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Archive for the ‘International Adoption’ Category

If you’ve followed my story where any of the various bits of it have been presented for perusal, you know that the first toe I dipped into the adoption pool was shaped like foster care and has a name that begins with T.

Through dire circumstance, T came to our house and stayed for a couple of years. Although the bonds that built between me, Mark and T did not start out all buttered with love and oozing schmaltz, we did get around to that pretty darned quickly.

Mark held out the longest, with “This is going to end in tears!” as the mantra he chanted until he threw in the crying towel and fell as deeply in love as I had. Of course, he was right … he actually is fairly frequently, but don’t tell him I said that.

Just after T’s fourth birthday — a fab occasion celebrated during a trip to the States that found me under one roof with daughter, granddaughter, brother, SIL, niece and nephew AND T, my youngest — things changed. A week after we returned to Seychelles, T’s mother returned from her galavanting and wanted him back.

With what every foster parent will understand at the root of my being, we stepped back and she stepped forward. They weren’t far, however, so we had some contact and kept up to date on how he was doing. Living nothing like the life style we hoped for him, he was at least healthy enough and reasonably supervised.

Shortly after, however, his mother took T for what was supposed to be a two week trip to her home country. I knew she wasn’t coming back, and she knew that I knew. The only one who didn’t know, or pretended not to know, was T’s father, a 70-year-old with many 20-something girlfriends who had no problem letting one slip away for “a few weeks”.

The scene at the airport was drama and trauma and nothing I ever want to live through again. T clung to me like kudzu to an oak, screaming his head off. I cried, His mother tugged. His father wore a bemused expression. The goodbye was horrible.

Amazingly, it turned out that T’s teacher at the school he began attending shortly after the relocation to this far distant Asian land happened to be a friend of mine … a woman who had taught in the International School here and was now teaching in one there, the right one in the right town out of all the places in Asia. Imagine how thrilled I was to learn that I could still follow his progress and send him letters and photos and such!

I was less than thrilled when I learned that his mother was pregnant, however, but not at all surprised when she and T ended up back here shortly after she delivered. T had a baby brother, but baby brother had been left in Asia never to be seen again. Her relationship hadn’t worked out and she didn’t want the child, so left it with the father … “didn’t want” being her own explanation, although hers was a bit more callous. T’s dad had money, and she was in need of that again.

Although concerned in the grand sense, I was so happy to have T back … not with us, of course, but within sight and some access.

By this time, Sam had joined our family, and then Cj. It took T a while to get the hang of how our family hung, but he figured it out without finding any slight to his own importance. Both kids were a bit young for play buddies; after all, what self-respecting 7-year-old boy wants to spend a lot of time with a three-year-old? He was kind and gentle, however, and Sam absolutely worshipped the ground T trod.

It’s time to say goodbye again, however, as his mother has once again decided to leave the country. His father is dead now, and a “new dad” has plans that don’t include a lifetime in Seychelles. Mom is already gone, and T has been left to finish out the school year with someone who doesn’t understand our relationship or how important it is to all of us to have time for a proper farewell. I will try to track him down before he goes, and will stop by the school if that ends up being the only way to kiss and hug this boy and tell him that we will always love him.

I don’t expect to see him again, but there is no telling what’s around any corner.

I can’t believe how many times I’ve had to say goodbye to this kid, and every time rips my heart out. I’d do it again anytime, though, if it means another hello first.

The boys 2006
My boys … well, two out of three

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A couple of interesting articles in today’s news take a bit of a different slant on familiar themes, and I’m thinking both will be getting a good look here.

First, this opinion piece out of Des Moines has inspired an unsurprising backlash of comments, all immediately recognizable in intent and history.

Open records for adoptees is the opening volley in the piece, but it’s anti-adoption pure and simple that is the target.

Fair-minded and informative, the piece has the temerity … and that is the first impression when such thoughts are actually written down and published … to take Concerned United Birthparents, Bastard Nation and the American Adoption Congress to task and suggest that much of their raison d’etre has less to do with registries, being opposed to the very thought of mutual consent, but rather nothing less than working to force an end to adoption completely.

Media sensationalism has led many to conclude that all parties in adoption are searching. Yet statistics in states with registries tell the opposite story. A study out of the Annenberg School of Communications found that the media exaggerated by 18 times the number of actual “searchers.”

The anti-adoption forces have enjoyed far greater success on the social/media front due to the unwillingness of reporters to dig beneath the surface and explore the agenda of these search advocacy groups. The one notable exception is Lucinda Franks in her New Yorker article around the time of the “Baby Jessica” case, when she exposed the role of these groups in the case. In addition, stories emphasizing grief, loss and pathology due to so-called identity confusion make far more interesting copy than those of content, secure adoptive families.

Bastard Nation is singled out as an organization the promotes, “the portrayal of adoption as a deceptive, hurtful and even pathological institution,” and the point is made that the “emphasis on adoption as setting in motion a lifetime of grief and loss has had a profound effect on adoptive placement in the United States.”

Call it as you see it, certainly, but a take like this, written together by an adoptee and an adoptive parent, feels like a breath of fresh air. The mainstream media running anything that hasn’t been ground to a miserable pulp by those invested in misery may be taken as a sign that the public eye has not yet been totally blinded or blackened.

From Canada, this story on an upcoming TV documentary takes a look at views on gay parenting in that country, and follows the efforts of a lesbian couple to adopt.

One hurdle in their process led the couple to file a human rights complaint with the Quebec Human Rights Commission that is still pending, but the government did change its policy on adopting from the US in 2006.

And a couple of important bits from blogland …

Here is some serious information on kids with Fetal Anti-Convulsant Syndrome (FACS), or Fetal Valproate Syndrome (FVS), so called, “Depakote babies”, from a mom who has spent years trying to figure out what her child was suffering from. She has a follow-up here.

And if you’re interested in open records laws, here’s an update from North Carolina on what’s happening there.

And, for what it’s worth, I am not against open records. In fact I’m all for everyone being open about everything and doing away with secrets altogether. With this POV, I wish there was a heck of a lot more honesty involved when it comes to specific issues.

Marley of Bastard Nation makes no secret of the fact that she’s not big on adoption … or children in general, for that matter … and although she’s not someone I’d want to spend a weekend with (and I’m quite sure the feeling would be mutual if she ever gave it any thought), I respect her non-namby-pamby-ness. It’s those who dress their negative stance on adoption as “reform” or “family preservation”, and yes, “open records” wooly rhetoric that shouldn’t be trusted.

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I’ve been working today on an article about the reduced number of international adoptions in the world in 2007, so when this from the BBC popped up, it demanded some attention.

Powerful visuals were created when kids orphaned by AIDS in Mozambique were given cameras and asked to photograph their lives. Subject choices are always so interesting when children are given a chance to pick representational bits of their world, and these shots prove that all over again.

As is far too often the case, there is so little possibility of the option of international adoption ever reaching kids in Maputo or any part of Mozambique that hope of such a cicumstance must never trickle down to kids like the ones involved in this project.

According to the US State Department’s site on international adoption, there have been only eight children from Mozambique adopted by Americans in the last five years. This is, no doubt, at least partially due to the residency requirements the country imposes that rule out any family that can’t relocate and become residents for the duration of the adoption process.

That’s one way to make sure the children remain trapped.

For more on the drop in adoption numbers, this story from the Daily Herald of Chicago sums things up, as does this AP story that ads quotes from one of my personal heros, Dr. Elizabeth Bartholet, Professor of Law and Faculty Director of the Child Advocacy Program (CAP) at Harvard Law School.

And speaking of international adoption, Ethica has released a pdf of their comments on DHS’s regulations for the Hague. It’s well worth a read, and I’ll be most interested in thoughts you might have on their take.

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No matter that I’ve just been burnt to a crisp by a faction of the adoption “community”, I can’t stay away. Having not posted any adoption-related news in days, there is so much catching up to do!

Authorities in Toronto are asking for the return of a 5-year-old girl who has been taken from her legal guardian by her birth parents and has disappeared.

Apparently, the child, removed from parental custody in March, has a medical condition that needs attention and there are concerns that the birth parents will not attend to her needs.

Here’s a strange story out of Kentucky from Fox … is that a redundancy? … about foster parents who lost their license after refusing to give up the part of their religious observance that involves the handling of live rattlesnakes.

You know … I don’t have much of a problem with that, actually, but it’s turning into an issue of rights as the couple sues the agency claiming a violation of their constitutional rights.

Go ahead and wrap a few rattlers if you like, I say, but it better appear on your homestudy!

There’s a spate of stories on efforts to get parents to straighten up and fly right. This one may not be available for long, as I can’t get the link generator to give me one that will last a lifetime, but is worth a read while it’s up.

Titled “Teen Parent Maturing Into the Role”, it is about just that … a fifteen-year-old with a year-old baby doing her best to raise her son and herself at the same time. She has goals and ambition and has a hard road ahead.

I did that myself, and I wish her the best.

From Scotland, we have this look at efforts there aimed at helping young parents kick their drug and alcohol problems.

The issue was blamed for the city council receiving a shocking HMIE report into its services aimed at protecting vulnerable youngsters. Inspectors claimed that the council was too slow and disorganised in the way it removed at-risk children from potentially harmful situations.

Councillor Marilyne MacLaren, the city’s children and families leader, said the service was stretched because of the rising number of referrals of children whose parents had drug and alcohol problems.

The plan is to throw £30,000 (almost $62,000) at the problem in one city, in addition to the £396,000 (more than $814,000) annually spent, focusing on issues of homelessness and establishing a “stable home life” that will “make it easier for them to stay away from drugs and alcohol.”

On somewhat the same topic, an opinion piece out of Boston suggests that a ban on spanking being discussed in Massachusetts these days isn’t the way to go because, “parents need help, not bans.”

I’d say the issue is more that children need help, and banning a swat on the butt from a loving parent does nothing to alleviate the beatings and abuse far too many kids suffer daily. In other words, is everyone missing the point on this?

The government of Japan is about to get into the swing of foster care, hoping that allowing foster parents to care for kids in some numbers will shift the focus from institutions to family environments.

Under the new system, one foster family will be able to take care of five or six children who are not able to live with their parents. Unlike in children’s institutions, where many children are taken care of, the system is expected to provide more individual care and a homelike environment for such children.

According to the ministry, there are about 40,000 children who need homes for such reasons as ailing parents, suffering abuse or being orphaned. About 90 percent of such children live in orphanages or baby homes, while 9 percent of them live with foster parents.

The new opposition leader in Australia has come out in favor of removing discrimination in many areas that relate to gay couples in the country, but will not support gay marriage, adoption or access to fertility services.

“Every Australian, as far as taxation, social security and those things, should be treated equally.”

But he rejected going further, declaring marriage as only between a man and a woman.

“It is the foundation of our society. I do not support gay marriage. I do not support gay adoption. I do not support gay IVF,” he said.

In other words, equal, but not that equal.

A young boy in China spent some time collecting bottles to cash in and donated the money to kids in AIDS villages in Henan.

Good for him, but with no good deed getting by without spin, he was awarded a national award on CCTV (China’s English language television news channel … the terrible propaganda machine we get here every day now.). Not big on subtle in that part of the world.

On the older parent front, this from the Sunday Times in London, a look at what can be the hell of fertility treatments past the age of 40, and the reality of how it works, or doesn’t.

I am put out by the way childless women of my age (41) have started talking breezily about IVF as though it were a procedure not dissimilar to Botox. IVF involves artificially inducing the menopause and then reversing it. It’s hardcore. You don’t just go and have it done in your lunch hour and then forget about it, and from what I observe it puts incredible stress on relationships (and sex lives).

The point seems to be to have your kids earlier. That works, but so does adopting them, even after your eggs have withered.

If you’re worried about getting along with your kids when you’re really old, a new study from Purdue University has found that relationships between parents and kids improve with aging.

“Some children reported pestering their parents more about health issues and being unsure if parents were ignoring them,” Fingerman said. “While we expected that children might feel demanded upon or stressed by their parents’ health declines, most of the participants focused on positive changes, such as trying harder to spend time together or talking more or feeling closer and appreciated.”

That’s good to know.

And finally, those with pre-birth matching might want to try to encourage an expectant mother to eat her greens, and not just for good health. New studies are showing that children born to broccoli-eating women tend to like broccoli, and that counts across the vegetable board.

You can also get a propensity toward veggies going by eating them yourself, then doing the adoptive breastfeeding thing.

If these tactics aren’t possible, you may just have to adjust to the fact that promoting the consuming of the green and leafy will forever be a mission. That’s been my fate, as Sam does not consider the possibility that anything green … other than lime Jell-O and Lifesavers … is food. I think it’s a safe bet that his birth mother didn’t come across many brussels sprouts during her pregnancy, and he does show no aversion at all at the idea of eating fried spiders.

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Funny how things work out. At the beginning of this month when I started the whole NaBloPoMo thing, I would not have suspected November would end up with an obscenity of the XXX variety, but it has.

It seems that budget constraints and an abrupt shift in editorial policy, or something, has prompted Adoption.com, one of my employers over the past couple of years, to terminate the contract of their highest paid and most uncompromising blogger: me.

I have not been provided with any official explanation; in fact, there has been no explanation at all no matter how many times one is asked for by me or other bloggers confounded by my sudden departure. A change in editors in October did signal changes in the wind, however, and the handwriting began to appear on the wall when I decided to discontinue the assistant editor role I had stepped up for.

Is it a money issue? (They did bounce paychecks recently.) Has my advocacy for adoption been more than the site is willing to support?

It most certainly can’t be my lack of dedication, as I have been the most prolific of all writers having posted hundreds of well-researched blogs over the past two years.

It can’t be a lack of talent, because I can put words together well and keep to topic.

It can’t be for lack of readers, because before Adoptionblogs.com began hemorrhaging bloggers and listing dead blogs by the dozen I was topping out at more than 100,000 hits per month.

Yes, I did manage to piss off a few people along the way. The looney fringe of the adoption community whipped themselves into a frenzy over some of my posts … and, yes, I can hear them jumping up and down, elated over my temporary departure from the adoption blogging world. (Enjoy it while you can, ladies. Oh! and those three guys.)

Should I mention that the new “editor”, someone who freely admits on her personal blog that she can’t write … Whose bright idea was it to put someone like this in an editorial position? … is a birth mother? Should I read anything into this? (I don’t want to. I really don’t want to. But so many of the personal attacks, the truly hideous assults I have suffered over the years, have come from that angle of the triad and I can’t ignore the connection.)

Since she removed my access to the blogs before I had an opportunity to adios my wonderful readers there, I’ll just invite you all to continue to join me here.

I’m rather sick of the adoption world for the moment, however … rampant abuse and nastiness tends to do that, and XXX feels as bad as it looks and leaves one sore … but, as always, I’m happy to help out when I can.

It is a bit strange that after writing so much about abuse in the world, I find myself the victim of those who provided the platform. I’m still trying to figure out what that says about them, but I’m sure it isn’t pretty.

I do know the real world, however … I’ve seen first-hand how cruel, how base, how downright evil people can be … so I should not be surprised by bad people doing wrong things.

No matter how old I get, though, I’m still side-swiped by petty meanness and a tendency to behave badly. I simply expect better of people.

I’m happy about that part of me.

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There are topics arrayed before me like so many tubs of ice cream at a Ben & Jerry’s, some even looking as potentially tasty as Chunky Monkey, but I haven’t the energy to dip.

You see, I’ve already written almost 2000 bloggity blog words … 1,811 to be precise… on three blogs, and although I do this most days AND manage to plop something here since it’s NaBloPoMo, today it’s simply not in me to wax on again about the fact that today is Mark’s birthday or the very interesting “All Things Considered” piece on race in America or the new blather on Angelina Jolie’s adoption issues.

If you’re interested in what I’ve written, you can check out the News Blog, the Older Parent Blog, or the International Adoption Blog.

I’m going to go for a nice, long shower and get myself smelling sweet, brushed and tidy so I can welcome my Birthday Man home in an hour. Once clean and dressed, I’m going to sit down and read to my kids until Daddy’s truck pulls up and we all run to greet him with smiles on our faces and joy in our hearts.

Oh, one thing …

This morning, Mark asked Sam if he had any presents for him. Sam answered, “Of course I do, but you don’t get anything until tonight!”

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Yesterday I published my 100th post on this blog. Given that up until last month I was posting close to 100 per month on the triple combo of my pro blogs, 100 since April seems a paltry contribution to the tonnage of wordage in the blogage, and I’m actually surprised at how many days passed with me thinking, “Nah. I’m wrung out.”

NaBlogPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) is bringing me here every day of November, although I have no idea why I’m finding this challenge so compelling. Blogging every day is not new for me, although blogging HERE every day is.

Not only is it easier for me to take a pass on any given day on Paradise P’o’d than on the Adoption.com site because no one is paying me to post whatever dribblets I manage, and the fact that the only commitment happens to be one of no consequence whatsoever that festers in my little mind, the lack of any specific focus on this blog often stops me in my tracks. It’s never a case of having nothing to write about, but rather of having too many potential topics and not enough energy to pick just one.

I could write about adoption issues every day using this space for angles that don’t fit under news, international adoption or adopting as an older parent, but quite frankly I really need to get away from the subject after pounding out 1500 to 2000 words on one take or another every morning.

I like writing about my family, but I fear that waxing lyrical day after day about how wonderfully happy and content we are in our little cocoon would become dull as stamps for all but a few regular readers.

Tropical living, Seychelles in general and island quirks are fun, but even I’m not interested enough to yammer on daily about fish, the weather and who may be sleeping with whom … the pop-topics in local conversations … and with any luck at all the horrible trauma of recent days won’t repeat any time soon, or ever.

So … 100 posts and counting. So much to say, yet so much of life outside my office calling for me to participate, to enjoy, to get the hell away from my computer.

Note the graphic illustration of the choices as they are presented to me whenever I sit down to write:

Sandra’s office

My office

Not my office

Not my office, and only three steps away

The beach at the end of the road

The beach at the end of the road

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In honor of our boy growing up, here’s an encapsulated version of how that happened.

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A birthday has been had and a boy is now five.

The event was a huge success. Sam was thrilled to bits about everything from the way his planned menu turned out … roast chicken, grilled red snapper, coconut crab curry, rice, eggplant chutney, pumpkin salad, roast potatoes … to the musical candle and sparkler in the shape of a 5, to the wonderful company, to the raft of gifts.

Mark’s family considered me cruel to the extreme for not letting Sam open any gifts until after dinner. The giddy charm of anticipation eludes them completely, so they consider placing wrapped presents in plain view to be slavered over for days in an ever-increasing frenzy of expectation and suspense little more than torture.

How many times over the course of the evening I heard, usually from my husband’s mother, some oblique reference to Sam’s fortitude and my cruelty over the apparently arbitrary wait to satisfy curiosity with some furious wrapping paper demolishing.

My mother, on the other hand, sent an email in total support of the enforcement of a period of anticipatory agony.

“It’s the best part,” she reminded.

Even Sam admitted as much under the influence of afterglow this morning, acknowledging that long longing made the revealing more fun and stretched out the excitement over a longer period than simple gift opening frenzy would allow.

Keeping in mind that many things kids in the real world take for granted and have seen time after time are completely unknown on this island, you will see in the photos that a Spiderman suit complete with built-in muscles was the cat’s pajamas … so to speak … although much too hot in a non-breathing polyester sort of way to be Sam’s pajamas no matter how dear his wish was never to remove this perfect fit of an alter ego.

(Sent from Utah by my friend Holly along with a bounty of Americana, she provided this piece de resistance … triceps de isometrics?)

A tiny china tea set from my mom was a big hit with Cj, who spent the rest of the evening pouring.

With my boy well sated, I’m figuring I now have a couple of weeks before the pre-Christmas mania begins to build.

Enjoy the photos.

Before the party

Sam and Cj before the party.

SamSpidey

Casual Spidey

Spidey pose

Spidey pose, Spidey pose, doing the thing only a spider does

Happy Birthday Boy

Such a happy Birthday Boy!

Happy Cj, too, with her very first tea set

Cj’s Tea Set

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News and announcements for families with Cambodian connections have been posted on my International Adoption Blog.

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