I'm the Mom!

Leo, with his friend, Kyle, at the zoo

About a week (or two) ago I began the first draft of this blog post. I had been avoiding it because although it's something I want to blog about, it's not necessarily fun for me. You see, recently a few situations have happened that reminded me that not everyone "gets" adoption or the fact that Leo is my son.

When I first brought Leo home in late January 2010, I was especially aware of the differences between us and Leo, and sensitive to how others might view them. When Robert and I look at Leo all we see is the child we love with all of our hearts (and hopefully he thinks something similar about us as parents - right, Leo?). Yet the adoption agencies all emphasize the "challenges" of international, interracial adoption. And people on the street and in shopping malls have wondered everything from whether my husband is Asian (why is this their business anyway?) to whether I'm "the nanny." Yes, even here in "progressive" California. And when you're new to parenthood, and come by it via a non-traditional route, and have doubted your own suitability to be a mom for years (don't all women who struggle with fertility?), these kinds of comments make you feel defensive, almost self-righteous, about your motherhood.

However, for some time now all has been quiet on that front. Perhaps it's that, with Leo now two and a half, we have an established relationship, routine, and life as a family. Perhaps it's that I just see Leo and he just sees us and none of us really thinks of the differences between us. Or maybe it's that I just tune out some of the stares and questions because I care less or am sensitive to not wanting to draw Leo's attention to anything. Maybe it's all of the above and more.

All I know is that a month or two ago I was at a local park for a play date with some other adoptive moms and kids. While I was playing with Leo and his friend (another Korean boy his age), another mom asked me, "Preschool?" As if to say, knowingly, "Oh, you're a teacher here with kids from your preschool?" At first, I missed the point entirely, responding, "Oh no, they're just friends." After a moment passed, I realized the implication.

She watched me interact with Leo and didn't understand he was my very own child. You could say this is an innocent mistake, and in its way it was. At the same time, I doubt she would have gone up to a white woman playing with a white child and said the same thing. She saw our difference whereas that's not even on my radar. Leo looks like Leo, I look like me, and we go together beautifully - at least in my mind. So I have to admit this stranger's question bothered me more than I wanted it to.

It was a small reminder of some of the challenges to come in the future, like when Leo introduces his friends to his parents and will likely have to explain over and over again, the way that we became a family. Adoption means you spend a lot of time explaining what others take for granted. And since adoption was my choice, and one I am so happy about, I'm generally willing to deal with that.

But Leo didn't choose adoption; it happened to him. Yet, he'll have to deal with all the consequences of that. I truly wish it weren't so. He is now of an age where he'll soon understand these kinds of questions, when he doesn't understand his own story yet himself. For the rest of his childhood, he'll hear the responses I give to strangers' comments, and he'll be asked questions himself by friends and strangers alike. I hope that he will have the confidence in himself and our love for him, as well as the love it took his birth mom to let him go and his foster parents to raise him for the first year of his life, to tell his story with truth and pride, and also keep it private when he chooses. I think of our story as a tremendous love affair. At least that's what it has been for me.

But kids can be cruel (and their parents ignorant), or the other way around I suppose, and I fear for the hurts my child might face in the future. More selfishly, I worry, "Will Leo one day, profoundly aware of our differences in race and life story, distance himself from me? Will he wonder if I wanted a blue-eyed, blond child? No, Leo. I embrace my whole history (sorrows and all) because it led me to you, my beautiful son. Will Leo know that? I couldn't imagine having any child other than my handsome, clever, funny, affectionate, joyful Leo. Wasn't it written in the stars?

That leads me to the second incident. Several years ago, Robert gave me a gift certificate for a manicure at a local salon. I finally got around to making an appointment last week and was excited to be doing something to pamper myself, a rare treat. The manicurist was a Vietnamese woman and we quickly struck up a conversation about Vietnam and Korea. I shared that I adopted my toddler from Korea and she said little. A few minutes later, when I made a comment about my husband, she said, "Why don't you start a family of your own?" I, a little confused and a little annoyed, said, "I told you, we adopted our two-year old from Korea." She lowered her glasses on her nose, looked up at me, and said, "But I mean your own child." I said, "Trust me, he is my own child." What I was thinking was, "Who the hell are you to suggest Leo is anything less than my whole world?"

How many times will I have to explain/defend my relationship with "my own son?" I hate this feeling that people like the manicurist think I'm kidding myself, that it's not REALLY the same, as if parental love is conditional on genetics. Don't get me wrong, I understand and appreciate the bond formed through the physical process of pregnancy and childbirth. I mourned the loss of the opportunity to experience that fully myself. Yet that loss has nothing to do with my connection with and love for my son. The way we were united is its own unique and deeply special bond.

So I guess I've answered the skeptics in my own mind. And that's something. I just wish that what we feel could be as obvious as what we look like. Something amazing happened the other day. I inadvertently set the house alarm off. When the alarm company called on the phone to make sure everything was alright, they asked if I lived at the home. My immediate response, "Yes, I'm the mom." I'm the mom? I'm the mom. I'm the mom! I'm the mom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :)