A Different Kind of Birthday

Today is my Quinn's 4th birthday. It has been an amazing adventure to watch her grow from a 9 month old baby who could not even sit up alone to a fiercely independent 4 year old who can do almost anything (or so she thinks). I watch her getting dressed and marvel at how her body no longer has that toddler shape. Now she has more of a little girl shape, though maybe I should call it a mini-girl because she IS on the small side. It's a big day for all of us, because her Daddy has declared Quinn's mouth a "paci-free zone" and they packed up all the pacifiers this morning to ship to our friends in Las Vegas. Please say a special prayer for us tonight. We'll need it at bedtime.

For all my talk about how parenting an adopted child is no different than parenting a child born from my own body, today is the day that reminds me that there are indeed differences. It's a different sort of birthday. With Dana and Karis I can tell them stories about the day they were born. I don't have that with Quinn. I don't know if she was born after a long labor or a short one. Did she cry right away? Was she alert? Did she need any help to start breathing? Was she born early, or on her due date, or late? Every year on this day I think about Quinn's birth mother somewhere in China and I wonder if she thinks about her baby. I know that most Chinese don't have any idea how many children live in orphanages there and that a great number of them are eventually adopted into other countries, most into the US. In an area as remote as the one Quinn came from, I suspect that they don't even know about the orphanages and definitely not about international adoption. I wonder what they think happens to the babies that are left. On this day, I wonder if Quinn's birth mother misses her. I wonder if she ever regrets leaving that month-old baby in the marketplace. I know that the mother intended for someone to find Quinn, otherwise she could have left her somewhere less public. That tells me that she cared enough to keep Quinn alive, and she did take care of Quinn for a month before she left her. According to the orphanage, there was a note left with Quinn telling them her birthdate, so we party on May 20 with a reasonable amount of confidence that it IS the correct day. When we first started pursuing international adoption, I loved the fact that due to China's law about abandonment, we would never know who Quinn's birthparents are, and therefore we would never have to worry about anyone trying to take her back or having to share her with another set of parents. Now I can tell you with certainty that I would give almost anything to be able to tell Quinn something, anything about her birth family. I worry that one day she will feel an emptiness there and I won't be able to do anything to help her.

So today we celebrate my baby Quinn. I rejoice that God sent her to us, even though our joy means that another set of parents on the other side of the world has to live without Quinn. I am thrilled and honored to be able to call myself Quinn's mother but sad for that other mother who doesn't get all the hugs and kisses and "I love you's." Happy Birthday, Quinnster. You get more and more beautiful with every passing day.

What kind of mom am I?

I got an email today from my China adoption email group about a contest the Today show is conducting to find America's Favorite Mom. They have the Moms separated into categories, like Military Moms, Working Moms, etc. They also had a category for Non-Mom Moms, for those who are raising grandchildren, foster children, or stepchildren. Apparently someone involved in the contest made the mistake of lumping adoptive parents in with the Non-Mom Moms and a furor has erupted on the email group, with a call to arms to rally the troops and email/call the sponsors until a change is made. Actually, when I looked at the website earlier it appears that they have changed the category title from Non-Mom Moms to something else, but I'm not sure that's going to be enough. That group likes nothing more than a challenge to their parenthood status that needs to be overcome.

On the one hand, before I was an adoptive parent I'm sure I made faux pas galore in talking about adoption. As I got further into the process I started realizing how flat-footed I may have been in the past. Many people in the USA/world don't know anyone who has been involved in adoption and they are just ignorant about it. I mean "ignorant" in the sense that they just don't know any better, not in a mean way. When I come across people like that I try to correct them gently whenever possible. Most of the time they mean no harm. I never know if they are going to run into some militant adoptive parent who is going to take offense and say something rude to them later on. I'd like to think that whoever set up the contest and website simply made a mistake by putting adoptive mothers into a category called Non-Moms. I mean, who out there thinks that an adoptive mother is any less a mother than a birth mother? Surely, in this day and age, most people are past that. I'd like to think so. But how many people connected with the contest saw the materials before (or even after) they got posted online and said nothing? Marie Osmond is the celebrity "host" and she's an adoptive mother herself! You'd think she might have noticed.

On the other hand, how many people out there really do think that mothers who didn't actually give birth to their children are less of a mother? I will admit, as a mother to both biological and adopted children, that the experience is different for each. On the one hand, I've known Dana and Karis since before they were born. We bonded with each kick, each squirm, each hiccup when they were still passengers in my womb. I saw them on ultrasound and with Karis, I even was able to see the features of her face, so much so that when she was born I felt like I already knew her because she looked just like that 3D ultrasound picture. With Karis and Dana I find myself looking for physical and personality traits like my own or their fathers'. Sadly (or happily, I don't know which) neither of them seems much like me and that doesn't seem fair. I gained the weight and the stretch marks, then I had to recover from childbirth. Would it be too much to ask for one of them to at least resemble me? Anyway, I digress.

With Quinn, there is so much mystery. Does she look like her mother or her father? Anytime she does something particularly smart or funny, I wonder if one of her parents was that way. Did they have long fingers like hers? Did either of them talk with a lisp, like she does? And yet, although we share no biology at all, Quinn is more like me in personality that either of her sisters. I'm so sad that I didn't know her from the very beginning like I did the other two, but I know God had everything in His hand. I wish I had known what she was like as a baby. Did she like to rock? Did she sleep well? Was she excited to start soft foods or did she spit them out? Does missing these experiences make me any less a mother to her? Of course not! Which brings me to a pet peeve of mine - people using the phrase "your own" to differentiate between adopted and bio children, as in "Kim has three daughters, one adopted and two of her own." Most people don't really think about it as an insult but it is. All three of my children are MY OWN. If you want to ask which one is adopted, just ask which one is adopted. Adoption is nothing to be ashamed of.

So I had a dream (nightmare?) last night about Quinn. I think the Non-Mom thing got mixed up in my mind with foster parenting, which is sometimes done in China nowadays. They put the children who will someday be adopted with a foster family to get them accustomed to family life, and then a couple of days before the adoptive parents are due to come, the foster family has to bring the child back to the orphanage for that last couple of days. Can you imagine the turmoil this must cause to all concerned, especially the child? Back to the dream.... I dreamed that we were told that we had to bring Quinn back to Guiyang because there was a family that was going to adopt her. In the dream I was in Guangzhou alone with Quinn, getting ready to catch a train to the airport so we could fly to Guiyang. I was devastated at the thought of giving my baby back! I got on the train and decided that there was no way I could give this child back. What would it do to her ability to trust when the only family she had ever known dropped her off at the orphanage? I took out my cellphone and called Jon to tell him I was coming home. I figured if I could get her back in the USA before the Chinese government realized I wasn't bringing her home she would be safe because she's a US citizen. Anyway, I woke up already upset. Not a good way to start the day. It just brings home to me how much Quinn is MINE. I would no more give her back than I would give up either of her sisters.

Day One

My friend Matthew presented me with a challenge in such a way that I knew I couldn't turn it down and still hold my head up in church. He thinks that my affection for coffee is an addiction and as all of us who were at church for that sermon know, addictions were made to be broken. He was honest enough to admit that he himself is addicted to coke (the soda, not the illegal drug). He threw down an "I'll quit for a week if you will" challenge to me and Amy, which started yesterday.

I have to admit, I felt lousy yesterday. I was lightheaded and sluggish all day long and boy did I need a nap! However, I didn't get much sleep on Sunday night and my allergies are raging right now so it could be a combination of things. I ended up going to bed at 8:30 last night and sleeping all night long, for a total of 10 hours. That's unheard-of for me!

I feel a little better today but still a little woozy headed. I just hate to think that something had that much of a hold on me! I think when our week is up, I'll drink coffee again but maybe not as routinely. More of a special treat.

(Un)Sports(manlike) Conduct

When Dana first played t-ball, the fields she played on in Maryville Little League had a sign in the outfield: "Remember...They're Just Kids." I think that should be mandatory on every playing field used by children for any sport. So many parent-coaches are in it for themselves and not just for their little tyke, and they don't even realize it. Jon is coaching Karis' softball team this spring and he's doing pretty well. I only have to reel him in rarely. He's always been very gentle with the girls, and he's been at this for over 10 years now (coaching little girls). Bless his heart, if he was hoping to coach a go-get-em boys' team that's too bad, because all he got are daughters. Anyway, he's always been very sensitive to the girls' feelings and careful to be encouraging. He calls it "positive coaching." On occasion I will say something to the assistant coaches, one of which is Dana, and she tends to get frustrated with careless errors. The other assistant coach is mainly hard on his own daughter, and I have been known to call him down as well. My mantra is, "They're little girls playing a game." We had some bad calls the other night and Dana kept coming over to me to complain. I was trying very hard to keep myself from getting my emotions involved, so I told her I was in Softball Nirvana and nothing she said could touch me. It's just a game, it's just a game, it's just a game.... The art of Zen Softball.

Wednesday night Karis' team played against the Tigers, who haven't lost a game this season. Their coach has a reputation for being tough on the kids and I have heard him fussing at them before. I remember thinking that I wouldn't allow ANY coach to speak to my child that way. The problem is, it doesn't really escalate to what you could call verbal abuse. It's just slightly this side of abuse. Anyway, I dreaded the game all day. I knew we didn't stand much of a chance of winning - I just didn't want our girls to get discouraged if the Tigers ran the score up, which their coach has been known to do. I mean, this is 8 and under girls' softball! Get a life, coach! So I went through the day with a knot in my stomach, praying for the best and preparing for whatever might come. As it turned out, our girls didn't play a bad game. They did pretty well against a stronger team and if it hadn't been for a couple of grand slam home runs by the Tigers, we might have had a much closer game. The problem came when our girls started hitting well in the third inning. The ball got by the Tigers' shortstop and third baseman, and I heard the coaches telling them something like, "How could you let that ball get by you? You've got to get the ball!" Then the ball got by the shortstop again and once the umpire called "Time!" I saw the head coach and the assistant coach both stomping toward that poor shortstop, yelling, "What are you supposed to do with the ball? What? Then do it!" I stood up from my chair and said, "They're just little girls, guys. Come on!" I couldn't believe I said something, and then I couldn't believe that little girl's mother didn't say anything. As it turns out, her dad is the assistant coach. Anyway, when the Tigers got up to bat and it was the shortstop's turn to warm up, you could see she was near tears. Her dad (the asst. coach) walked over and told her to stop crying. Gee, Dad, that was thoughtful. What must that poor child have had to listen to in the car all the way home? And this is supposed to be fun!

I have seen many, many softball and baseball games over the years. I have seen an umpire get his jaw broken and knocked out cold by the angry coach of an 8-year-old boys' team. That coach was arrested, charged with assault and banned from coaching, and rightly so. But what affect did it have on his son, who saw the whole thing? When Dana was playing competitive fastpitch, the behavior of some of the parents was atrocious, and occasionally I was pretty obnoxious myself. What does it teach our kids when we are constantly questioning the umpire's calls, or saying mean things about the other team? We used to teach our girls to cheer on your OWN team but stay away from cheers that make fun of the other team. That's just not cool. And you compliment good plays by BOTH teams and not just your own. Jon has actually had a couple of opposing coaches come to him after a game to compliment his coaching style and I know that makes him feel like he must be doing something right. But in that game Wednesday night it was like a guppy next to a shark! In the end, I think I'd rather be with the guppy.

There was a news article a couple of days ago about two college softball teams playing for a tournament spot. A girl from one team hit her first home run and hurt her knee when she reached first base. If her teammates helped her, she would be called out. If she didn't run the bases, the run wouldn't count. Two players from the opposing team voluntarily picked her up and carried her around the bases, which eventually cost them the game. THAT is sportsmanship.