carina
The Problem With Adopted Kids
So here is what happened after church. We went downstairs for coffee and donuts, as we do most Sundays when Lute is mostly well behaved during the service. (Yeah, we bribe our children, and sometimes it works.) The boys were running around, playing with their friends, dancing onstage, chasing each other, and stopping for brief moments to stuff their faces with maple bars. Eddie asked for water, so I lifted him to the water fountain, where he managed to ingest about three teaspoons from the 12 gallons that hit his face.
As I started to carry him back to where the action was, an older gentleman stopped me and asked, “Is he your foster child?”
“Oh no, we adopted him as a newborn, he’s mine,” I replied happily.
“It looks like he needs a lot of guidance, doesn’t he?”
Well, yeah dude, he’s TWO.
I was a little more diplomatic than that, but a bit of the mama bear started to well up within me.
Why is there such a stigma attached to adopted children? Here is my thought: they are kids. A kid is a kid. Now I am not saying that there aren’t real issues for children that stem from adoption. I’m sure there are. But I am just as sure that every child has some issue of some kind… because they are human. They are going through life. And life isn’t fair, and we all have to deal with that at some point in some way, and we usually feel pretty disillusioned and victimized.
Before we brought Eddie home, several people asked us if we knew if he was exposed to anything harmful (valid question) or if we were worried that he would have predispositions that we weren’t prepared for. I am not sure I am prepared for any of the things any of my children are predisposed to. You should see George when we cut off the cookies.
If anything, it’s been the opposite of the common misconceptions. If you were to spend a good amount of time with my three children (does anyone want to, by the way?), you might notice that Lute and George have a little bit of a woeful nature. Sometimes a lot of a woeful nature, actually. Eddie, on the other hand, is probably the most joyful kid I have ever encountered. He might get a little frustrated from time to time, but he is usually having a grand time doing whatever it is he is doing. And yes, he is a handful, but that is because he is a boy through and through. (I think they are calling that “spirited” these days, right? Wanna be PC.)
So here are a few statistics that I hope help eradicate some of the ideas floating around about adoption:
85% of adopted children are rated in “excellent” or “very good” health.
The national average for non-adopted kids is 82%.
over 90% of adopted children have positive feelings about being adopted.
88% of adoptive parents describe themselves as a “happy couple”.
Non-adoptive parents: 83%.
The New York Times did an interesting article awhile back that addressed this issue. I know I have a tendency toward the Pollyanna side of life, and I can gloss things over from time to time, but in my heart of hearts, I really believe that a change needs to come about in the attitude toward adoption.
In my experience as a parent with three little boys very close in age, no kid is easy, but every kid is a blessing.
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Carina
We are a family of 5 3/4: 3 kids – 2 biological, 1 adopted, and waiting to bring a little girl home soon. Adoption has always been on our hearts, hopeful that it’d be part of our story. We’re so blessed to say that it is, and has changed us forever. We love our three boys more than we’d imagined possible and can’t wait to bring home our sweet little peach! We welcome you to join us on our journey at lovely little whimsy.
He’s Mine
When we brought Eddie home, I wasn’t sure what it would be like. I loved him, that was sure, but I questioned if our bond would be like the one I had with Lute. I thought about him as our “adopted son” every single day. Many times. Add into that the fact that I was half way through my pregnancy with George, and I was not only thinking about my connection with him, but with the other baby soon joining us.
In the four and a half months between Eddie and George’s birth, I poured myself into him. And then when George came, Nick took over almost entirely. He was Nick’s boy and their bond grew quickly and deeply as I adjusted to becoming a mother of three, trying to find a balance between all my boys, while mostly being pulled to the newborn that depended on me for his every need. I loved Eddie, snuggled him and fed him, but I still thought of him as the adopted boy. I thought of his birthmother all the time and wondered what how often she thought of us. Of her son.
When Eddie and George became mobile, that’s when things got hard. Here I was with two toddler boys and a preschooler and I was always tired, exasperated, unsure of how to handle them, keep them safe… I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t imagine my life without any of my boys, but I also wondered if we were a little crazy with our spacing. I was wondering less frequently about his birthmother, started to fall into a more natural routine, and my bond with Eddie came together in invisible ways that cemented us together.
Eddie was always Dada’s boy. He followed Nick everywhere, did everything with him, and I knew it was because of their early bond. But then something shifted. It only happened a few months ago, but Eddie suddenly was a mama’s boy through and through. Where I was, he wanted to be. When he woke up in the morning, he wasn’t satisfied to have his milk with his daddy and go back to bed… he had to have a snuggle with Mama first. He wants to know where I am at all times, is content to play near me while I make dinner, and doesn’t want me to leave him anywhere. It is mostly heart burstingly lovely and just occasionally a little inconvenient.
When I hold him, read to him, put him to bed, get him ready for the day, help him with his food, push him on his bike, brush his teeth, tie his shoes, correct him, protect him, console him, laugh with him, dance with him, hold his hand… he is mine. Completely and totally and in a way that makes my heart explode with love and gratitude for the crazy gift he is to me. To us. To our family. I don’t think “adopted” anymore. I mean, he is, obviously, but his heart is fused with mine now and forever. I hope it is always the same for him.
Is my bond with him the same as mine with Lute? No. And my bond with George isn’t either. My boys are vastly different. Each holds my heart in a different way, but completely and fully. I don’t think it has anything to do with being biological or adopted, but it’s just the way it is when you have more than one kid. You love them all differently but equally.
Words can’t express it. But I know that God designed our family the way that it is… and as I allow Him, he keeps giving my heart a greater capacity for love… for tenderness and joy and…cuteness. I am so grateful that this is my life.
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Carina
We are a family of 5 3/4: 3 kids – 2 biological, 1 adopted, and waiting to bring a little girl home in August. Adoption has always been on our hearts, hopeful that it’d be part of our story. We’re so blessed to say that it is, and has changed us forever. We love our three boys more than we’d imagined possible and can’t wait to bring home our sweet little peach! We welcome you to join us on our journey at a punk, a pumpkin and a peanut.
Check out the necklace fundraiser Carina is having to help bring their baby girl home!
Dear Eddie
oh my darlin’,
you seriously put me through the ringer today.
you made me question everything i thought i knew about parenting.
you are one determined boy, and i know that will serve you well later in life,
that you will accomplish great things because you do not give up.
like with the easter candy, for example.
by golly, you wanted that chocolate bunny, and that chocolate bunny you were gonna get.
you have this uncanny sense of hearing… you announce every passing motorcycle,
the arrival of every garbage and delivery truck, an airplane flying overhead.
none of it is by sight, all by sound.
and yet. i can tell you 412 times to come to me, to stop climbing or jumping or running
and it is as though i haven’t uttered a single syllable.
but in spite of all of your crazy antics,
you have an unfathomable capacity to love.
you want to snuggle every night before bed, and first thing every morning.
you nestle into “mama’s bed” (it’s daddy’s, too, just so you know), rest your head right next to mine and are quiet and still and content.
i look at you in wonder, my heart full and achy,
and very aware of this precious time.
i’m not ignorant to the fact that someday… maybe soon… you will understand you’re adopted.
there may be a day when you question if we’re as close as we’d be if i’d had you myself.
if i could, i would take all those questions away in a heartbeat.
i’d tell you that i can’t imagine loving anyone more than i love you,
that our lives would have a gaping hole without you in it,
that tears well and overflow at the thought of you ever experiencing any heartache
from the undeserved gift we’ve been given of calling you ours.
i look at you in those quiet moments and i drink it in.
your tender heart and your boundless love.
i pray almost every day that you will know in the depth of your being that you are more than we could’ve ever hoped for,
that you will be confident in our love for you, and even more,
in God’s love for you.
you are a most precious gift, my sweet, wild Eddie.
i hope you will know that in your heart every day, forever.
yours always,
mama
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Carina
We are a family of 5 1/2: 3 kids – 2 biological, 1 adopted, and waiting to be chosen for our next adopted baby. Adoption has always been on our hearts, hopeful that it’d be part of our story. We’re so blessed to say that it is, and has changed us forever. We love our three boys more than we’d imagined possible and can’t wait to see what is in store for the future! We welcome you to join us on our journey at a punk, a pumpkin and a peanut.
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