chastise me about my brow and pedicure related neglectfulness (Really, who gets shamed at the nail salon? Totally kinda bummed #TreatYoSelf night, smh Yeah, I’m bitter.).
That I do better at turning to exercise rather than food for stress management.
That I free myself from crazy parenting expectations.
That I feel freed from the perceived critical eyes that see me and Hope strangely because of all that’s going on beneath the surface of our lives.
That Hope excels in the percussion classes because I secretly (I guess not so secretly) have dreams of riding in the back of her tour bus during my retirement.
That one day I’ll go visit Cordoba, Spain to see this mosque that I saw in a picture during an art history class 20 years ago.
That I hug Hope more, touching heals.
That we are ready for me to resume my job’s travel requirements—we’ve got the reinforcements and next week kicks it off.
That God grants me more oodles of patience in navigating the black and white world view of the teenager.
That I continue to be able to meaningfully answer Hope’s questions about Ray and Janay Rice and Adrian Peterson, while holding it together as she reminisces about her life.
That Hope continues to learn that there’s a whole world out there for her to live, breathe and experience.

Leave a comment | tags: adoption, Adoption Blogs, Adoption Lessons, Adoption Lessons Learned, Adoption Surprises, African American Adoption, African American Parenting, African American Single Adoptive Mom | posted in Dealing with the Past, Finalization Life, Lessons Learned

September 16, 2014

I Hope – Part 2

By AdoptiveBlackMom

I hope:

That Hope is able to reconcile all of her different “Black folk” experiences that cut across race and culture into one cohesive racial identity with which she is comfortable.
That her distrust of institutional systems lessens.
That she continues to feel comfortable telling me things.
That I get the hang of this teenage parenting thing.
That Hope is able to really develop a mission and vision for her life.
That I’m able to live up to my mission and execute my vision for my life.
That she stops going through a bottle of shower gel every week.
That she remains excited about her natural hair and becomes excited about her cocoa brown skin.
That she knows that I don’t care who she comes to love as long as they treat her right—you know like 57 years from now.
That Amazon begins selling legitimate chastity belts (I kinda kid, but really don’t Google this…seriously, don’t do it…smh).
That I can continue to have frank honest conversations with her about sex, domestic and child abuse and other topics that I thought would make my head explode but didn’t.
That I can get the donated bike spiffed up so Hope can go for the bike ride she’s been begging me about for months.
That more brown faces end up on the posters on the walls—just a bit of diversity please and thank you.
That our church embraces my desire to dedicate her at 13—charting new territory here.
That Hope’s ongoing theological questions and interest in church activities seals her accompanying interest in baptism.
That we manage to keep Jay and Bey Crabber (yeah, the crabs are named after the Carters…) alive for a significant amount of time—so far so good.
That Hope continues to reach milestones missed during some chaotic years.

2 Comments | tags: adoption, Adoption Blogs, Adoption Lessons, Adoption Lessons Learned, Adoption Surprises, African American Adoption, African American Parenting, African American Single Adoptive Mom | posted in Dealing with the Past, Finalization Life, Lessons Learned

September 14, 2014

I Hope – Part 1

By AdoptiveBlackMom

I hope:

That the trauma monsters stop chasing us.
That Hope is freed from her fears of the past.
That we are freed from depression.
That our hot tempers cool with time.
That our patience grows.
That Hope grows up to be confident, self-assured and well adjusted.
That the next round of music lessons aren’t audibly painful.
That Hope grows to like some kind of physical activity.
That one day I won’t be shocked by all the movies that have adoption sub-themes.
That I will feel caught up with work, life and parenting one day.
That bio-aunt stops sending me chain emails…boundaries, people, boundaries. #icant #noreally #icant
I’ll get back to hitting happy hour with some some frequency in the next 5 years.
That I’ll be ready for another fur baby next year sometime.
That I can pull off a trip abroad next spring for us.
That one day I won’t have to ask if the bed has been made or the room has been tidied.
That one day she won’t be afraid of so many things.
That one day I’ll have a husband.
That I am able to model healthy relationships for Hope.
That her math skills will improve.
That we continue to have therapeutic breakthroughs.
That I won’t have to hide my favorite food forever.
That I find a spirit of sharing.
That my faith continues to grow.
That I can meet my first weight loss goal by year’s end.

7 Comments | tags: adoption, Adoption Blogs, Adoption Lessons, Adoption Lessons Learned, Adoption Surprises, African American Adoption, African American Parenting, African American Single Adoptive Mom | posted in Dealing with the Past, Finalization Life, Lessons Learned

September 14, 2014

I Marvel – Part 4

By AdoptiveBlackMom

I marvel:

That Hope talks all through the movies, asking me questions as though I know what is going to happen next.
At how many movies have adoption sub-themes.
At how easily she will talk about all that she’s lost.
At how hard it is for Hope to have a positive view of the world.
At how she has segregated people by race and behavior in ways that upset me.
At how she has parlayed what she’s seen in terms of relationships into some really effed up views on gender roles and behaviors.
At how deep grief goes.
That she eventually comes clean with all her shenanigans.
That we have deep moments where we really talk.
That I can tell when she’s got a new crush (so friggin obvious).
That we have the most amazing and hilarious girl talk moments.
That I’m getting better at problem solving.
That I finally did volume production of frozen crockpot meals (this development was overdue).
That now that a spate of anger has passed the more affordable eye glass frames at Costco look appealing to her.
That we’re *still* talking about the teen foolishness that went down last month (it’s really a crucible for us).
That she’s into a groove with the nannies.
At how joy and pain can still reside so closely.
At how much I miss The Furry One.
At how I’ve kept the new hermit crabs- Beyonce and Jay-Z Crabbers alive for almost 3 weeks.
At how I dropped a couple of pounds this week.
At how this squat challenge I’m doing isn’t so bad now that I’m halfway through it.
At the stuff I still need to get Hope to prep for the winter weather.
At how excited I am to prep for fall break and spring break next year.
At how excited I am to start planning our trip to Bougieville (Martha’s Vineyard) next summer.
At how a tiny bit of weekend rest can cure some of what ails you.

1 Comment | tags: adoption, Adoption Blogs, Adoption Lessons, Adoption Lessons Learned, Adoption Surprises, African American Adoption, African American Parenting, African American Single Adoptive Mom | posted in Dealing with the Past, Finalization Life, Lessons Learned

September 12, 2014

I Marvel – Part 3

By AdoptiveBlackMom

I marvel:

That I still sometimes take her anger personally.
That I haven’t duct taped the door to her room shut when it’s dirty.
When we cycle through dark periods; they always surprise me.
That Hope has embraced a sense of middle class kid entitlement so quickly <side eye>.
At how kind and generous she can be even as she pushes me away.
At how many triggers to rages and shut downs there are.
At how exhausted such episodes make me.
At how my reactions to the rages and shut downs have changed.
At how many times in one day I can say “I don’t know.”
That my reasons for saying “I don’t know “ range from not really knowing to praying the exhausting conversation ends soon.
At how hard single parenting can be.
That I appreciate the lack of need to consult on parental decision making.
That I can’t seem to get to bed before 11pm because I need to wind down a bit after Hope goes to bed.
At how all of a sudden Hope isn’t mad that I signed her up for drama activities during her free periods.
At how she has come to enjoy our church.
At how she is finally interested in going to the church youth group.
At how she wants to volunteer.
At how many food wrappers I recently found under her bed.
At how I still hide my special foods.
At how rough the transition from being a singleton to a single mom is.
At how different this experience is than I imagined.

September 11, 2014

I Marvel – Part 2

By AdoptiveBlackMom

I marvel:

That 13 years ago, today on 9/11, I know exactly where I was and what I was doing for an entire 24 hour period, but what was going on in Hope’s life at 3 months old is a complete mystery.
At how Hope has evolved from exclusively wearing jeans and tees to leggings, tunics and *gasp* the occasional dress.
That we both have heard The Furry One’s barks, nails clicking on the floor and have seen his shadow since he passed away. We only both admitted it and had a good cry this week. (Yep, we are believers!)
At how routines make drama lessen and even disappear.
At how not reacting to drama somestimes helps to lessen it.
That Hope loves Absurdly Hot Therapist now.
That my Hope is such a boss at surviving.
That Hope is more resilient than me.
At how fortunate we are to have locked in two great part time nannies. Both have day jobs as child therapists and one is pursuing a PhD in child psych with emphasis in PTSD. Can we say #jackpot?
That I don’t hear stories that start with, “When I was 8…” as much anymore; Hope is moving past her trauma.
That my new Fitbit says I am getting 100% sleep efficiency. Clearly the thing is a piece of crap…#notreally
At how my faith has grown this year.
At the dumb ish 13 year olds are want to do.
That I fell in love this year.

August 3, 2014

And We Survived

By AdoptiveBlackMom

In all my pre-trip fretting about a near week away from Hope, I did have some concerns for The Furry One, who was recently diagnosed with some serious brain issues. Turns out that Hope was fine, and The Furry One came completely unhinged. My poor, furry, first born was scared out of his mind (he’s also nearly blind and deaf) and no amount of sedatives seemed to knock him out for the count. He came home a shadow of himself, prompting our family vet to have an “end of life” conversation with me as we discussed whether he had what it takes to bounce back. At nearly 15, I’m not sure. I know we have entered the final chapter; I just don’t know how long that chapter will read. I’m nursing him this weekend, remembering all of our years together and teaching Hope the value of life and dignity and how we’re all worthy of kindness, compassion, love and snuggles. She’s also learning that when you’re old and sick you get just about anything you want—The Furry One noshed on a deboned pork chop last night and pizza crusts tonight..

Throughout this week, all kinds of things—good and challenging—have transpired. Here’s a list of things I learned without too much elaboration.

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How we behave with our early tween/teen crushes is right out of the Disney-Young and the Restless text book. The things I’ve heard come out of my daughter’s mouth this week are things that a Disney princess with a daytime TV habit would say. I think when we’re crushing we just emulate ish we’ve seen on TV. Gawd, I’m glad I’m grown and have my own script with my own words now.

Sleep is healing. The Furry One is currently sedated with some good stuff. He needs to heal and sleeping pretty much around the clock is essential to the bounce back. We all need more sleep and more rest. It’s healing. Find a way to get that rest. #TreatYoSelf #iwishicouldborrowhisdrugs

Despite needing more sleep, I will sacrifice sleep for cookies and wine. This is becoming a nightly ritual. On the last podcast I mentioned that I’d made cookie dough in anticipation of my return home from the recent business trip. I didn’t get my couple of days of “Me” time, but I’m having my nightly cookies and wine—even if I have to stay up later to do it. #TreatYoSelf

It’s true—have looser reigns at first and you’ll be able to tighten up the house rules later. I know firsthand that it’s hard to believe that not “laying down the law” with older adoptive kids will lead to all kinds of mayhem, but honestly the trust isn’t there to respect all the rules at first. Here we are 6 months in, and I’ve earned the right to have firm rules about stuff in our home. I can “lay down the law” with no issues these days. It works.

The presence of trust allows for healthy purging. We purged closets and drawers today. We did it on the fly and I told Hope the rules—1) you have 15 minutes to purge, 2) if you hesitate toss the item in a secondary pile and come back to it, but keep moving, 3) if there’s a strong emotional attachment it’s ok to keep it and revisit that attachment at the next purge session, 4) itemize, bag and donate immediately. She purged a bag of things—including things that she brought here. She was relieved not to be expected to get rid of things that held emotional connections. Hope enjoyed making room for school shopping and taking account of what she owns. She trusted me and the purging process. We actually had fun.

Hope’s self-esteem is on the come up! Yay! If you don’t read Mollytopia, you should—gosh she’s funny as all heck. This week, she wrote a post called, Make the Game Your Bitch, all about developing her and her daughter’s positive self-image. Well, I played the game with Hope today. I sucked, but Hope? Hope rattled off her three things she loved about her insides and outsides so quickly that I am jealous. It made me proud of her and how far she’s come. She still will claim that she’s “bad” at least once a week, but to know that she sees her body, mind and heart as lovingly as I do made me happy. Go Hope!

Have I mentioned that I’m happy? No really; I know it all isn’t over but I believe the worst, the roughest part of our journey is over. We’ve survived!

Grown up time is essential. I missed Hope and The Furry One while I was away last week, but keeping my own schedule was priceless. I actually took time to put on the good make up and do my hair in more than a puff, piled on top of my head (which is becoming my summer of 2014 standard—I’m lazy, what can I say?). I even wore a couple of new dresses. I worked my fanny off, but I also took time to skip a few receptions, order room service, and cool my heels taking care of me-ABM the grown up, not just ABM the mom. Good stuff. #TreatYoSelf

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There’s more, but right now, I’m going to sip on this tempranillo and these cookies and finish watching Law and Order: Criminal Intent before I scoop up The [passed out] Furry One and take him to my room so I can watch him sleep.

4 Comments | tags: #TreatYoSelf, Add Water & Stir Podcast, adoption, Adoption Lessons, Adoption Lessons Learned, Adoption Stories, African American Adoption, African American Parenting, Parenting Lessons | posted in Lessons Learned

June 26, 2014

Milestones and Lessons

By AdoptiveBlackMom

I think I might be milestoned out. I’m tired of all the celebrations and am ready to get on with life. But alas, it’s summer and there are lots of fun times planned. And all of the activities are like milestones for Hope because the summer is full of new experiences.

I should’ve given more thought to this; I might be overstimulated. Not that I’m not enjoying watching Hope’s face light up and all the cake (ABM LOVES cake), it’s just that we’ve crammed a lot of lifetime highlights into the last couple of months. I suppose this is another lesson learned, speaking of which here’s my latest revelations.

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Hope is growing. I mean, like, Hope is on her way to being a total glamazon. She’s been through two dramatic growth spurts since January. She’s nearly grown out of the most recently purchased clothes. Now she’s healthy and her diet is pretty good—she’ll eat fruits and veggies but she wants junk food like any kid her age. She gets fast food twice a week—once midweek and once on the weekend.

I recently read up on how once really stabilized former foster kids can go through rapid growth; the previous emotional trauma often results in some stunted growth and development. I knew this was true emotionally, but I didn’t count on it physically with Hope. At 12 she was already 5’5’! Who would’ve thought there was stunted physical growth somewhere in a kid that tall at that age?

Called up the family physician who said, yeah, basically, he’s seen it many times during his 30+ years of practice; all kinds of wackery with the endocrine system.

Ok, so I’m not crazy for needing to take Hope shopping so frequently. I used to love shopping, but shopping with a tween is not all that amusing. But it’s a necessary evil; she’s literally growing up out of her clothes.

Sadness still chases joy. I wrote a bit about this earlier this week; Hope often remembers sad things when good things happen. It makes for a weird juxtaposition, and I suspect that it may also be why I’m over all the milestones. They just aren’t exclusively celebrations; they always have a drama chaser.

Birthday concert tickets trigger memories of broken promises.
Finalization feels like both the end of life and beginning of life.
Going on a plane ride to a fun destination is marred with the anxiety of that ONE time she had an ear infection and
Being proud of her adoption means exposing herself to ridicule about her biological parents.
During the “Best Night Ever” (aka the Katy Perry concert), there’s a short crying spell about feeling guilty about being adopted and why couldn’t her bio family take care of her like this.

I get the ying and yang of life, but dang, I wish the “balance” of emotions would just give Hope a break and just let her be happy and just be happy for a nice long stretch.

Same race adoption has certain privileges, but those privileges can cut too. It’s really awesome to never have to answer questions like, “Is she adopted?” by perfect strangers. There is a nice privilege associated with same race adoption; though I still don’t think we look anything alike despite the protests of many friends.

The sticky wicket is that the innocuous nosey questions asked while folks are making small talk trigger anxiety. A lovely couple in seats next to ours at the concert chatted us up. They were lovely really, but when they asked if Hope had any siblings and were they jealous that I took her to something so special, I could see the panic in her eyes. She didn’t want to lie, but it was just so complicated knowing there are other bio siblings out there somewhere. I saw a whole sordid history in her eyes and the delightful ease with which we were recognized as mom and daughter got tripped up by the lack of biology. I quickly replied, “It’s just the two of us!” I saw her visibly relax, after pulling out the silly putty she uses to cope with anxiety.

As we sat quietly during an intermission, I realized that it isn’t the big adoption questions that cause is a bit of angst; it’s the ones that don’t question our biology at all that test us. We both have our lives before one another; I choose to follow her lead in disclosing, though my acquaintances and colleagues obviously realize that I didn’t have a tween/teen a year ago and now I do. Hope loved her dad and struggles with how to weave these two chunks of her life together. It’s the little questions that she wrestles with.

I realized that these little questions trip me up as well. I struggle with my own identity. I love being “mom,” but honestly I have my own feelings about the invisibility of our adoption because of race and what that means for my identity as a single Black mom. I find that I easily slip off those feelings in order to reduce her discomfort, and that’s how the sacrifice should be. But I do feel some kind of way about it.

In those moments I realize that Hope and I talk with our eyes; we know our secret and we navigate this life together.

I’m a little overwhelmed by the next bunch of paperwork. I’ve got the final decree and birth certificate in hand. Now, to change Hope’s name all over North America. I’m overwhelmed by the visits to Social Security, the phone calls and the forms. I’m tired of forms. Just when you think you’re done, you get a piece of mail that reminds you that you’re not. I pledge to finish all the name change stuff post vacation.

The goal of increasing my patience levels is a work in progress. There are really days when I wonder how the devil did I end up here. I am terribly impatient. I like things now and on my terms. I don’t like to be questioned, and I loathe being reliant on other people’s schedule. I do. I really do. So, when Hope says she can be ready in 20 minutes and I know it takes her no less than 90 minutes to get ready to go anywhere, I’m annoyed. When Hope asks a litany of questions about why the sky is blue like a 5 year old, I hate admitting it, but I’m annoyed.

I’ve gotten better at being patient when it counts—when she’s upset, when she’s sad, when she just needs things diffused. I’m still working on being patient when she freaks out over the bug phobia or when she is complaining about her latest attention grabbing ailment or when she wants to sit with me on the couch and actually sits on me on the couch. I just don’t do that well with those things.

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So, there you go. Next up, the Disney vacation. Yay. Have I mentioned that I hate Orlando? No? Oh, yeah, I kinda hate Orlando, but it’s all good. I am looking forward to seeing Hope’s delight in going to Disneyworld. I am not looking forward to the first time she sees palmetto bugs…#jesusbeavatofdeet

Oh, Hope lasted about 18 hours on the hugs and kisses strike. Ha!

Leave a comment | tags: adoption, Adoption Blogs, Adoption Lessons, Adoption Lessons Learned, Adoption Stories, African American Adoption, African American Single Adoptive Mom, Finalization Life | posted in Finalization Life, Lessons Learned

May 25, 2014

Big Holes to Fill

By AdoptiveBlackMom

I had a lot going on this week; much of it left me exhausted and cranky. Despite my bad attitude, I really, really tried to practice better “therapeutic” parenting. It’s paying off, even if sometimes things just seem weird. So, here’s the highlight reel.

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The mask is finally coming off. Four months in, Hope’s mask is finally coming off. I hate to say her behavior is regressing, because in truth, it’s not. A few weeks ago, in the middle of a conversation about something she dropped some baby talk on me. Yeah, baby talk, like goo goo gaga kind of stuff.

Huh?

Say what now?

Whatchu talkin’ ’bout Hope?

I just kept talking and she just kept babbling, and I tried to just pretend it was no big deal. And she did it for the rest of the conversation, and I nearly came unhinged on the inside. What in the holy hell is this???

Since then, she’s tried to climb into my lap several times. Now, you need to know that I’ve got body space issues. #getoffmegetoffmegetoffme I need a buffer. I love hugs and stuff, love them, love them, but um, on my terms. Sitting on me is not on my term list, but I’ve tried to be comfortably uncomfortable for now. Then there’s the bedtime stories, which is actually a lovely ritual. And then this week, she asked could she do some arts and crafts with macaroni, glitter, construction paper and glue.

Seriously, all I could think was, “There is going to be effing glitter ALL. Over. My. House.” I have no poker face and Hope knows it.

Um…glitter? #icant

She looked sad and I was all like, “But wait…I was just thinking…um, sounds like an awesome idea (#fauxenthusiasm)!!!”

With each of these things Hope always includes her rationale for wanting to do it: “I never got a chance to do this when I was little.” It’s actually really sad. She needs these memories and developmental markers to move forward. That’s the best motivation I could possibly think of for tolerating glitter in my house.

It does require some kicking around in my brain. Years ago, when I was thinking about what my adoption life would be like, I envisioned a 5 or 6 year old kid in the house. As I went through the process, I realized that in order to actually get a 5 or 6 year old I would probably need to foster or wait years and years and years. Fostering was too emotionally risky for me and years and years, well, I don’t have that kind of patience. I made a very conscious decision to adopt an older child and along with that my whole vision changed about what I thought would be going on in my house. I never dreamed that macaroni and glitter artwork would be a thing that would happen.

I’m guessing you should all place your orders now for kindergarten style glue ornaments…you *know* you want one. Don’t be jelly when my crafty ornament covered Christmas tree is better than yours, all courtesy of Hope’s Crafting Bonanza.

But seriously, all of this stuff is good news, she feels safe. She knows I’m going to help her fill in the gaps; that I’m going to help her create childhood memories that she has a right to have and to still want. I’ll try to be mindful of that every time she tries to crawl into my lap. It’s like cradling a granddaddy long legs. Love her.

I am searching for information about Hope’s bio parents. Now this is a sticky issue. I really have zero interest in these folks, but Hope is an older adoptee and as much as she’s wrestling with healing and filling the gaps that her bio parents left neglected, I also see her tossing things around in her head about who she is and where she came from. There are also things to which she is entitled that I’m intent on trying my best to make right. Things like knowing where her father rests and having the flag she’s due from the VA is important to her. She grieves deeply over the losses that lie within the loss. I can’t make everything right and I don’t think she’s ready for the info right this moment, but I want it for her.

I’m fortunate to have a friend and colleague who does extensive genealogy research. In short order she’s found lots of info—some of it not good, but valuable nonetheless. I’m grateful for my friend and her efforts to help me just get some info. I’ll print it, put it in an envelope and put it away. I have no idea when the time will be right, and I have no idea how that conversation will go. But my gut tells me that getting and saving this info for her to have if she wants will be important at some point.

I’ve come to think about bio parents a lot. I am on several online support sites and most focus on relationships with bio families who have selected families to adopt. These stories are so different from those of us who go the route of foster-to-adopt or in my case focusing my search on children who were already legally free to be adopted. Hope has lived a lifetime already. She had a life that she remembers—the good, the bad, the ugly—before me. That life is real and includes real people who she remembers, people she wonders whatever happened to them. I just want to be able to hand over some things if Hope’s curiosity ever blooms into something more. And I’ll be there for whatever comes after that, because I’m certain something will come after that.

I wish my curfew was later. So in my 20s I stayed out all night on the regular. Leave the club at 3, in the office by 8. In my 30s, I hit the club less and less. Leaving the club at 3 could only happen on a Friday because I needed the weekend to recover and I only had two cocktails. I eventually just fell madly in love with my couch, my bed and one of those backrest things. By the time I turned 40, my regular curfew entailed figuring out how fast I could get home from work and into my PJs—my goal is usually about 6:30 since I have to include time to walk The Furry One. I felt like I earned a gold star if I could find an episode of Law and Order and grab dinner by that 6:30 goal line.

Now I’m almost always home or Hope is always with me. On school nights we need to be home by 8:30 so I can get Hope to bed on time. The weekends are a little more flexible, but Hope’s phobia of bugs is worse at night and she hates being out with all the moths (really this is a thing) such that staying out really can be a miserable endeavor. Respite care allows me that that time out, but I try to be back at bedtime. I’m just getting hype, and it’s time to head home at 10:30 so I make it on time.

Just when it’s time to turn up, I’ve got head home and miss the Soul Train dance line. Mess….

Suddenly I have all the energy in the world, and I really want to be out late. Sigh, but I can’t stay out later yet. Hope just isn’t ready and we haven’t found the right sitter. We have a couple we like, but we just haven’t found “the one” yet.

There’s something ironic about the fact that less than a year ago I knew I could go out if I wanted to but preferred to stay home on the couch, and now I have limited opportunities to go out and I want to be out all night. Those are the brakes of parenthood.

I am happy. Sometimes it is so, so hard to be mindful of what’s going right in life. It’s easy to just get mired in how hard it is; I mean really, just look at the first sentence here—I’m whining about it being hard to be mindful. Ugh!

But seriously, I was talking to a good friend this week. Several of my closest friends are going through mayhem of their own; but this friend said to me a couple of days ago that in spite of whatever mess exists, she’s happy. Well, it was such a lovely statement. I was so happy for her. I was so proud of her. It was just such great thing to hear from my friend about her life and about her outlook.

A few hours later I was thinking about this conversation while walking The Furry One. I was thinking about my current state of affairs. Was I…Am I happy? I don’t mean like really right this moment, but rather from that 30,000 viewpoint?

Yeah. I am.

Happy doesn’t always come the way you think it does and it doesn’t always have a silver lining. It might come with several side dishes of crazy, frustration and “you’ve got to be kidding me…”

But yeah, I’m happy. I have the family I wanted, even if it’s not the way I thought it would be constructed. I have a kid that I love, even if we’ve got issues. I’ve got a dog who has been a beloved companion for many years. I have family whom I love and who love and support me in ways that actually build me up. I have accomplished many of my life goals at a relatively young age. I have a great career that I love and which feeds me intellectually and creatively. I have friends who have been with me through thick, thin, cray, sane, poverty and comfort and so much more. I love and I am loved. Yes, I’m happy.

It’s nice to take a breath and just be mindful enough to see the happy.

________________________________________________________

So we’re brunching and traveling today. It’s a beautiful East Coast day and tomorrow I’ll take Hope to see the bikers in Rolling Thunder. It’s a real sight to see and noisy as all get out; I think she’ll get a kick out of it, and it will be a great opportunity to see some DC monuments on Memorial Day.

Be blessed.

10 Comments | tags: adoption, Adoption and Emotions, Adoption Lessons, Adoption Lessons Learned, African American Adoption, African American Parenting, African American Single Adoptive Mom, Post-Placement Life | posted in Lessons Learned, Post Placement

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