Adoption

A Hole That Can’t Be Filled

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 2 Comments

I just found out today that Wanna/Layla House is closing.  This is the only home in Ethiopia that my children have known.  It is the one piece of their early history that they share.  It is the only tangible place they can connect to.  It is where we planned to take them to volunteer for summers in high school.  It is where I wanted my children to spend a gap year between high school and college.  But it will no longer exist.  It will no longer be the children’s home it was.

Adoption has changed in Ethiopia.  The structure of how children are cared for has changed.  When we first adopted Noah (in 2006 and then Zoë in 2008), all foreign adoption agencies were required to set-up and run a children’s home to care for the children they would be placing for adoption.  This was the setup for years.  This setup is changing.  The Ethiopian Government has made a move to focus on government orphanages and having agencies support Ethiopia’s orphanages.  I don’t know all the details, as I don’t follow the trends in Ethiopian adoption as we brought our daughter home exactly 4 years ago–I arrived in Ethiopia with my dad to pick her up on June 18, 2008 and arrived home in St. Louis with her on June 23, 2008.  Since then, I have paid less and less attention to what is going on in Ethiopia.

I never thought their Ethiopian home would close.  I just took for granted that one day we would be able to return and take our children there to see where they lived during their short time in Ethiopia.  All they will have are the snippets of video we have and some photos, as well as the relationships that I have kept up with the families of the children who lived at Wanna with them.

Something like this happens and it just brings home the loss that is such a deep and inherent part of adoption.  Once Wanna/Layla is closed, my children have lost a part of their history; a part of their story.  It resides in photos and memories of others, but for them it ceases to exist.  For them it is a chapter in the book of their life that has been erased.

 

What It Means To Be An Adoptive Mom

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 2 Comments

Today is always a bitter sweet day for me.  I celebrated my first mother’s day in 2006 (while Noah was still in Ethiopia) three days after we received our referral.  I remember wanting to celebrate but no one outside of my immediate family recognized me as a mother yet.  But I was one and I knew it.  From the minute I saw his picture and then later Zoë’s, I was their mother.

Being and adoptive mom (and I am so clearly identified as an adoptive mom-I am white and my two kiddos are clearly not white a all) means…

I am often asked where my children are from

I am often asked who does my daughter’s hair

That I share my children with two amazingly courageous women in Ethiopia who are also mother’s even if they aren’t raising their children

That I have to be hyper aware of how others treat my children

That I have to work hard to learn about racism and teach my children (especially my black son) what it means in our society to be seen as black.

It also means…

That I kiss their booboo’s and owies’s.

That I kiss them goodnight each evening and kiss them good morning each morning (usually way to freaking early).

That I get to laugh at their silliness.

That I get to snuggle them when they are sad.

That I have to punish them when they misbehave (and hit their brother/sister).

That I get to watch then grow up.

That I get to watch them get their first base hit and slide into home.

That I get to help them learn to write their name and read.

That I get to watch them grow (right before my eyes).

That I get to take them on their first roller coaster.

That I get to watch in amazement as they learn something new.

That I get to help them navigate the world.

That I get to dream about their future.

That I can sacrifice so they can have the best education and opportunities possible.

That I get to raise them and love them.

That I never forget that I owe a debt of gratitude to their birthmother’s for the sacrifice they made.

That I always remind my children of the courage and selflessness of those two women in Ethiopia that made us a family.

That I remember to honor two women in Ethiopia who don’t get to do any of the things I get to except dream about their future.

That I hope I am doing right by the women who bestowed this gift on me.

That I aspire to raise their children in a way that honors them.

That I ensure our children understand.

This is what it means to be an adoptive mom.  I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Happy Mother’s Day to my children’s  birthmother’s (an all other birthmother’s) and all mothers.  Mothering is the hardest thing we do.

 

 

How Meet The Robinsons Got My Kids Asking Questions

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / Leave a comment

Well, last night we sat down after Judo to each dinner and the kids wanted to watch SpongeBob.  I did not (yes sometimes we eat dinner around the TV–not always but sometimes–done judging?).  So I was looking for something entertaining and I noticed that Meet the Robinsons was on.  So I flipped to that and Noah was immediately interested and asked “Where is the guy we are looking for–the main character?”

We watched the movie until the neighbors got home and then the kids went and jumped on the trampoline together (I know what you are thinking–“don’t you know how dangerous trampolines are?”  Well I do, and I also know they are fun).  Then we finished watching the movie.  At the end, we had a long discussion about the premise of the movie and the idea of time travel and how cool that would be–and it took Noah a bit to understand the whole idea of being able to go into the future, etc.  But in the end put it together.

Then we talked about the adoption part.  Then he asked about his own adoption story–he wanted to know what I knew.  This is the first time he has really asked for me to tell him what I know–he was never interested before.  So we talked a long time (I will not tell the story here–as it belongs to my son).  We talked about how he was in the hospital and Bill and I were so scared that he wasn’t going to live and then we talked about how babies sometimes die all over the world from things that seem not to bad to those of us fortunate enough to have money and regular access to doctors and healthy food and environments.  Then Zoë wanted to know her story and hers is more cloudy than Noah’s story and a bit more sad).  It was a hard conversation, as you want to be honest but these kids are only 4 1/2 and 6 and adoption, while happy for us, is also very sad and confusing for kids–especially for kids who are adopted internationally.

After our talk, they were both visibly sad.  They didn’t know how to feel.   They were sad that there was their birthmoms who they wouldn’t ever know.  Noah really wanted to know if his was alive and I had to say that I didn’t know.  He said “I think maybe she died.”  I had to say I didn’t know, but I can see how for a child it might be an easier way to understand and/or cope.  We then talked about Ethiopia and the nannies who took such good care of them when they were babies waiting for us.  They talked about being excited to travel to Ethiopia and play with the babies and kids who are waiting for families.  They want to thank the nannies who took care of them.

It was such a great conversation, but it was so hard.  I am glad we had it, but I know it isn’t the last time we will talk about it.  These are conversations I always knew we would have and have had some version of over the last almost 6 years, but when we got that phone call 6 years ago today about a 1+ month old baby boy, I had no idea how complex this parenting thing would be.

I wouldn’t change a minute of it or a single choice we made.

World AIDS Day

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / Leave a comment

It is easy to live in our own worlds of work, stress, life and forget about those a world away who suffer because they are forgotten.  This day–World AIDS Day–is such an important day to our family.  This is a disease that has touched our family.  The touch is far removed, but I feel it against my heart, skin and life every day I look into my daughter’s eyes.

Today is a day to think, ponder and act.

This is a disease that we can help children be free of.  There is no reason why children are still born with HIV.  Other than greed and an unwillingness to help those who need it most.  The ones we so easily forget.

More here from last year

 

The Power Of Social Media

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 2 Comments

Sometimes all you have to do is ask.  Last year around this time Pottery Barn Kids released their holiday catalog and there was something many of us with kids of color noticed about the stockings.  All of the faces were white.  I know I wanted to buy my daughter a stocking but there were no girls that looked even remotely like her.  In a world where most of the images of beauty reflected back are those of white skin and often blond hair, I don’t want my daughter to think that she is not normal or acceptable.  I want her to have a positive image of her skin.  I also want this for Noah, even though he seems less aware or at least pays less attention to it than Zoë does.

Last year, many of us descended upon the Pottery Barn Kids Facebook page and demanded dark skin stocking for our children of color.  Yes, many of us are white, middle-class, parents of adopted children.  But I don’t think that matters.  What mattered was that we wanted our children to see themselves reflected back in a product.  I notice so often what kinds of images and messages are sent to kids and also notice that there are few non-white images for my children to identify with and draw from.

I have to say I was really happy today to look at the stockings and see these:

I will admit these aren’t perfect. The hair is a little straight for my liking–I’d like to see some curls in the elf’s hair and the angel’s hair.  But this is a huge step forward.  The color is not exactly right and is still a little light, but it is dark and it is progress.  I’ can’t wait to buy mine for the kids.  They will love them.