Of two minds...

It's been all over the internets as of late: Ethiopian adoptions will be severely cut back, by as much as 90%. Here is the skinny (taken from the State Department's Intercountry Adoption website)...

On March 9th, MOWCYA announced a plan to implement a reduction in case processing from approximately 50 per day to only 5 per day. MOWCYA has stated that this reduction is to improve screening of adoption cases while also devoting existing resources to other priorities on vulnerable children.

I've read so many differing reactions to the announcement: disbelief, anger, fear and sadness on one side, and relief that the Ethiopian goverment is doing something to combat the ever growing problem of corruption and fraud in the adoption process on the other. Me? I feel it all. I am truly of two minds on all of this. 

 

When we started the adoption process to bring home L back in the spring of 2006, there were only 5 agencies licensed in Ethiopia. It was still a small program and was only just beginning to change because of the slowing or cancelled programs in China, Guatemala, Nepal & Korea.  When I first joined the online groups as we submitted the first of our paperwork, families were getting referrals in a matter of weeks. By the time we had our dossier submitted in February of 2007, the wait for a referral had increased from 3-4 weeks to 5-7 months. One can only imagine how ill-prepared the government agencies of Ethiopia were to deal with such a massive increase in cases. As Ethiopian adoption became increasingly popular, more and more agencies jumped on the bandwagon. Some good, some bad. When we started the adoption process for E in the winter of 2009, the amount of agencies with an active Ethiopian program was overwhelming, and the rumors and stories of fraud and corruption were disheartening, to put it mildly.

 

I think what MOWA is doing is a positive step. In my heart I simply cannot justify 100 "good" adoptions if there is even one case where a child was taken from his/her birth family through manipulation or fraud. The Ethiopian government needs to take the time to build their infastructure so that they can review each and every case, making sure the agencies working in Ethiopia have provided full disclosure as to how each and every child has come to be declared an orphan.

 

Yet it wasn't too long ago when I was submitting paperwork, going through homestudies, and living in that horrible limbo where all waiting families reside. Wanting a child so desperately and having almost every aspect of the process out of your control is a horrible feeling. I remember the fear I felt when I heard Ethiopia had decided that parents would have to be present for court, thus requiring two trips and countless delays. We were lucky to squeak through before that was implemented but I have plenty of friends who had their lives turned upside down during that time. Sadly, that now seems like small potatoes compared to what is happening now. I think of all the families who are now glued to their e-mail, waiting for news from their agencies, trying in vain to get a grasp on the new timeline these changes will create. When they get a referral now, how long until court? After court, how long until an embassy date? 3 months? Six? Twelve? No one knows, but it doesn't look good when we're talking a 90% reduction of a process that has already slowed so much over the past couple of years. Add to that the backlog created each year during the rainy season closings...it's grim.

 

What hurts my heart the most? The thought that so many children will now live in institutionalized care for even longer periods of time. I can barely bring myself to think of my kids' life before they came "home" to me. It's painful to think that they cried and no one was available to soothe them. That they were hungry and no one was there to feed them. That they didn't always have someone there to read them stories, "ooh" & "aah" over each little smile and triumph, and hold them close when they were lonely or scared. Don't get me wrong, the nannies and nurses at L & E's orphanage were all wonderful. There certainly didn't seem to be any willful neglect, only the neglect that occurs when there are a handful of nannies taking care of dozens of infants and toddlers. They did the best they could, of that I'm sure. But even the "best" of institutionalized care is never as good as having a loving parent/family.

 

On a purely selfish level, I'm sad that the door to adopting again from Ethiopia seems to be closing. The choice made for me. Although my two amazing babies keep my life VERY full right now, I had always thought that, just maybe, we might head back for #3. Now that possibility seems so slim and I'm grieving for the child that might have been a part of our family.

 

So, lots of talk, but what can we do? Donate to non-profits like Ethiopian Orphan Relief and help make life better for those children that will be affected by these changes the most. Click here and donate now.

Complacency

Not too long ago (but long enough ago that I'm a wee bit ashamed this post was not written sooner) I attended a panel discussion on transracial adoption. Here is my big admission: I didn't want to go. I mean, I did, but it was a Saturday afternoon, the Buckeyes were playing in a really big game, kids were restless, hubs didn't want me to go either...etc. Thankfully the collective pull of my tribe forced me to change out of my stay-at-home-mom uniform, slap on some make-up, and head out the door to hear what two authors (themselves transracial adoptees) had to say.

I think a big part of my reluctance to attend was that I didn't want to hear that I wasn't doing enough as a transracial adoptive parent (and a part of me knew that's exactly what I would hear). L had been home for 3 years, B for 9 months and I was feeling happy and content with my kids and my mothering. I was right: a big part of the message I took home was that I was definitely not doing enough as a white parent to children of color. Yet I was also wrong: I expected to feel somehow shamed or scolded by the authors' message and I didn't AT ALL. Instead I left feeling inspired, motivated, and proud of the successes I have had in parenting my children of color.

Both Kevin Hoffman of Growing up In Black and White, and Rhonda Roorda of In Their Own Voices: Transracial Adoptees Tell Their Stories spoke candidly and with surprising humor of their experience as children of color in a white family. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the I-can't-believe-that-actually-happened moments. I haven't the time to write about specifics (alas, naptime is fleeting), but will just speak to the thoughts that ran through my head in the hours/days following the event.

I had become complacent. I had convinced myself that I was not only doing all the right things, but that there was little left to do. L's hair always looked great, we talk frequently of Ethiopia, she has lots of "brown" friends (L's word for people of color), and so forth. When did I become so focused on her hair? Not sure, but somewhere along the line it became the way I made myself feel like I was doing it "right." Sure I was white, but have you seen my daughter's hair??? What I realized is that while her hair may in fact help her to not stick out from other brown girls as a transracial adoptee, I had completely neglected to provide her with the tools to relate to other brown kids. What happens after the kids look each other oven and decide they all look the same. When the kids start talking about their family life and L can't relate. Doesn't understand because her family is white. 

What became crystal clear to me is that surrounding L and B with other transracially adopted kids (mainly Ethiopian) is great in the sense of them having their own special community where they have friends "just like them,"  but it is certainly not a substitution for finding friends (their age and mine) that can help them to navigate through life as an African American. I simply cannot provide that for them. In the same way I can never help my son understand what it is to be a man, I can never give my children anecdotal advice on what it is to grow up as a person of color. I can empathize, but I cannot relate.

It sucks to realize that, as a parent, you can't provide everything your child needs. I hate the fact that I have to go outside our family to parent my kids. But this isn't about me. I came away from that weekend determined to work harder. Reevaluate often the needs of my kids as they grow older. And to never become complacent.