Happy Adoption Day!

Today is our fifth (!) Adoption Day. This year, I'm going to let Mark describe how adoption feels from the kid's point of view...this is an awesome paper he wrote for class last year, which immediately brought me to tears. 

Happy Adoption day, Mark--I love you!

My Best Gift
By Mark Dinsdale

It was a gray, dingy, dreary, and uninteresting day. I was tired of moving from place to place. This day I didn’t realize that I was going to a place where I was going to stay forever.

Once a week, a lady called Heather would come and play with me. I thought she was a person who just came to play. One day when I was playing in the freezing cold, frosty air I had to pick up all my favorite belongings. I had no idea where I was going.

After I loaded up all my favorite belongings, I had to put them in Heather’s car. It was Thanksgiving Day when I went to her clean, tidy house. There was not a speck of dust in the huge house (although it was only one story). After five minutes of being in the home, unknown people started pouring into the house. I started to flip out and dove under my soon-to-be bed.

About ten minutes later, I came out from under my bed. After Thanksgiving, I went to my real house and I was explosive with anger. I did not want to go back to my real house; I wanted to stay at Heather’s house forever. When I finally got back to my house, I sprang to my bed.

About a month later, I was adopted. I had no idea! No one told me, until about fifteen minutes before my new mom came to the house. The person who adopted me was Heather.

“I should’ve known,” I whispered to myself because Heather came to my house every so often.

I still had a lot of stuff in the garage. Heather yelled, ”Holy cow, that’s a lot of stuff.” I looked for all my absolute favorite stuff. I got most of it and shoved it into the smooth, sleek, black car.

I bet if I was never adopted I would probably be at my fifteenth or sixteenth house. I’m glad I was adopted. Now I am the happiest kid on earth. 

How could I forget??

With all the craziness of our previous weekend (birthdays, Disneyland, a houseful of guests, a soccer game, a birthday barbecue), I completely forgot one of the most important days of my life.

Kathleen arrived early to help with the last-minute details for the barbecue. She handed me a card, and I just said, "What's this?"

Turns out "this" brought me to tears.

It was a card that said Happy Adoption Day, and a gift card to Coldstone Creamery. Kathleen smiled again, and said, "The ice cream sundaes are on me!" (Last year, on the first anniversary, Mark and I decided to celebrate every Adoption Day with a trip to Disneyland and sundaes for dinner.)

I immediately welled up and hugged her. And then I smacked myself for forgetting. (Bad mom!!!)

I kicked myself mentally all day long, until finally, I stopped. I realized maybe it wasn't such a big deal after all -- maybe it was actually a really healthy thing that I forgot. I don't think in terms of when we legally became a family anymore; I just think of us as a family.

See, the thing is, sometimes I actually forget Mark is adopted. I never think of him as my "adopted" son, and he never thinks of me as his "adoptive" mother. We're just Mom and Mark.

We talk about adoption occasionally, but not nearly as much as we did that first year. In fact, I think we talked about it so much that year, he's had his fill.

Which is not to say we ignore it, either. He talks about his birth parents sometimes, when something reminds him of them. But he calls them by their first names and with each passing year, the distance grows a little farther and he talks about them a little less.

I bring them up if he hasn't in a while, especially on days like Mother's or Father's Day, when he's sure to be thinking of them. I tell him how grateful I am they gave birth to such a wonderful little boy, and how lucky I am to raise him. I tell him I'm glad he's had so many people throughout his life who love him.

I asked Mark how he felt about our second Adoption Day, and he just shrugged. The he immediately asked, "When do we get our sundaes?"

"Soon," I promised. I tried a different tact, asking, "Have you been thinking about the adoption? I bet that was kinda scary for you, being adopted into a whole new family."

He just shrugged again, and said simply, "Nope." Then he asked if he could go back to playing with his cousins.

I know he does think about it, even if he won't admit it, and I'm glad. I don't pretend he doesn't have a before...a history, a lifetime, heck, even another family, before he had me. I had all of those things, too, if in a completely different way. But nobody ever tried to quash my history pre-Mark, or pretend like it never happened, and thankfully, they've never tried to ignore his either.

Last year's celebration was a huge sigh of relief, commemorating a day that took two long years to happen. It was joyful because the previous two years were so fraught with emotion. It was bittersweet, because while it was the beginning of one family, it was also the end of another. But mostly it was loving, because wherever we looked, wherever we turned, we were surrounded by love, by friends, by family hugging and congratulating us.

So it was fitting that we spent this same day, two years later, celebrating with many of those same people. We were celebrating someone else, my cousin Kathleen (it was her birthday), but that didn't matter, because we were still surrounded by love and family.

And really, at the end of the day, that's what matters most. Not where you started from or how you came to be loved, but simply that you are loved.

From the mouths of babes

Yesterday, Mark's friend Tyler came over to play. Mark said something silly about Tyler being adopted, and Tyler just looked at him blankly.

"Mark's adopted," I explained. "That's why he's joking about it."

"Oh," Tyler replied, but I could tell he didn't really understand.

The adoption revelation stuck with him. Later, the boys were playing in Mark's room, and I heard them talking about it.

"Where did your mom get you from?" Tyler asked.

Mark didn't quite understand the question, so he said, "She got me from America."

"Yeah, but from where?" Tyler persisted.

"Um, from EARTH," Mark answered, a bit snotty.

Tyler tried another tact. "Did she get you from a house?"

Mark snorted. "Yes, I was in a house."

Tyler: "Were you by yourself?"

Mark snorted, "No."

Tyler: "Did she say, 'Can I have you?'"

Mark, summing up my two-year-journey to bring him home: "No, it was just a regular adoption. There were lots of papers to sign and stuff."

And that was it. The adoption discussion was closed, and they went on playing Legos. I giggled to myself at the whole conversation, at the child-like questions and the simple answers. Mark doesn't usually like talking about things that make him different, like being adopted or having diabetes, but sometimes, like today, it's not a big deal at all.

Except to me. And to my heart, which was spilling over with pride at my little man.

Mazel Tov!

Yeah, that's right, I just used a religious phrase as my title...now pick yourself up off the ground and keep reading! :-)

Rob and Kelley returned from Taiwan, with their new little U.S. Citizen, Romi (and he didn't even have to take the citizenship test!). They had a five-hour layover at the airport, so we went to see them and kiss the baby.

Mark, Marilyn (Kelley's mom) and I drove to the airport together, and we could barely contain ourselves. I planned to drop Marilyn off curbside and park the car, but Kelley called before we got there. They'd already cleared customs, and retrieved their luggage.

"You're already done?" I asked. She'd said customs would take a couple hours.

"Yep," Kelley answered. "They already raised Romi's right hand and swore him in as a citizen."

That image cracked me up. "Really?" I asked, and Kelley just laughed at me, saying no, she was just kidding.

So I raced through the traffic. "There they are!" Marilyn cried, and that was the last thing I heard her say for half an hour.

Rob was messing with the luggage, and Kelley was standing there, holding Romi. She looked so natural holding him, and he looked so tiny, so cute. He was beautiful, just absolutely adorable--so much so, I think they should consider changing his legal name to The Most Adorable Baby Romi Gludt.

I waited in the car momentarily, so Marilyn could get out and hug her daughter and new grandson. But she was so emotional, she couldn't even speak--she just stared at them. I rolled down her window so at least she could stare without the glass in the way.

And then I couldn't take it any more. "OK, Marilyn, if you're not getting out, I am!" I said, and popped out of the car. I hugged Kelley and the baby all at once. Then Marilyn got out, so I moved over and hugged Rob. "Congratulations, Daddy," I told him, and he smiled the biggest smile ever.

Marilyn was still quiet, overcome by it all. She couldn't even hold the baby. "I can't yet," she said. "My brain is still mush." Instead, she just stared at him lovingly, and at Kelley and Rob the same way.



Kelley and Rob were naturals with the baby. When he started fussing, Kelley ran off to buy bottled water. She handed Romi's baby bottle to the cashier, instructing her to "fill it to here with hot water," pointing precisely to the 2-ounce mark. She then added the formula mix and bottled water, shook it expertly, and handed it to Rob. Rob tilted it upward and fed Romi, who sat quietly in his daddy's arm, totally happy. It was so awesome to see.

Their friend Carrie arrived and the "He's so beautiful!" scenario repeated itself. The Gludts were hungry, so we packed everybody up and took them to lunch. "I don't want to see another noodle!" Kelley said, so Mark suggested every Asian restaurant and noodle dish he could think of.

Scott, Mari, their kids, and the dog met us at the restaurant. We set up three tables outside, and between the new parents, emotional grandma, excited friends, the dog, 4 kids, 1 toddler and very-tired infant, it was quite a scene. Everybody oohed and ahhed at the baby, and the Gludts fought their exhaustion valiantly (it was 2 a.m. for them, and they'd just travelled for 24 hours).

Then it was time to go. I hated returning them to the airport so soon, but they'll be back in two weeks. I knew they were exhausted and ready to start their new life at home with Romi. So I hugged them tight, said goodbye, and spent the rest of the day grinning like a fool.

And I know I wasn't the only one.

HOORAY!!!!

It's not often you hear news so great you simply can't stop smiling. But that's exactly the type of news I received this morning...

My friends Kelley and Rob got their baby, Romi, today! They have waited patiently, subsisting on the few pictures and videos their adoption agency sporadically sent them. But finally, this past weekend they packed their bags (and the baby's, too!) and traveled clear across the world. Today, in Taiwan, in a time zone far, far away, it all paid off. Today, for the first time ever, they held their baby son in their arms.


I wish I could write all sorts of wise, wonderful things about the journey that awaits them (I'm talking about the baby here, not the trip home!). But that's the beauty of becoming a parent--their path is shared, and similar, to other parents, and yet, at the same time, completely their own.

And so, instead of giving my own wordy advice, I simply say, "Hooray!!!"

Welcome to the family, Romi--we can't wait to meet you! And CONGRATULATIONS to your mom and dad, Kelley and Rob, two of my favorite people in the world.

And so the journey begins...

525,600 minutes

"Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?"
----"Seasons of Love" lyrics from the musical Rent

Today is our official Adoption Day--exactly one year ago today, Mark and I (and our family and friends!) sat nervously in the Children's Court and listened to a judge finalize our adoption.

It was the legal beginning of our lives as parent and child, and the happiest day of my life. But not for the reason it should've been...

I'd always imagined adoption day would be joyful and proud because I officially became a mother. But honestly, it felt more like...well, not the end, really, but the sense of closure was much stronger than anything else. The biggest benefit to the adoption was the state now recognized me as Mark's legal mother, instead of treating me like a glorified babysitter with no legal say in Mark's care.

The thing is, I'd already had Mark for two years. I'd struggled, learning what it really meant to be a mother, and a single one at that. It was so much more than making sure he had clean clothes, hot meals, and a band-aid when he cut himself.

I struggled with Mark's diabetes--how to manage it, how to recognize Mark's high and low blood sugars, how to feed him and when. As a single person, I slept all night long without a care in the world. As a new mom, night time became the scariest time in my life--would Mark go low while I slept obliviously? I woke often at night to test and correct him, and placed a baby monitor in his room and mine. But even that wasn't enough--I spent lots of time standing in his doorway, watching him sleep, making sure he was still breathing.

I struggled with Mark as an angry little boy. He hadn't been told anything prior to moving in with me, and what he knew made him mad. He was shuffled between families (birth, foster, and the newest family, me), ordered to visitations by a court that knew nothing about him or his best interests. He was interrogated by the many, many, many social workers, lawyers, and other child advocates required to visit him, all asking the same questions. He had no sense of control, with his old life or this crazy new one, and it drove him nuts. He was five years old, and acted out accordingly, with tantrums, and fits of rage. I can't say that I blame him.

But we got over it all. Slowly, we learned to navigate his diabetes together. He learned to communicate instead of raging, and to trust that I wasn't going anywhere. He learned to adapt to a new home, a new school, a new mom, and a big, extended family. I learned that my family and friends exceeded all of my expectations of love, that they were giving and supportive beyond belief, and without expecting anything in return. Their love and support got me through the toughest times in my life.

I learned patience, with a scared little boy and with a messed-up, red-tape bureaucratic system that functioned solely to complicate my life and drag out the whole adoption process (that's what it felt like). I learned to trust that while social workers didn't always bring good news (another birth mother appeal granted--again??), they fought for us again and again, as overworked and underpaid as they were. I learned that they didn't like filling out all the reams of paperwork any more than I did, and yet, they never complained.

I learned to function sleep-deprived, and Mark learned to ignore me when I was cranky and tired. I learned that beneath all that fear and anger was a happy, sweet, funny little boy who smiled easily, laughed loudly, and loved freely. He learned that there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for him, and I learned that I could love someone, little as he was, more than I ever imagined.

And that was where we were at a year ago today, arriving at the judge's chambers. We'd settled into our lives, and when the judge proclaimed us a forever family, it was only a formality. It was just the official stamp on the paper. Because I hugged Mark tightly, and as I watched my family and friends do the same, I knew that no matter what the date on the adoption certificate, we'd been family since that very first day.

So, happy Adoption Day, Mark. I'm proud to be your mom, and I love you.