Thankful for Adoption

I have about half an hour to write a blog post before the toddler and daddy get home.

This will be my third blog post within the same month woo hoo!

I am thankful for my adoption. My mom gave me a chance at life.

I am thankful that I knew with certainty that I was part of a family.

I am thankful that I was wanted by someone.

I am thankful that my mom had a small college savings account for me upon graduation from high school.

I am grateful that she believed in me enough to push me to succeed in school and in life.

I am thankful for my adoption because I finally had access to the healthcare that I needed.

I am thankful Mom could afford the really strong prescription lenses for my glasses. Mom is thankful that the lenses could be molded to fit in the cute pink frames she picked out for me when I was little.

I am thankful for my numerous ear nose and throat surgeries because I don’t get sinus and ear infections as much.

I am thankful for my adoption because it made me open to being a stepparent.

Looking snazzy on the light rail

My guys! Brotherly love!

Daniel was the first kid that I carried in my heart. My first parenting experiences were of being a stepmom before I became a bio mom.

He is looking (and acting) more like Bri-Bri every day. I’ll take it – fart noises as the dinner table and all – if that means he has another adult in his life that cares for him and loves him.

I am thankful even for the hard parts about adoption.

I am thankful that dealing with a disability has made me more empathetic to others with disabilities.

I am thankful that I can empathize with Daniel if he ever says that he wishes his life story was simple like other kids’ life stories.

I am thankful that I have learned a lot about coping and that humans are pretty darn resilient with the right resources as I’ve worked through different issues around my adoption (see other posts)

I am thankful that I have this blog to share such thoughts in hopes that it helps other adoptees and their families understand the full adoption experience.

I am thankful that I am adopted.

I am thankful that so many people have helped and continue to help me heal.

I am thankful that I am loved.

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Your first home

Little man will be leaving his first home in 1 week. We are moving to a new place so our place can get renovated. We are also going from a 3 bedroom to a two bedroom place because rent is expensive.

My little guy is moving out of his first little home he has known, but he has been so lucky to live there for so long.

In contrast, I did not experience this kind of stability as a toddler. By the time I was 26 months old, I had lived in two orphanages, one foster home, and had extended stays in the hospital. At 21 months old, I finally flew from Manila to snowy Denver, Colorado. I snuggled into my mom’s arms before she buckled me into the car to drive me to my permanant home.

My little man has lived in one place for his entire life. My little man has experienced stability his entire life. Every morning he enjoyed cuddles with his mom or dad. He had a steady supply of milk and formula in the fridge. Later, he could ask for crackers or cookies as he wished. My little man has never wondered if he had a home because he came home from day care to the same place every night. Every night, he could lay his little head down next to mommy or in his crib and feel safe and secure.

This is a gift that we have given him and I do hope we can teach him to appreciate it and not take it for granted.

Immigrant Adoptee

I had this nice long “How the view of my adoption story changed throughout the years” post to kick off November as adoption month, but in honor of the midterm elections, I’ll write a burning post I’ve had about immigration.

In the year 2000, I saw the line of people waiting outside the United States embassy in Manila, Philippines. My mom and I were part of a Motherland Tour group hosted by our adoption agency. When I saw that line, I knew I was one of the lucky ones because someone in America spoke for me. While I waited for a home, my mom filled out paperwork to make me hers and to make me a citizen of the United States.

As an immigrant, I have access to healthcare that many people in the world go without. I have a strong prescription that corrects my eyes the best it can while many around the world do not have access to basic eye care.

My son is a child of an immigrant. When I hear or read stories about parents crossing the borders with their children, I know they want what my child has: a childhood in America that gave them more than what they had in their country of origin.

To the immigrants waiting in line, I had to wait in line. My mom had to pay my way. Some of you have to do this. Others of you do come across the border quickly, but in exchange, you live life in fear.

To the immigrants coming to America, however you get here, you come because you want my life. You want to be the immigrant that achieves an education and gets a middle-class job. you want to be the immigrant who raises your children to not know hunger, fear, sickness from lack of medical care, or any other problem you are escaping from your country.

Our country is not perfect. I am not perfect in opening my arms to you. I sometimes resent you if you found a home here without waiting because I had to wait. My mom had to wait. My mom had to hire a lawyer and go to the state and federal courts to complete the adoption paperwork. I expect the same from you.

Yet, I look at my own story and my own son who will be a child of an immigrant and I understand why you come. Why you wait in line. Why you cross the border and live in the shadows of the legal system. You want hope for yourself and your children. You want what my mom gave me. You want a chance at the life I am living in America.