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A Note To the Nay-Sayers

A couple of months ago, I read a horror story.

It was a news article about two-year-old little Guatemalan girl who was kidnapped and then ended up in an orphanage.  Her birth mother searched for her for 4 years and finally tracked her down.  She had been adopted by an American family who is ignorant of the fact that their daughter was actually kidnapped.  And now the birth mother wants her back. 

Horrific for the birth mother.  Horrific for the adoptive mother.   Tragic for the little girl. 

It sent shudders up my spine. 

But what was more disturbing to me was the comment section below the article.  The criticism against international adoption was intense.  I know not to take such comments too seriously, considering they are often full of grammatical errors and written by people who have way too much time on their hands, but it’s not the first time I’ve read that kind of criticism.  Recently it seems I’ve come across it quite a few times. 

So since I am passionate about international adoption, here’s my soapbox on the main arguments I have heard. 

1.  International Adoption is full of corruption. 

I would agree with a revised statement:  International Adoption can be full of corruption.  Just like anything else in life.  The program in Guatemala has been suspended for years now because of corruption.  Prospective adoptive parents need to do their homework, both on the agency they use and the country they are interested in adopting from.  They need to ask the hard questions and not be naive.  But just because a few cases of corruption exist, there’s no reason to assume corruption is everywhere.  Is that a reason to shun the millions of children who will never know what it’s like to have a full tummy, a hug from a mama, and the chance to learn to read?

One of the main advantages to Tanzanian adoptions is that we work directly with the government and not with any agency.  No one gets paid, ever, except the lawyer that we use at the very end to finalize the procedure.  Only residents of Tanzania can adopt from here, so I can’t encourage just anyone to apply, but I can encourage a prospective international adoptive parent to find out exactly where their money is going. 

2.  International adoption steals children away from poor families who would love to care for their children but can’t afford it. 

Ooohhh…this is a sensitive issue!  And it’s complicated.  And it’s not fair for people to say, “Wouldn’t it be better to support the birth family instead?” 

Can’t it be a yes/and instead of an either/or? 

I think of Forever Angels (Lily’s orphanage), which definitely does both.  Take a moment to read up on their website if you are not convinced.  Their first choice, always, for their babies, is to get them back with their birth families.  They help mamas gain an income.  They help them find jobs.  They research every possible lead on relatives.  (Their search for Lily’s relatives was very extensive). They give out food, clothing, resources to the families of their children.

But what about the children who have a mother in the psychiatric ward?  What about the newborns who are found in a pit latrine?  What about the ones who come to the orphanage covered with scars? What about a country where 10% have HIV and is decimating a whole segment of the population? 

When you hear stories about Haitian women begging foreigners to take their babies, it is heartbreaking.  So of course community development is vitally important….children are meant to stay with their birth families!  But we live in a broken world where that is not always possible…or even the best thing for that child. 

3.  Americans should adopt only from America before they start worrying about the children in the rest of the world. 

Wow.  Really? 

But I’ve actually read that statement. 

The truth is, that with abortion so accessible, healthy adoptable infants can be hard to come by in America.  And even when they are, it can be painfully risky for adoptive parents since the birthmother has a certain number of days to change her mind (depending on the state). 

I would love to see more children adopted out of the foster care system, and if we were in the States, we would have probably gone down that route.  But as far as I understand, even that can take years to make happen.  And parenting foster children, even if they are adoptable, is a calling in itself. 

As a Christian though, I really hope that no one would use this argument even if there were just as many adoptable children in the States.  Do we wait until poverty is eliminated in the States before we go elsewhere?  Do we only evangelize in the States before we go elsewhere?  And the truth is, an unwanted child in the States is unlikely to starve to death in an orphanage….as is true in many, many countries.

Of course, I’m all for American adoption as well.   But if people feel passionately called to international adoption, don’t make them feel guilty for their calling. 

4.  An adopted child can never really be a part of an adoptive family.  He/she will always feel a connection to his/her birth mother/family/country and it’s doing them a disservice to take them away. 

Ugh.  It turns my stomach to know that people think this. 

I am not adopted, so I cannot speak to this personally.  I can only speak of this biblically.  If we can be a part of God’s family, then these children can be a part of ours.  Period. 

What makes me sad is that this is the main argument used even in Tanzanian culture, on why they don’t adopt children from their own orphanages.  Blood ties run deep.  Your tribe, your clan, your family name….that is everything here.  It’s why distant relatives would rather have a child spend her whole life in an orphanage rather than releasing her for adoption.  It’s why adoption is simply not an option for infertile couples, let alone anyone else (with very, very few exceptions). 

I’ve been reading up again on attachment and adoption issues, getting new ideas to help Lily’s adjustment (which is really going well, by the way).  But do you realize what happens to children who never make a significant attachment to a permanent caregiver?  They are thus unable to have any significant relationships in their lifetime.  What happens to these orphans when they become teenagers and still have no family, and no emotional ability to really create their own?  Such is the fertile soil for prostitution, crime, and other heartbreaks.  What’s more important–that a child knows his native culture, or that he knows unconditional love?  

I know I’m probably preaching to the choir to my readers.  But just in case…just in case someone out there is considering international adoption and is being swayed by these nay-sayers…..think again.

Grace for the Day

I don’t have many complete and coherent thoughts these days.  They come in scattered little bursts and are mostly focused on the next thing to get done. 

This has been the hardest parenting month of my life.  And I feel like such a wimp, knowing that there are many moms out there who have special needs children or lots more children than me, and I wonder how exactly they do it, since I feel like at any given moment I just might burst into tears.  I daydream of sending Josiah to pre-school.  Or boarding school. 

I guess I had it easy before, since I had never had three children all crying at the same time.  Or have a child throw a fit in church before.  Or in the Benson Online Internet office.  And when people in said internet office first question whether or not these really are my children, and look at me very skeptically when I assure them that they are, and then I have to carry said children out bodily, kicking and screaming simply because of one yellow crayon, it doesn’t do much for one’s self-confidence as a mother.      

Whenever I think I have learned a lesson in selflessness, my children make sure I have another.  I end the day emotionally and mentally exhausted though I haven’t done any real coherent thinking.  Disciplining all day long makes me want to crawl into a hole. I can’t minister to people the way I want to; I don’t have time to read; nothing ever seems to be done well.   I just realized today that I will have to miss our mission’s conference in Kenya next April (which only happens once every couple of years) because Lily won’t have a passport by then.  I cried. 

Yet I am so thankful.  Thankful for this chance for my own self-will to be ripped out of me.  Thankful that I can learn, one more time, that God doesn’t need me to “get things done” the way that I think He does.  Thankful for the opportunity to be confronted with my own selfishness.  Thankful to learn just a little bit more what it means to lay down my life.  To have my pride cut out from underneath me that somehow I thought I was a “good” mother…whatever that means anyway. 

It’s all grace.  Grace if I am able to get through a day.  Grace if I get a good night’s sleep.  Grace that my daughter is doing so well in school.  Grace that Lily has shown such tremendous progress.  Grace that I have been given good work to do.  Grace if my children turn out “right.”  Grace that I am His.  That I have a purpose, a plan, true love, this great salvation, a future filled with hope.  Not much else matters other than grace. 

Everyone needs a little Grace in their lives.  Or a lot.    

Three

One Month Later

Today we were at a kids’ play place, and Lily was jumping on the trampoline.  When she wanted to get off, a worker there reached for her to take her down.  I was also standing there watching her, and she looked at the two of us, and turned to me instead. 

Since Lily often makes no distinction between a perfect stranger and me, I considered that a good sign.  Or maybe she just chose me because the worker was male.  And wearing a clown costume.  But we’ll just assume that it’s because she is bonding.

Really, she’s doing great.  She gets the carseat thing now.  She doesn’t freak out around the dogs.  She is able to go up and down stairs (that one had surprised me–but why should it?  She had never used stairs in her life).  She will tolerate hot dogs.  She’s figured out how to get herself water from the filter.  Potty training has gone out the window, but I’m guessing she’ll get it back quickly when we start working on it.  She loves to be held but hates to hold my hand.  She gets more words and more sentences every day.  Her giggle is infectious.

From everything I can tell, she is adjusting excellently.  It’s been a crazy month that passed in a blur, but even with all the craziness, I managed to keep her by my (or Gil’s) side the entire time, except for about 4 hours total all month.  Exhausting, but worth it.  This week we moved her into the kids’ room with no distress. 

Honestly, the hardest part for me right now is Josiah.  Lily’s tantrums wear me out, but I can outlast her.  Josiah, however, has had some pretty rough days.  Like terrible-horrible-no good-very bad-I’m moving to Australia-days.  Grouchy, whiny, mean, reverting to kicking-screaming on the floor behavior….All.Day.Long.  Ugh.  I knew my adorable, complicated little boy would have a hard adjustment, but he is wearing me down.  Help me out here, Moms.  Is this normal for some kids when they get a new sibling?  Or is it because Lily is a toddler?  We’re giving him extra attention; we’re praising him up and down; we’re giving him rewards when he does well….trying everything to not to have to discipline him for the entire day.  Because that’s what it feels like.  Sometimes he has already hit his sister before I even make it into the bedroom in the morning….not because she has done anything to him.  Just because she exists. 

Nothing like parenting to humble a person!

Showers of Blessing

Okay, Okay, I know.  Cheezy title.  But really, that’s how I felt.

My friends gave me a surprise baby shower for Lily.  Even now, I get choked up about it.  I’ve never had a surprise party.  Baby showers usually are given before a baby is born, so it’s one of the things us adoptive moms don’t usually get until afterwards.  But for me, I think that makes it even more meaningful.  And the love and support I felt that day was…..a shower of blessing.  There’s just really not any other way to describe it. 

(that’s everyone’s reaction when they saw my reaction)

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