'its all about the love!'

upon learning of our co-worker's newly adopted 2-year old son, a server at work gushed at how happy he is for the new parents.  he went on and on about how great a father our coworker would be and how all it takes is love to be a great parent.  

'it's all about the love!' he proclaimed.  'nothing else matters! not color or culture or anything!'

it takes much more than just love to raise an adopted child successfully.  

i'll bet he has no idea the struggles that little boy will have to face and endure throughout his lifetime.  

i wanted him to know it would take much more than love - that love is not nearly enough.  

he went on to say how scary it is for adoptive parents as there are so many laws protecting birth parents.  that the parents could come back a few years later and decide they want their kid back just like that.  

i may be wrong, but wouldn't any decent person agree a child is better off with his biological family (as long as there is no abuse, etc.?).  sure it might be heartbreaking for the child and the adoptive parents if they've created a bond but wasn't it heartbreaking for the child when s/he was first put up for adoption???  and wouldn't it ultimately be better to try and mend that heartbreak?  

my answer is a resounding YES.  

personally, if my birth parents came looking for me three years after i was adopted, sure i might have cried when i left my a-parent's home but as an adult, there is no doubt in my mind or heart that it would have been immeasurably better for my mental health, social development, and self-esteem to be raised by people who shared my culture, physical characteristics, and language...but that's just me...

i wanted to smack him, tell him to stop being so selfish and narrow minded and to think for once of the child!  

i was enraged but couldn't find the words so i went back to work.  

i can't help but think how many other people must view adoption in this way.  i'm not against people celebrating adopting a child; i just want them to be sensitive and educated about what they are 'getting into' and to be open to idea it might not be all 'sunshine and daisies'...

what disappoints me more than this is my inability to express my concerns and advocate for that little boy.  why couldn't i?  my silence doesn't help him or any other adoptee.

i was raised by a family in a society that told me to be a grateful adoptee, in a society that is very hush hush and/or uneducated about the emotional difficulties surrounding the adopted child, in a society that has more support groups for newly adoptive parents than adopted children.  i've been guilted into silence - if i ever said anything as a child, all eyes in the room would say, 'shame on you for being so ungrateful!'  my comment or concern would go unaddressed.  i was not heard - just seen as an adopted child with 'issues' acting out.  maybe that's why i couldn't say anything.  i wanted to be taken seriously, wanted to be heard, but i was afraid my co-workers would see me merely as an adoptee with 'issues'...maybe one day i will be brave enough to find my words... 

that's so great!...

lately i've noticed more and more asian children (all girls...) with their caucasian parents, mostly at the grocery store.  

the other day a little girl asked her mother for some kettle chips.  

last week another little girl asked for some candy.  

fyi - both girls got what they wanted.  

i'm a catering chef and the company i work for just provided lunch for a baby shower.  

the woman didn't look pregnant, didn't look like she had just had a baby, and looked a bit too old to be pregnant (even with hi-tech help).  

i didn't know what to make of the situation, so i stayed in the kitchen and resisted the urge to congratulate the guest of honor. 

good thing too!  i probably would have asked her, 'so when is the baby due?'...turns out she adopted a two week old baby girl.  

and just yesterday i learned one of our servers and his wife just adopted a two year old boy.  

my boss ran up to me with a huge grin on her face to let me know the good news.  

and in my best fake happy voice, with my best fake happy smile, i said, 'oh my god!  that's so great!'  

as soon as i said it, i could hear the insincerity in my voice.  

hopefully nobody else did.  

sure, it's great a child has a home and good people for parents, but part of me felt sadness for the potential and likely struggles this boy would have to face.  

i wonder if i'll ever be completely, truly happy for adoptive parents.  my guess is no... 

can any adoptee???

my lost love?

i married a white man last september.  i want to believe that doesn't mean anything, but i know it does.  i love my husband, but would i have married him if he were korean?

i've heard it's normal to go through a transitional period where you reflect on the passing of your life as a single person as you enter life as a 'married'.  i've gained a whole new family, one i was able to choose and not one that was chosen for me.  so what did i choose?

for several months before and after our wedding i dreamt repeatedly about an ex.  

he is korean.  

he speaks korean, eats korean food, celebrates korean holidays.  

he is korean.  

we dated for almost four years on and off in college. 

he made me laugh with an overly corny sense of humor.

he made me feel truly beautiful for the first time in my life.

he wanted me to follow my heart and declare a 'fluffy' major i loved and not some sensible one my mother forced on me.

he made me feel my life was full of wonderful possibilities.

he wrote me love letters and bought me flowers.

he danced with me and wasn't afraid of looking foolish with his 80's moves and lack of rhythm.

in so many ways he was perfect, but now i realize he was 'imperfect' for me in one way.  

he is korean.

i loved him and our relationship, but i didn't love our innate differences.  from the outside we looked like a 'perfect couple', both young and in love, both with big dreams, studying together, hanging out with friends on the weekends.  but, there was something big keeping us apart.  he was 'korean korean', his parents wanted him to marry a 'korean korean', and i only looked korean.  

we spent long nights 'discussing' his family and our future, but in the end, i was the one who pushed him away.  he told me he wanted to marry me.  he had our life planned out.  i would coupon clip and work our way through his years in medical school.  then, he would work and i would stay at home with the kids.  we would be happy despite his parent's potential and likely permanent disapproval.  but i wasn't content to be an 'outsider' to his family or to make him an 'outsider' with me.  i could never live like that or push on someone i love.  i yearned for in-laws who would love me and accept me the way my adopted family never could.  we were happy and in love but somehow that wasn't enough.   i needed his family to accept and love me too.  

i catch myself wondering 'what if' i married him.  my life would be so different.  maybe his parents would have learned to love me.  maybe they could have looked past our cultural differences and seen the love their son and i had for each other.  maybe i would have enjoyed learning about my lost korean heritage from my new family.  but maybe not.  i will never know because i was too scared to try.  

and now i find myself struggling to find where i fit in this world.  i love living in the culturally diverse bay area where i comfortably blend into the background.  but if anyone does more than look, it becomes instantly obvious how un-asian, how un-korean i actually am and then i instantly stick out.  i look asian but i'm not asian.  to fill in the asian american bubble on questionnaires feels like a lie, but filling the caucasian bubble doesn't feel right either so i find myself choosing 'other' which somehow feels wrong too.

maybe choosing a life with this korean man would have been like filling in the 'asian american' bubble and choosing to be something i knew i wasn't.  and maybe that scared me more than his parents rejection.  there will always be a place in my heart for that korean man but maybe that chance to really experience my lost culture is what i am really mourning now.....

1 + 1 = 2

my sister and i were adopted together from korea.  she is three years younger than me, and ever since i've been reminded of that fact.  my whole world HAD to revolve around the fact that she was the only blood relative i had in the world, and even when she offended and abused me (which happened daily, sometimes several times a day) our adopted mother told me i had to be the 'big sister' and forgive her.  not surprisingly, my sister and i did not have a good relationship (and still do not to this day).  and, in my moments of anger and resentment, i've often pondered if we are actually genetically related.  

doubting this 'fact' has become more frequent since i've learned about some of the abhorrent practices of adoption agencies.  our adopted mother told us countless times that she specifically requested 'older siblings', because she wanted two kids (and didn't want to have to change diapers...).  so, if i were an adoption agency and i got a request for two related kids, what would i do?  well, i'd like to think i'd actually look for real siblings, but what if i didn't have any in stock?  hmmm....let me think...let me think...i've got a bunch of korean kids. asian kids look alike.  and they look even more alike to white people...i know!  i'll put two together, tell them they're sisters (and if they say otherwise - not that they could because they don't speak any english - they'd be sent back to the horrible orphanage) and send them on their way!  cha-ching!!!

i shared my theory with friends and family throughout the years, and not surprisingly every single one of them told me i had no reason to question it.  besides, would i really want to lose the one blood relative i had in the world to a genetic test? 

um, MAYBE!!!  

well, if you've ever met my sister, i'm really very sorry.  and, if you haven't, you should feel very VERY lucky.  

she is the most selfish and the most cruel person i've ever met.  yes, i'm biased, but trust me!!! 

based on our very different personalities and values, i would never guess we're sisters...

anyway, the most compelling argument for not doubting our relationship has been the fact that i was older and theoretically i would have known if she was my sister or not.  so, i bought that argument for a long time.  family even told me i treated her just like my little sister...

fast forward - i took a korean language class 6 years ago as an attempt to learn a bit about the culture i was once a part of.  

i quickly learned that i was not 'compatible' with korean culture as i had successfully become an outspoken, gregarious american.  

apparently, korean girls are more soft spoken.  

i also learned that in korea, people see their fellow citizens as family.  so, you might call your male waiter 'uncle' or a salesgirl 'sister' or an older woman 'grandma'.  

it wasn't until tonight that i thought, 'maybe i called her my sister because it was culturally appropriate!'  

anyway, i like this new theory and at my next opportunity i'm going to get a sample from my sister (probably hair as i'll have to do this undercover...) and get a little dna testing done!

common sense for most...

i just finished reading 'the last lecture' by randy pausch.  it serves as a way for pausch to leave a sort of legacy and life guidelines for his three small children.  much of the book lends great no-nonsense common sense advice like: 'tell the truth' and 'never give up' and 'dream big'.  

no piece of advice struck me as hard as one he wrote on the subject of parenting.  he writes, 'i also think my dad would be reminding me that kids-more than anything else-need to know their parents love them'.  

as an adoptee, i know my adoptive mother loves me - at least as much as she is able...but what about my birth parents?  did they ever love me?  i will never know.

i have read that the first two years in a child's life are the most impressionable.  i like to think that since i was adopted as an older child (almost 5) that my first two years were spent with my biological family (who of course in my fantasy memory loved me as much as any other child is loved), but because i was so young i have no memory at all of my life before adoption.  how does one live without knowing if they were welcomed into the world with love?  

there is a good chance that i was truly loved as a young child, but i don't know that for sure.  there's also a good chance i spent the first few years of my life in an orphanage...

this line from pausch's book has stayed with me for the last couple weeks.  i'm trying my best not to dwell on it.