Angry Me: We Can't Be Friends
Angry overshare warning. (Granted, being exposed to my oversharing is an inherent risk in reading my blog. If you're new to Hannah Land, you might want to step back...)
So, Tom and I finished our classes to become licensed foster parents, and now we're jumping through the rest of the *expected* hoops to finish the licensing process. (If this news comes as a surprise, you didn't read my blog post in September.🤓) Expected hoops. Yep. Actually, it's less hoops than we thought it would be. Different hoops than private adoption, but a lot of overlapping ones, too.
Let me get to the point:Please unfriend, unfollow, run away from me IMMEDIATELY if you're anti-adoption. ESPECIALLY if you're anti-transracial adoption. Right this minute. Don't read another sentence. Block me, actually. Or maybe just give me a reason, and I'll do the deed. We could maaaaaybe still be fake friends in real life, like, a passing hello, because I generally respect my fellow humans... but don't plan on any coffee dates.
I'm mad. And we all have permission to be mad, okay? Go ahead and be mad, yourself. Feel all the feels. What set me off (this time)? I was looking for some parenting resources on Facebook and stumbled- no, tripped, fell and broke my nose- across a public group (freedom of speech, people- nope, not knocking it) that believes DEATH is better than being adopted. This isn't my biased take-away after reading a few posts on the page. It's blatant. Adoption is a money-making racket that steals babies from their real parents, and those kids are better off, had they never been born.
In addition, I've already been pretty stressed out by a trans-racial adoption page that I accidentally got myself into, hoping it would be helpful, informative, you know- give us some tools for the inevitable difficulties our family will face as time goes on. Nope. Adoptees, whose voice I respect over anyone else's, obviously, are just so rage-filled about almost every aspect of their own adoptive experiences, it leaves ZERO hope that adoptive parents could ever "do it right." Or even close to right. As in, "It was probably nice of you to feed me, give me a bed and put clothes on my back, but you're actually the reason I'll be seeing a psychiatrist for life."
If you're still with me, 3 paragraphs later, the foster thing... we obviously hope to become a safe, nurturing home for children who need it. If it turns into adoption- beautiful. If it doesn't- God hopefully used us to be what that kid needed for that period of time. (We're not in the trenches yet, so that statement is probably is a little idealistic. I'll admit it.) Therefore, ADOPTION IS OUR THING. We even adopted our dog.
Tom and I did not choose infertility. But we did choose to be parents. Like all of you parents did. ALL of you. If you hadn't chosen to be parents, you wouldn't have kids. Be honest. Unplanned pregnancies, or not, you wouldn't have children living at your house. Married or not. Heterosexual or not. Religious or not. Rich or not.
Unwanted pregnancy? Options: Choose to parent. Kill the kid before it's born. Kill the kid after it's born. Dump the kid after it's born in some remote location. Abuse the kid after it's born until someone takes it away. Let someone else abuse the kid after it's born until someone takes it away. Place the kid willingly in a home with people who don't view the child as "unwanted." Those are the options. Are there other options? Let me know. I don't know what they are.
To summarize:
1. Kill the child.
2. Watch someone take the child by force.
3. Be in control of who your child lives with by making the equally tough choice either to parent or to ask someone else to parent.
Birth parents (if this particular phrase is offensive, I'm totally open to using different language💕): None of the above options change the fact that he/she is YOUR child and always will be. All of the options above permanently affect YOUR child's story, however. And YOUR child will carry that decision with them forever. Forever. And if adoption is the best choice in YOUR heart and mind, those adoptive parents can't ever ignore/forget/run away from the fact that the child they are raising had another family first. You. Your partner. Your parents, siblings and extended family. You're all the first thing ever to happen to that child, from conception. NOTHING can change that. And any adoptive parents worth their salt will recognize, respect and encourage YOUR baby to love their heritage and love you, even in the midst of all the additional love and education and opportunities that you would hope your child would have.
So, angry me. We can't even function in this hateful world. But, as my incredible husband has taught me over the years: always put yourself in the other person's shoes.... Therefore, am I the hateful one? Do I hate my child? Would she actually be better off dead, never born, never conceived? That unique, precious, gift to the world that deserves every ounce of human dignity assigned to her? Sure, all of those lovely adjectives would make it seem like she's our doe-eyed, shining star we could never live without. But do I really accept her? Will she ever truly be "one of us"? Dammit. She IS our family. The whole kit and caboodle.
Olivia is only 2 years old, but, developmentally, the bonding period with us as her parent figures.... that's water under the bridge. Too late. Tom and I are her world. Mama and Dada. We are officially part of her identity as a child, as a human. Does that mean that her biological parents are nothing? Off the radar? To be ignored until she starts wondering why we have different skin tones?
HELL, no. I mean it. I won't apologize for my language. I am legitimately talking about Hell. That thought process is straight from Satan, himself. To ignore Olivia's roots, as I said- the first family she ever had, would be a sin. A real sin. Not just bad parenting or straight-up ignorant. To deny our child full disclosure of the story that is exclusively hers, given to her by God, would be equivalent to kidnapping. Selfish and disgusting and, dare I say: it should be illegal. Closed adoptions, that is.
You know, and I'll be rambling more about this in a future, Advent-y post, the Bible takes the time to run down Jesus' biological lineage, and it's not all pretty. There's more than one hooker in that family line, and it didn't get smoothed over by some biblical writers who wanted to portray Jesus' distant relatives to come across as squeaky clean. God, the Almighty Father God, Creator of the Universe, Omnipotent, could have kept the most precious creation ever right at his side for eternity. A triune Godhead brighter than the sun, unblemished, watching humans bumble around, killing each other and themselves. And that would have been fine. Righteous, even. Loving, even. God is love. He is just. He is perfect. But He didn't.
He chose to drop His beloved Son in the middle of this hot mess of a planet full of gross human beings, literally become one of us, 100% human, and allow him to be raised from infancy. On Earth. If that isn't the ultimate adoption story, you've got a screw loose. The real kicker is- Jesus' Messiah-ness became undeniable to all around Him. Miracles popping out everywhere. Giant crowds stepping on top of each other to listen to the wisdom that couldn't stop pouring out of His perfect mouth. Declaration of his Deity to the human race started even before He was born: he was so amazing- pre-birth, fetus-Jesus made another baby kick his mother even while his cousin was still IN THE WOMB. I mean, His dynamic, heavenly power was out of control.
I hope I'm not being sacrilegious, here, and I've already discussed this in a past blog post, but Joseph raised this miracle child as his own. Nobody knew any different, not until much, much later. But I can guarantee you that Joseph and Mary talked to Jesus about it His "first family." How could they not?? Kid-Jesus absolutely, non-negotiably needed to know who He was, who He really was. And God could have just as easily formed His Son from some dirt in the middle of a desert as an adult, let Him walk into a town and make miracles. No, that wasn't the plan. Jesus needed to "grow up." He had to have parents. He had to be "from" somewhere. He had to be a human that could connect with other humans on a practical level.
Okay, I'm gonna stop preaching the Gospel, now, and just leave that adoption story alone before I draw the attention of some catechetical types with a hundred degrees in apologetics and an in-depth knowledge of the early church... not that any of those are reading this, but, just in case. I am, after all, a Protestant-turned-Catholic, so I might be a little stuck in my make-it-up-as-I-go ways. After all, there's the tiniest chance that my uber-busy, author-nun-cousin might read it, and she has connections.
In all seriousness, I'm am in (and maybe naive) shock and holy horror at the sentiments of those who are so vehemently anti-adoption. I can't wrap my mind around it. Each person spewing hatred and bitterness and permission to have late-term abortions with zero guilt on that page likely represents an entire social circle that agrees with them. But, as angry as I am, I can't demonize them. We all live in a social circle that supports each others' certain brand of ignorance, and theirs just happens to be a particularly offensive, soul-crushing kind of ignorance. Imagine the damage even ONE person could do if/when coming into contact with a well-adjusted adoptee whose heart and mind have come to grips with and even made peace with all the difficult aspects of their story.
I can't. Imagine, that is. I can't afford to. I'll go to jail and lose my job, and my job covers Livvi's health insurance. And she needs breathing treatments, so..... family, first.
Family, first.
So, Tom and I finished our classes to become licensed foster parents, and now we're jumping through the rest of the *expected* hoops to finish the licensing process. (If this news comes as a surprise, you didn't read my blog post in September.🤓) Expected hoops. Yep. Actually, it's less hoops than we thought it would be. Different hoops than private adoption, but a lot of overlapping ones, too.
Let me get to the point:Please unfriend, unfollow, run away from me IMMEDIATELY if you're anti-adoption. ESPECIALLY if you're anti-transracial adoption. Right this minute. Don't read another sentence. Block me, actually. Or maybe just give me a reason, and I'll do the deed. We could maaaaaybe still be fake friends in real life, like, a passing hello, because I generally respect my fellow humans... but don't plan on any coffee dates.
I'm mad. And we all have permission to be mad, okay? Go ahead and be mad, yourself. Feel all the feels. What set me off (this time)? I was looking for some parenting resources on Facebook and stumbled- no, tripped, fell and broke my nose- across a public group (freedom of speech, people- nope, not knocking it) that believes DEATH is better than being adopted. This isn't my biased take-away after reading a few posts on the page. It's blatant. Adoption is a money-making racket that steals babies from their real parents, and those kids are better off, had they never been born.
In addition, I've already been pretty stressed out by a trans-racial adoption page that I accidentally got myself into, hoping it would be helpful, informative, you know- give us some tools for the inevitable difficulties our family will face as time goes on. Nope. Adoptees, whose voice I respect over anyone else's, obviously, are just so rage-filled about almost every aspect of their own adoptive experiences, it leaves ZERO hope that adoptive parents could ever "do it right." Or even close to right. As in, "It was probably nice of you to feed me, give me a bed and put clothes on my back, but you're actually the reason I'll be seeing a psychiatrist for life."
If you're still with me, 3 paragraphs later, the foster thing... we obviously hope to become a safe, nurturing home for children who need it. If it turns into adoption- beautiful. If it doesn't- God hopefully used us to be what that kid needed for that period of time. (We're not in the trenches yet, so that statement is probably is a little idealistic. I'll admit it.) Therefore, ADOPTION IS OUR THING. We even adopted our dog.
Tom and I did not choose infertility. But we did choose to be parents. Like all of you parents did. ALL of you. If you hadn't chosen to be parents, you wouldn't have kids. Be honest. Unplanned pregnancies, or not, you wouldn't have children living at your house. Married or not. Heterosexual or not. Religious or not. Rich or not.
Unwanted pregnancy? Options: Choose to parent. Kill the kid before it's born. Kill the kid after it's born. Dump the kid after it's born in some remote location. Abuse the kid after it's born until someone takes it away. Let someone else abuse the kid after it's born until someone takes it away. Place the kid willingly in a home with people who don't view the child as "unwanted." Those are the options. Are there other options? Let me know. I don't know what they are.
To summarize:
1. Kill the child.
2. Watch someone take the child by force.
3. Be in control of who your child lives with by making the equally tough choice either to parent or to ask someone else to parent.
Birth parents (if this particular phrase is offensive, I'm totally open to using different language💕): None of the above options change the fact that he/she is YOUR child and always will be. All of the options above permanently affect YOUR child's story, however. And YOUR child will carry that decision with them forever. Forever. And if adoption is the best choice in YOUR heart and mind, those adoptive parents can't ever ignore/forget/run away from the fact that the child they are raising had another family first. You. Your partner. Your parents, siblings and extended family. You're all the first thing ever to happen to that child, from conception. NOTHING can change that. And any adoptive parents worth their salt will recognize, respect and encourage YOUR baby to love their heritage and love you, even in the midst of all the additional love and education and opportunities that you would hope your child would have.
So, angry me. We can't even function in this hateful world. But, as my incredible husband has taught me over the years: always put yourself in the other person's shoes.... Therefore, am I the hateful one? Do I hate my child? Would she actually be better off dead, never born, never conceived? That unique, precious, gift to the world that deserves every ounce of human dignity assigned to her? Sure, all of those lovely adjectives would make it seem like she's our doe-eyed, shining star we could never live without. But do I really accept her? Will she ever truly be "one of us"? Dammit. She IS our family. The whole kit and caboodle.
Olivia is only 2 years old, but, developmentally, the bonding period with us as her parent figures.... that's water under the bridge. Too late. Tom and I are her world. Mama and Dada. We are officially part of her identity as a child, as a human. Does that mean that her biological parents are nothing? Off the radar? To be ignored until she starts wondering why we have different skin tones?
HELL, no. I mean it. I won't apologize for my language. I am legitimately talking about Hell. That thought process is straight from Satan, himself. To ignore Olivia's roots, as I said- the first family she ever had, would be a sin. A real sin. Not just bad parenting or straight-up ignorant. To deny our child full disclosure of the story that is exclusively hers, given to her by God, would be equivalent to kidnapping. Selfish and disgusting and, dare I say: it should be illegal. Closed adoptions, that is.
You know, and I'll be rambling more about this in a future, Advent-y post, the Bible takes the time to run down Jesus' biological lineage, and it's not all pretty. There's more than one hooker in that family line, and it didn't get smoothed over by some biblical writers who wanted to portray Jesus' distant relatives to come across as squeaky clean. God, the Almighty Father God, Creator of the Universe, Omnipotent, could have kept the most precious creation ever right at his side for eternity. A triune Godhead brighter than the sun, unblemished, watching humans bumble around, killing each other and themselves. And that would have been fine. Righteous, even. Loving, even. God is love. He is just. He is perfect. But He didn't.
He chose to drop His beloved Son in the middle of this hot mess of a planet full of gross human beings, literally become one of us, 100% human, and allow him to be raised from infancy. On Earth. If that isn't the ultimate adoption story, you've got a screw loose. The real kicker is- Jesus' Messiah-ness became undeniable to all around Him. Miracles popping out everywhere. Giant crowds stepping on top of each other to listen to the wisdom that couldn't stop pouring out of His perfect mouth. Declaration of his Deity to the human race started even before He was born: he was so amazing- pre-birth, fetus-Jesus made another baby kick his mother even while his cousin was still IN THE WOMB. I mean, His dynamic, heavenly power was out of control.
I hope I'm not being sacrilegious, here, and I've already discussed this in a past blog post, but Joseph raised this miracle child as his own. Nobody knew any different, not until much, much later. But I can guarantee you that Joseph and Mary talked to Jesus about it His "first family." How could they not?? Kid-Jesus absolutely, non-negotiably needed to know who He was, who He really was. And God could have just as easily formed His Son from some dirt in the middle of a desert as an adult, let Him walk into a town and make miracles. No, that wasn't the plan. Jesus needed to "grow up." He had to have parents. He had to be "from" somewhere. He had to be a human that could connect with other humans on a practical level.
Okay, I'm gonna stop preaching the Gospel, now, and just leave that adoption story alone before I draw the attention of some catechetical types with a hundred degrees in apologetics and an in-depth knowledge of the early church... not that any of those are reading this, but, just in case. I am, after all, a Protestant-turned-Catholic, so I might be a little stuck in my make-it-up-as-I-go ways. After all, there's the tiniest chance that my uber-busy, author-nun-cousin might read it, and she has connections.
In all seriousness, I'm am in (and maybe naive) shock and holy horror at the sentiments of those who are so vehemently anti-adoption. I can't wrap my mind around it. Each person spewing hatred and bitterness and permission to have late-term abortions with zero guilt on that page likely represents an entire social circle that agrees with them. But, as angry as I am, I can't demonize them. We all live in a social circle that supports each others' certain brand of ignorance, and theirs just happens to be a particularly offensive, soul-crushing kind of ignorance. Imagine the damage even ONE person could do if/when coming into contact with a well-adjusted adoptee whose heart and mind have come to grips with and even made peace with all the difficult aspects of their story.
I can't. Imagine, that is. I can't afford to. I'll go to jail and lose my job, and my job covers Livvi's health insurance. And she needs breathing treatments, so..... family, first.
Family, first.
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