Sharing Adoption Information
Always a hot topic within the adoption community is what information -- and how much -- to share with people who ask questions about our adoption plans and decisions.
For some reason, S and I seem to be in the minority in terms of being on the receiving end of people questioning why we chose to adopt. Perhaps it's as simple as doing the math counting the gray hairs on my head. And, there was a significant gathering of friends to celebrate my 50th birthday, seven months before we announced our happy "we've adopted news." So I guess it's fairly obvious. It wasn't happening the normal way at my age, although I could have opted for some type of assisted reproduction -- embryo adoption, surrogate pregnancy, or the like.
One question we get that we don't mind answering too much is "Why did you choose Ethiopia?" That doesn't seem too over-the-top personal -- although I suspect people who choose China or Russia or the Ukraine or domestic adoption don't get that type of question as often as those of us who have chosen a country in Africa. It does give us the chance to enthuse about our experience, and educate people on the extreme need in third world countries. Clean water, access to medical care, vaccinations, transportation, education for all -- but especially for girls -- all desperately needed and so within our grasp to provide. I had book knowledge about the poverty we were going to see; but being immersed in it for 10 days opened my eyes in a way a book never would be able to -- like the difference between seeing a photo of the Grand Canyon and actually teetering on the edge of it yourself. It turned me into a crusader for the peoples of T's birth country, and I can only hope my campaigning has made some small difference, and perhaps kept some families together.
The other question is a bit tougher. "Why T and not his sister or brothers?" Frankly, that wasn't our decision, and we don't even know the answer. Why indeed? I considered asking when we met with T's uncle, but I knew we'd be recording the conversation and I was afraid of the possibility that the answer could negative and if somewhere down the road T heard it, he would be hurt.
If I had it to do over again, I would ask, because it's a burning question for T. "How come I have to come live here and learn English but not M or T or my little girl or my baby brother?" We have written a follow up letter asking that very question, but did not receive an answer. We have some guesses, but they are only guesses. And that's not much to go on. Our best answer is "We don't know." Its' the truth, as unsatisfying as that may be. We hope his family made an adoption plan for him out of love and concern for his well-being. But we are back to guessing and hoping.
Should people be asking these questions at all? I'm not of the mindset to stand on a soapbox and lecture people about what they should and should not ask about our adoption experience. S and I evade when we feel questions are too personal. It's inevitable that some people are going to say or ask inappropriate things in any personal situation. I remember when my father died being asked repeatedly, "What were his last words?" Huh? Really? Why would anyone other than those of us for whom his last words may have had some personal meaning care? Or "When are you going to have kids?" as the years went by. PERSONAL. There is no way to know the pain behind someone's childlessness.
Or to women who suffer miscarriages, "You can have another one." As if another one, if they can indeed have another one, will replace the one who was lost. Or, "Was this a planned one?" when a couple announces a pregnancy. So there is just a component that comes along with life of dealing with people who mean well but say clumsy things about life-changing experiences. I'm not going to change that. I would rather work on convincing people to donate to organizations that build wells to provide people with clean water for life or sponsor a little girl in a third world country so she has options other than a forced marriage at eight years of age.
We've been lucky that questions I consider too personal and statements such as "He's such a lucky boy" have not been asked or stated within earshot of T, so perhaps that makes it easier for us to evade. "We don't really know" and "We feel like we're the lucky ones" are catch-alls for us. However, it doesn't give us the chance to teach him how to respond. I worry more about what people will ask him as he gets older. "Why were you adopted and not your brothers and sister?" I can only imagine how that will sting. Like us, he can deflect with an "I don't know," but given how he already struggles with that question himself, I don't see it being an easy question to hear without having his own feelings about it resurface.
For what others have to say about sharing information about their open adoptions, click here.
One question we get that we don't mind answering too much is "Why did you choose Ethiopia?" That doesn't seem too over-the-top personal -- although I suspect people who choose China or Russia or the Ukraine or domestic adoption don't get that type of question as often as those of us who have chosen a country in Africa. It does give us the chance to enthuse about our experience, and educate people on the extreme need in third world countries. Clean water, access to medical care, vaccinations, transportation, education for all -- but especially for girls -- all desperately needed and so within our grasp to provide. I had book knowledge about the poverty we were going to see; but being immersed in it for 10 days opened my eyes in a way a book never would be able to -- like the difference between seeing a photo of the Grand Canyon and actually teetering on the edge of it yourself. It turned me into a crusader for the peoples of T's birth country, and I can only hope my campaigning has made some small difference, and perhaps kept some families together.
The other question is a bit tougher. "Why T and not his sister or brothers?" Frankly, that wasn't our decision, and we don't even know the answer. Why indeed? I considered asking when we met with T's uncle, but I knew we'd be recording the conversation and I was afraid of the possibility that the answer could negative and if somewhere down the road T heard it, he would be hurt.
If I had it to do over again, I would ask, because it's a burning question for T. "How come I have to come live here and learn English but not M or T or my little girl or my baby brother?" We have written a follow up letter asking that very question, but did not receive an answer. We have some guesses, but they are only guesses. And that's not much to go on. Our best answer is "We don't know." Its' the truth, as unsatisfying as that may be. We hope his family made an adoption plan for him out of love and concern for his well-being. But we are back to guessing and hoping.
Should people be asking these questions at all? I'm not of the mindset to stand on a soapbox and lecture people about what they should and should not ask about our adoption experience. S and I evade when we feel questions are too personal. It's inevitable that some people are going to say or ask inappropriate things in any personal situation. I remember when my father died being asked repeatedly, "What were his last words?" Huh? Really? Why would anyone other than those of us for whom his last words may have had some personal meaning care? Or "When are you going to have kids?" as the years went by. PERSONAL. There is no way to know the pain behind someone's childlessness.
Or to women who suffer miscarriages, "You can have another one." As if another one, if they can indeed have another one, will replace the one who was lost. Or, "Was this a planned one?" when a couple announces a pregnancy. So there is just a component that comes along with life of dealing with people who mean well but say clumsy things about life-changing experiences. I'm not going to change that. I would rather work on convincing people to donate to organizations that build wells to provide people with clean water for life or sponsor a little girl in a third world country so she has options other than a forced marriage at eight years of age.
We've been lucky that questions I consider too personal and statements such as "He's such a lucky boy" have not been asked or stated within earshot of T, so perhaps that makes it easier for us to evade. "We don't really know" and "We feel like we're the lucky ones" are catch-alls for us. However, it doesn't give us the chance to teach him how to respond. I worry more about what people will ask him as he gets older. "Why were you adopted and not your brothers and sister?" I can only imagine how that will sting. Like us, he can deflect with an "I don't know," but given how he already struggles with that question himself, I don't see it being an easy question to hear without having his own feelings about it resurface.
For what others have to say about sharing information about their open adoptions, click here.
Well stated and feels like the very same problems we encounter more often than we would like ---
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