The baby swan was perceived as an outsider and, therefore, believed he was ugly.  He didn’t realize he was a beautiful swan until he was an adult, but he had already suffered so much.

The story of The Ugly Duckling is about how a creature feels when he is not connected to his birth heritage or culture.  It’s a story about a swan in search of his place and his identity.

Upon reading this story to my children, I took away a deeper message as an adoptive parent. The story of the ugly duckling is similar to adoption and what needs to happen within the adoptive family.

I have found that one of the biggest challenges as an adoptive parent, especially as a parent to internationally and transracially adopted children, is that I cannot address all of their needs, specifically the desire to know and understand their birth culture first-hand.

Like the ugly duckling, each of my children is in search of self, their identity. I can teach my kids about being the duck—sharing my history and heritage, what it is to be part of our family and what it means to be an American. And I can share our values and beliefs with them.

I can’t teach them what it means to be a swan, because I’m a duck. Heritage and culture are lived. But I can offer the opportunities to become as familiar and embrace their birth cultures.  What I can do is guide and support each child as they work towards discovering and creating their identities.

While my children search for themselves, it is imperative that they do not feel like an outsider, but feel that they belong, that they matter to us and to each other. We make a point of claiming them at every opportunity. Each of my children understands that they hold a special and unique place within our family and are deeply loved.

How my kids feel, what they think about adoption, their races, ethnicities, and birth cultures is important to me. They know that they have my and their dad’s full support to explore, discover, and embrace their birth cultures. It is my hope that my children will continue to be happy and grow into confident and well-adjusted adults.

Photo by Peace Correspondent

Judy writes essays and articles for adoption and parenting magazines. Her stories are included in A Cup of Comfort for Adoptive Families: Stories That Celebrate a Special Gift of Love (Adams Media), Pieces of Me: Who Do I Want to Be? (EMK Press) and Chicken Soup for the Soul: Thanks Mom (Chicken Soup for the Soul). Judy presented for “Finding Our Stories Online” at the Stories from the Heart conference in Austin, Texas and is an adoption educator. You can find out more about and register for her classes Parenting Your Adopted Child: Tweens, Teens & Beyond.

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We have been allowed into the welfare institute with cameras and camcorders. The director has left and we have been given permission to take pictures and tape discreetly. We look, wander, touch, and take in the essence of this sterile environment five stories above the concrete paved lot, just outside and under the small iron balcony that holds a wire contraption that resembles a complicated antenna. The contraption has cloth rags of diapers and permanently discolored baby clothing hanging from it, slowly drying in the humid south China autumn. We are in the nursery where my daughter spent the first year of her life. I stand next to the crib that she shared with another, bundled under quilts, padded jackets, and pants, out of the sunshine and other elements.  

I break off from the group and wander down the wide hall and peek into a room. A TV is turned up high. Children with birth defects and disabilities fill the room. Some are playing games. Others rock or move repetitively; some lie around without any kind of stimulation or contact. Some stare at the walls and then there are those that just stare at each other or nowhere, without seeing. Young children, several around the age of my eight year-old son, appear to be watching over these children. A door opens behind me on the other side of the hall and a girl with a stunted leg and arm shuffles towards me, determined to get where she is going. I feel caught because I’m witnessing something I’m sure I shouldn’t. The girl disappears into another room and shuts the door. I don’t see any additional staff.

My husband is at my elbow ready escort me downstairs with the rest of the group. We arrive in a baby filled playroom with a puzzle-pieced primary-colored rubber mat that covers almost the entire floor. The mat looks familiar and I realize why; my daughter’s referral pictures were taken here. I walk a few steps and see the plastic pink pony that she sat on in one of the pictures. It is dirty, old, cracked.

I look around for my husband and then stop. The girl I saw upstairs comes into the playroom and sees me, but doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead she quickly looks away, bending down to take a baby who has held its hands up in the global language of “pick me up.” She smiles and rocks the baby and I can see that she is a well-seasoned rocker. It is impossible to determine the sex of the babies because they have on combinations of boys and girls clothes, however we are in China and I assume that the majority of these little ones are girls with shaved heads.

Did this young girl hold my daughter and rock her? Did she coo and sing to her and share exciting folktales of dragons and monkeys?  I think so because my daughter is watching her and smiles. I catch the young girl’s eye and smile. She looks away.

Our Chinese facilitator tells us that the young girl is an orphan like the other girl in the room, who I hadn’t noticed because she is even older. I thought she was one of the regular caretakers. This young girl was never adopted. The welfare institute kept her on because she was good with the younger children. She will remain with them for the rest of her life, caring for others. The facilitator tells me she is fortunate because she has shelter, food, and a basic education. Many of the older orphans have to leave. And when I ask where, he just shakes his head.

I turn away from him and pull my precious baby deeper into my arms, safe, loved, going home. I ache a mother’s pain. I think of my older daughter, safe, loved, and at home and the tears come. I look over and I see my husband hugging himself in the corner, tears coursing down his cheeks. I walk over to him and we put our foreheads together, needing to connect in our anguish and for strength. He strokes our daughter’s sweet face and kisses her. After I have calmed down I look up and around the room. I see my daughter’s face on the young girl and I see my older daughter’s face on the older girl’s face.

I struggle up from the dream gasping for air. Too real. Too close. I run down to my daughters’ room. They sleep every which-way in their bunks. One is snoring. The other is cuddled up with the cats. My heart begins to quiet and I am overcome with tears. They are home, safe and loved beyond measure. But those, the not adopted, what of them?  

Judy writes essays and articles for adoption and parenting magazines. Her stories are included in A Cup of Comfort for Adoptive Families: Stories That Celebrate a Special Gift of Love (Adams Media), Pieces of Me: Who Do I Want to Be? (EMK Press) and Chicken Soup for the Soul: Thanks Mom (Chicken Soup for the Soul). Judy presented for “Finding Our Stories Online” at the Stories from the Heart conference in Austin, Texas, and is an adoption educator. You can find out more about and register for her classes Parenting Your Adopted Child: Tweens, Teens & Beyond.

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I was ten years younger, void of gray hair, had wrinkles (although not so deeply embedded), and more than ten pounds lighter. I was a white woman married to a white man. Mother to an active inquisitive son (biological) and a daughter who quietly absorbed her new world (adopted from China). I was…less “seasoned.”

Ten years brought about many changes and greater diversity within my family. I am still married to that same marvelous man and mom to four kids, one biological and three who were adopted, from China and Guatemala. We are multiracial. We are multi-ethnic. We are multi-cultural, in that wrapped up kind of way we have of doing it in America, embracing other cultures along with those that are ours. We also embrace adoption, choice, differences, and life.

By adopting internationally and transracially, I stepped into the role of advocacy, forever. About adoption and the choices I made in my decision to adopt—transracial instead of same-race, international instead of domestic, boy versus girl and girl versus boy (I am mom to two of each sex).

By adopting internationally and transracially, I chose to focus on the strengths of an interracial family created through marriage, biology and adoption by:

• Preserving the richness of our composite traditions, customs and cultures
• Encouraging my children to claim their birth and adopted heritages
• Teaching my kids about diversity by instilling a tough-minded acceptance that the world is a racist world, they are stereotyped because of their race, and that our family is one of many that is evidence that races can coexist, with understanding, respect and love
• Educating them about adoption perceptions, that it is typically stigmatized, seen as “second best”
• Encouraging an openness, respect and understanding for others
• Helping my kids understand that biology has little to do with us being a family

Ten years ago I didn’t fully realize what advocacy meant. I do now. And I want to be heard:

• For my children
• For my family
• For other adoptive families
• For parents who have adopted transracially and domestically
• For parents who have adopted internationally
• For those considering adoption or are waiting for their child(ren) to join them
• For myself

I wonder what the next ten years will hold…

Judy lives in the Midwest with her husband and four children. She writes essays and articles for adoption and parenting magazines. Her stories are included in A Cup of Comfort for Adoptive Families: Stories That Celebrate a Special Gift of Love (Adams Media), Pieces of Me: Who Do I Want to Be? (EMK Press) and Chicken Soup for the Soul: Thanks Mom (Chicken Soup for the Soul). Judy was a presenter for “Finding Our Stories Online” at Story Circle Network’s Stories from the Heart conference.  She blogs at The International Mom and is an adoption educator. You can find out more about and register for classes Parenting Your Adopted Child: Tweens, Teens & Beyond.

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Along Came You by Karona Drummond and illustrated by Estelle Corke (Zonderkidz, April 2009) 32 pages, hardcover

“Before you, my home was decorated in style. After you, my home is decorated in love.”

“Before you, I liked to watch the rain. After you, I like to dance in the rain.”

“Before you, my world was quiet. After you, there is joyful noise.”

And so it goes. A parent lovingly recites how her world has changed, becoming richer and fuller since the arrival of her child. Along Came You is brightly illustrated with wonderful images of the mother-daughter relationship. Together, Karona Drummond and Estelle Corke have tenderly and joyfully captured some of the life changes that come with motherhood.

The themes of wonder, love, and joy resonate throughout. Drummond contrasts the before and after without being negative. Your child will find the simple language, repetitive structure, and the whimsical and playful illustrations engaging. This is a picture book that is sure to be worn out from being read.

Along Came You is a delightful picture book. The recommended ages for this book are 3-5, although my seven and nine year-olds read it and loved the timeless message of love and the colorful illustrations.

Judy’s essays and articles have appeared in parenting magazines. Her story, ”Souls Speak”,  is featured in A Cup of Comfort for Adoptive Families: Stories That Celebrate a Special Gift of Love. “Healing the Roots of Our Grafted Tree” is featured in the upcoming Pieces of Me: Who Do I Want to Be? (EMK Press, September, 2009). She blogs at The International Mom’s Blog.

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After talking to other adoptive parents, many have shared that they felt similar to how I was feeling—under fire. For those of us who parent transracially, we feel even more so because we are conspicuous by the very composition of our family members. We are noticed and noted.

I asked myself if I am held to a higher standard because I have adopted. Unequivocally, I’d say yes. That higher standard began when I entered the adoption process. In order to prove my worthiness to parent, I was (each time):

• subjected to police clearances at the local, state and federal levels,
• finger printed,
• checked against the national sex registry,
• tested for drugs and diseases,
• required to undergo mental and physical health evaluations,
• required to write a thesis about myself, family and why I wanted to parent,
• visited by a social worker who deemed my home and family situation satisfactory for raising a child,
• expected to prove that I was financially responsible, and
• asked to provide character references.

I might have forgotten something. (I adopted before The Hague was in place.) My point is this. Adults who wish to adopt typically do so with good intentions. They realize they are going to be vetted out the ying-yang. They undertake the responsibility of parenting very seriously. Although they arrived at adoption via loss and oftentimes feel a sacred bond, they aren’t “saving children,” “buying children,” or feeding  the “baby market.”  They want to be parents and there are children who don’t have parents or families.

Judy lives in the Midwest with her husband and four children. She writes essays and articles for adoption and parenting magazines. Her stories are included in A Cup of Comfort for Adoptive Families: Stories That Celebrate a Special Gift of Love (Adams Media), Pieces of Me: Who Do I Want to Be? (EMK Press) and Chicken Soup for the Soul: Thanks Mom (Chicken Soup for the Soul). Judy blogs at The International Mom and is an adoption educator. You can find out more about her classes for parents at Parenting Your Adopted Child: Tweens, Teens & Beyond.

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I first met Marcie last summer when she (and her husband Eric) opened their lovely home to some of us crazy contributors. We had a blast and spent one fun-filled evening making jewelry in her kitchen while we discussed a myriad of topics related to adoption, adoptive parenting and special needs.

Marcie’s creative vision has brought together an eclectic, opinionated, and respectful group of writers. She is the mom of two adorable and amazing little men—AJ and Gus—and works tirelessly in the trenches, making sure we all do our “due diligence.”

So without further adieu, I invite you to get to know Marcie a bit better…

Why adoption? Honestly? Because we could not have biological children. I am the stereotypical adoptive parent who, after infertility, turned to adoption to build our family. Would it have been our first choice when we started a family? No. Do I still yearn for a biological child? Sure. I would still love, absolutely love, to feel a baby inside me, make a child with my husband, and to know what a birth is like. But, do I love MY children any less because of how they came to our family? Never.

What has becoming an adoptive mom taught you about yourself? I have learned that I like control, order, peace, quiet days, solitude, and above all else, sleep. With kids in general you just don’t get that. When you adopt a child at one or two a parent is slammed right into chaos. There is no down time with a two year old like there might be with a newborn (at least there weren’t with mine). I’ve had to let go of myself a lot so that my kids can be kids. It’s hard for me some days to get down on the floor and play because it’s just not who I am. But, I love splashing in the pool, playing peek-a-boo on the stairs and showing them the glory of nature.

What has being a mom to a special needs child taught you about yourself? On some days, that I have miles to go.

What wisdom can you share with other parents of special needs children or parents considering adopting a special needs child? In my opinion, every adoption is, in some way, a special needs adoption. Every child who is adopted carries with them their own set of special needs that are entirely different than a biological child’s needs. My oldest son has very unique medical and neurological needs, but my younger son tends to have some attachment needs that are specific to adoption and the way he was raised his first year. Everyone who chooses to adopt a special needs child NEEDS to be ready for the best and the worst. Every child has good days and bad days, but ultimately a child can overcome the odds with YOUR help. You have to be the one to help them because they can’t do it on their own.

Why did you feel compelled to create Grown in My Heart? What did you seek to accomplish with the site? What have you discovered in having this online network? I used to writer about adoption at My Two Boys and then A Child Chosen for b5media. When b5 closed I still needed an outlet. This time I really wanted to create something that was not only mine but also a network. I wanted a group of writers to write about adoption and be able to teach families the adoption truths…to help reform adoption, to help.

I’ve discovered that everyone is very spirited about their opinions and I’ve learned so much more about how my boys will feel as they grow up.

What do you like to do in your “down time?” Down time?

What is your favorite food? Chocolate and peanut butter, fresh crab or lobster, and anything I don’t have to make. I don’t really like to cook. My husband, however, is fabulous.

What makes you laugh? My husband, when Gus growls this really deep “smoker” Tiger growl, when AJ sings pop songs, TV shows Castle, The Big Bang Theory, and Bones. Good friends, Twitter, Facebook…

If you could be a cartoon character, who would it be? Dumbo. It took me a long time to figure this one out, but I have always loved Dumbo. Dumbo’s mother loves him unconditionally and when other’s don’t believe in him he still tries. Despite his shortcomings, flaws, uniqueness, and special needs, he is a hero. Disney actually meant to create a character that had to overcome such diversity, modeling him after Superman, who was very popular at the time (remember the song “When I see an Elephant Fly?”)

What are your hobbies? Gardening. I LOVE my garden and bought my existing house partly because of its flower garden. I’m teaching my boys to garden too and AJ absolutely loves it.

What is your favorite season of the year? Fall. But I love spring when my flowers come in. It just makes me happy.

What is something you can share with GIMH readers that would surprise them? I nap everyday.

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Like Dandelion Dust has won more than twenty national and international film festival awards, among them “Best Feature” at the Heartland Film Festival, San Luis Obispo International Film Festival, and Las Vegas International Film Festival.

The movie is a tear-jerker. I left the screening worn out from crying (okay…sobbing) and with mixed feelings about Like Dandelion Dust. There was one story line about abuse that wouldn’t float in my home state. But the stunner was the revelation that Joey, the six year-old child in the movie, did not know he was adopted. (Are you kidding me?!)

Producer Bobby Downs and Director John Gunn spoke to us before and after the screening. They shared that Joint Council on International Children’s Services (JCICS) could not come to an agreement about recommending Like Dandelion Dust to the adoption community. (They decided not to.) And after viewing it I can understand why. Aside from the stunning revelation mentioned in the preceding paragraph, I had a few major issues with the movie that the production company hopes to release in September. Like Dandelion Dust is very fond of stereotypes, such as the poor gritty uneducated dead-end birthparents and the privileged rich adoptive parents. It perpetuates the misconceptions about domestic adoption and stumbled all over the place with language relating to adoption and family connections. Many in the adoption community are trying to alleviate these stereotypes and inaccuracies by advocating for and educating others about adoption.

So what were some of the positives I came away with? Actress Mira Sorvino gave a beautiful heart-felt and sensitive depiction of a birthmother. And Like Dandelion Dust did something else. The movie portrayed the love that parents have for their children in a palpable, raw, and riveting way. The message of the essence of family came through loud and clear.

Adoptive parents are barraged with “adoption is second best” and “your own child” sentiments. The love that an adoptive parent has for their child is just as deep and just as “real” as the love a birthparent has for their child. To all of those involved in the making of Like Dandelion Dust, thank you for showing that truth and for hitting a nerve or two in the process.

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My daughter arrived home at thirteen months, broken in spirit and disconnected. I sensed that she was engulfed in an invisible cocoon. Her cries and screams, which happened without warning and often over a dozen times each day, expressed her fathomless grief and her inability to connect. My daughter was trying, but her sensory processing system was not integrated. I didn’t know how to help her, other than to snuggle her up as close to me as I possibly could, many times skin-to-skin, in an attempt to absorb the demons that chased her.

It would be years later until I understood the magnitude of the cards she’d been dealt by losing her birth mother and by being adopted. I, mother to this precious soul, was ripped open.  My daughter’s grief and her sensory integration processing disorder connected us on the deepest level imaginable. She felt safe with me and shared every bit of what she felt. Her disorder made me take a closer look at another side of adoption, one that is difficult to face and resolve—loss.

Most of us come to adoption through loss. For me and my husband, it was infertility and the loss of another child. Long story short: we grieved and went ahead with adoption.

My daughter arrived with enormous emotional baggage packed full of loss—of her birth mother. The loss of her birth mother was another layer that had to be addressed. As occupational and physical therapies integrated her sensory processing and improved her speech, she began to verbalize the loss of her birth mother. Her greatest grief was triggered around her birthday. She only shared her grief with me.

Her grief (at least for now) culminated when she turned nine. I was ready for it, well as ready as you can be for your child to descend into emotional hell. When she finally was done screaming and raging, and telling me I was just her baby sitter, that I didn’t love her, that her birth mother didn’t love her, that she wanted her Chinese mother, and she wanted to live in China (I had quiet answers for all of these…), it dawned on me that she was trying to justify why I shouldn’t love her. I asked her if she was afraid that by expressing all of this that I really wouldn’t love her. And she cried—a completely different kind of cry I had never heard. I told my daughter that there was nothing she could ever say or do that could keep me from loving her. I gave her permission to grieve. I also told her that I wanted her to share it all with me. Mommies are good for that. I got one of her super duper all-body hugs and she went out to play with her younger brother.

During a birth mother discussion with her younger brother in the car months later, my daughter shared that her birth mother had died. I listened, but didn’t say anything. She shared that same information with me weeks later and when I asked why she thought that, she just insisted that her birth mother was dead.

I don’t know if my daughter feels some cosmic connection to her birth mother or if she considers her birth mother dead to her because she has come into another level of healing—acceptance. I’m expecting that loss will come up again—when she gets her period, falls in love, marries, and has children. And I will be there, holding her hand and her heart.

Judy M. Miller’s essays and articles appear in parenting magazines. Her stories are included in A Cup of Comfort for Adoptive Families: Stories That Celebrate a Special Gift of Love, Pieces of Me: Who Do I Want to Be? and Chicken Soup for the Soul: Thanks Mom. She is an editor for Story Circle Network and recently was a presenter for “Finding Our Stories Online” at the Stories form the Heart conference in Austin, Texas. Judy blogs at The International Mom’s Blog and facilitates classes for adoptive parents at Parenting Your Adopted Child: Tweens, Teens & Beyond.

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As I raise my own kids, the “A” word carries a different meaning. “A” stands for abandoned—an emotionally-loaded, negatively-charged word tied to adoption.

Abandoned means being forsaken, deserted without any moral or emotional attachment. Discarded. Upon hearing this word, often attached to their adoption story, the adopted child’s perception is that they weren’t wanted, not loved, undeserving of being with their birth parent(s). What wonderful baggage to have hanging over and in the head of an adoptee as they work through issues of loss and identity. Talk about stacking the deck against someone…

The word “abandon” is painful for adoptive parents to say and even harder to discuss with their child. But the discussion needs to happen, for only doing so will make it easier, make it less emotionally- and negatively-charged. Experts tell adoptive parents not to shy away from the word, to use it in order to normalize it and empower their children—as they will be questioned about their adoptee status and past by others.

How often people like to point out that Chinese adoptees have been abandoned. Perhaps; but more likely not. Abandonment is a not the-whole-truth truth. Children need to hear the rest of the story, the other side. They need to know that they were brought into this world because their life was valued by their birth mother. And for those children, like my two daughters who were born in China, that, yes, they were left by someone, most likely a deeply loving birth parent faced with an insurmountable situation, to be found.

Judy M. Miller’s essays and articles appear in parenting magazines. Her stories are included in A Cup of Comfort for Adoptive Families: Stories That Celebrate a Special Gift of Love , Pieces of Me: Who Do I Want to Be? and Chicken Soup for the Soul: Thanks Mom. She facilitates classes for adoptive parents at Parenting Your Adopted Child with Judy M. Miller and blogs at The International Mom’s Blog.

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The devastation has brought the topic of adoption to the forefront. One adoption headline continues to be the plight of children and parents in who were matched and in the adoption process. The legal system is in shambles, paperwork missing and officials unaccounted for or dead. The first evacuated orphans in need of care landed today in the U.S. For children already identified eligible for adoption by the Haitian government and being adopted by US citizens, the State department has said that the “humanitarian parole policy” will be applied on a case-by case basis.

The other headline has been the skyrocketing interest in adopting from Haiti. One agency in Oklahoma has received close to 1000 calls about adopting from Haiti since the earthquake. The agency typically handles about twelve in the same period. Government officials are faced with making sure that every attempt is made to reunite families and that the Hague Convention on Intercountry Adoption is followed.

301 children were adopted from Haiti in 2008; last year it was 330. Unicef estimates there were already 380,000 children orphaned by one or both parents before the quake happened and now the number may be close to one million.  It will take a long period of time to determine the true number of children that have been orphaned by the catastrophe. Until then, adoption from Haiti will take an amazing deal of patience and persistence. 

Judy M. Miller’s essays and articles appear in parenting magazines. Her stories are included in A Cup of Comfort for Adoptive Families: Stories That Celebrate a Special Gift of Love , Pieces of Me: Who Do I Want to Be? and Chicken Soup for the Soul: Thanks Mom. She blogs at The International Mom’s Blog and facilitates classes for adoptive parents at Parenting Your Adopted Child with Judy M. Miller.

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