Living with Lupus
07 May 2012 1 Comment
In honor of Lupus Awareness Month, I wanted to devote a post to sharing my experience with the disease. Lupus is a chronic and incurable auto-immune disease that can affect a person’s skin, joints, brain, kidneys and other organs. A distinctive characteristic of the disease is a butterfly-shaped rash that runs across the bridge of one’s nose and both cheeks, called a malar rash. Other symptoms include, but are not limited to—joint paint, stiffness, and swelling; persistent, low-grade fever; photosensitivity; fatigue; chest pain; shortness of breath; confusion and memory loss. (http://www.lupus.org)
My lupus journey started about two-and-a-half years ago. It has been a journey filled with a lot of tears, frustration, and uncertainty. It is a journey that constantly tests my physical, emotional, and spiritual limitations.
When somebody asks me how I am feeling, I will often say “okay”. For me, it’s easier than explaining the chronic pain and stiffness in my joints that greets me every morning and sometimes stays with me all day. It’s easier than explaining the extreme fatigue and the tremendous amount of strength and determination it takes just to push myself so I can simply make it through each day. It’s easier than explaining why I can’t remember things or why I lose my train of thought mid-sentence or why I have to read things over and over again because I can’t comprehend what I’ve just read. I have found that it is easier to hide how I am really feeling and ignore the symptoms than it is to explain the profound affect this disease has had on my life.
Christine Miserando, author of “The Spoon Theory” (http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory-written-by-christine-miserandino/), explains it best: “The difference in being sick and being healthy is having to make choices or to consciously think about things when the rest of the world doesn’t have to. The healthy have the luxury of a life without choices, a gift most people take for granted. Most people start the day with unlimited amount of possibilities, and energy to do whatever they desire.”
People with lupus tackle each day, having to be aware of their limitations and constantly having to pick their battles. For me, working a full day sometimes means that I won’t have enough energy to make dinner, so my family eats out a lot more than we probably should. Deep cleaning the house one day means I will most likely be stuck on the couch recuperating the next day. Needless to say, my house doesn’t get cleaned well very often!
As if the disease alone isn’t bad enough, the medications can sometimes be worse. On any given day, I take at least 10 pills—on chemo day, it’s at least 19 pills. The days immediately following chemo day are often filled with nausea, headaches, and extreme fatigue. It essentially feels like a hangover that lasts for days. The medications help manage some of the symptoms of lupus, but at the same time, they can be harmful and may attack organs like your liver and kidneys or affect your eyesight. I often have an overwhelming feeling that the medications are doing more harm to my body than the actual disease. But, I know the medications are prescribed for a reason, and if it means I am prolonging my life, than it’s a price I’m willing to pay.
The worst part about having lupus is the effect it has had on my family. I worry that my sons will only have memories of their mom being sick. I can’t spend the whole day out in the sun with them because it will literally make me sick. I often have to stay home while my husband takes our sons to the park or to a movie because I’m too tired or not feeling well enough to go. My husband has had to take on the role of caregiver—something he vowed to do when he married me, but never dreamed would happen at such a young age. Lupus is also partially to blame for our no longer being able to have children. My husband didn’t choose this life, but he has chosen to stay by my side through it all, which has been a tremendous feat.
While lupus is an incredibly difficult and life-altering disease, I can honestly say that some good things have come out of this journey. I learned to advocate for myself and to trust my instincts. I learned that it’s okay to ask for help. I have also met some amazing and inspiring people—many of whom have become wonderful friends—who have lived with this disease for years. I cannot tell you how important it has been to have people in my life who are living with lupus and understand in a way no one else can.
This journey has taught me to count my blessings. I am blessed to have amazing friends. I am blessed to have bosses who have been extremely understanding and supportive and have allowed me the flexibility I need to deal with this disease. And, I am incredibly blessed to have my family who has been there throughout this entire journey and continue to support me and lend an ear on the days when I don’t have the strength to say, “I’m okay”.
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Counting My Blessings
11 Apr 2012 4 Comments
in Adoptee, Family, Parenting Tags: adoptee, Blessings, Family, Holidays, parenting
I never realized how much I take having a family for granted until this past weekend. My parents usually take their annual trip to Arizona around this time of year, so we often celebrate the Easter holiday with my husband’s family. In years past, they have held these amazing Easter celebrations with a huge Easter egg hunt and lots of wonderful chaos only a huge family could create. Many might find it overwhelming, but I love having the family together and watching all of the younger cousins run around and all of us just truly enjoying each other’s company. It is a reminder of the many blessings we share. Seeing the pure joy on our children’s faces and hearing their squeals of excitement is like food for the soul. For someone who was once an orphan, having a family—especially a huge one—is truly a blessing beyond measure.
Due to the amount of work that goes into planning such a huge family affair, my husband’s family decided not to hold the annual Easter celebration this year. Each family planned to celebrate the holiday on their own. Knowing that my parents were going to be out of town, I asked my brother and his girlfriend if they would like to join us for Easter brunch. Unfortunately, they had already made other plans for the holiday.
Faced with the realization that my family would be on our own for Easter this year, I started to become really depressed. For me, holidays are about spending time with family and loved ones. I didn’t want the holiday to become “just another day” for my sons. I have countless memories of wonderful holidays and birthdays spent with loved ones, and I could do no less than attempt to create special holiday memories for my sons, as well. Of course, my husband, sons and I would have each other, but I knew in my heart that it just wouldn’t be the same if we were to spend the holiday alone.
My husband and I talked about going to my family’s cabin, but quickly discovered that the forecast called for rain all weekend. I knew it would be a really long drive, and a stretch for us financially, but I brought up the possibility of our visiting my sister and brother-in-law in Chicago for the weekend. My husband loved the idea, so I gave my sister a call. They are often busy and travel a lot, so I was thrilled when my sister told me they were going to be in town for the weekend and excited for us to spend the holiday with them. I was absolutely over the moon. I had not celebrated an Easter with my sister in years, so it made this trip all the more special.
It was very much a whirlwind trip, but everything about it was wonderful. This holiday was definitely one for the books, and we created some amazing memories that will last a lifetime.
As I reflect on the whole experience, I think about the hundreds of thousands of children and teens who celebrate countless birthdays and holidays without their forever families. I think of those who age out of foster care and orphanages who don’t have a place to call home. It is a sobering reminder of how blessed I am to have such an amazing family and so much love in my life. While people all over the country are lamenting about not having won the most recent Mega Millions lottery, I am counting my blessings. As cheesy as it may sound, I have already won the most important jackpot in my life. My family is worth more to me than all the money in the world, and I am so incredibly blessed.
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Do You Want to Go Back?
12 Mar 2012 4 Comments
in Adoptee, Adoption, Homeland Journey, Korea, Loss, Transracial adoption Tags: adoptee, adoption, Homeland Journey, Korea, loss, Transracial Adoption
Do you want to go back?
It’s a question I have been asked numerous times throughout my life. No matter how many times I have heard it, I have to admit that I am always a little taken aback when people ask me that question. In a way, it’s a reminder that, while I am an American citizen, I won’t ever fully belong here. And, because I was born there, I am also a Korean citizen, but I will never belong there, either. I realize people mean well when they ask, but for me, it’s a really difficult question to answer.
When I was found abandoned in a subway station in Seoul, South Korea, I was crying and had bruises around my eyes. The back of my head was abnormally flat, presumably from not having been held enough. I was left without any identifying information, so I was given a birthdate of July 20, 1982, and I was given the name, Soon Duk Kim, which means kindness and virtue. I spent about a year in a foster home in Korea prior to my adoption. I have a photo of my foster mother holding me. I don’t think I will ever forget the gentle face—wrinkled, yet kind and serene—staring back at me from that photograph. It’s the closest thing to a baby photo I will ever have.
When I think about the way in which I was found, and when I feel the back of my head, I have a very difficult time believing that I came from a place of love. I look at my sons, both of whom have perfectly shaped heads, and I think about how I couldn’t hold them enough when they were babies. It saddens me to think about my first year of life. I know a majority of birth parents give their children an opportunity for a better life out of love. However, when I think about my birth parents, I have a hard time believing that they ever loved me. Many adoptees try to imagine what their birth parents must have looked like. Whenever I try to picture what my birth parents looked like, I don’t see faces. In fact, I have never seen anything but shadowy outlines of figures standing over me, but I have never been able to visualize a face.
For many years growing up, I actually feared going back to Korea to visit. My fear was that, if I went back to visit, I would not be allowed to leave the country. I know now that my fears were completely unrealistic, but those fears were very much a part of me for a very long time.
I used to wonder all the time. I used to imagine having another family in Korea. I used to imagine what it would be like to someday meet them and for them to tell me that they were searching for me and they loved me. Now, more than anything, I fear going back and looking at the crowds of people who look just like me and wondering. I don’t want to think that I might have a sibling or a relative living in Korea. I stopped wondering a long time ago because, now, I don’t want to know.
I have found comfort in the belief that there is nothing in Korea for me. I am well aware of the fact that because I don’t have knowledge of my birth name or my birth date, it would be nearly impossible for me to ever find any information about my birth family. I don’t read many stories about adoptees making their homeland journeys. It’s painful to read about the adoptees who found their birth families, and it’s heart-wrenching to read about those who were never able to find any information.
By leaving me without identifying information, I believe my birth parents were sending me a message that they don’t ever want to be found, and I’m okay with that. For me, it’s easier not knowing than feeling the pain of rejection again. It’s a pain that I don’t think I would ever be able to bear.
When my sons are older, I’m sure my family and I will make the homeland journey together. The purpose of the journey won’t be about trying to find my birth family, though. It will be an opportunity for my family to learn about the Korean culture together. For me, that will be a much more valuable experience than trying to find pieces of a puzzle that I was never meant to complete.
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An Adoptee’s Perspective: Is Adoption Worth It?
26 Feb 2012 19 Comments
in Adoptee, Adoption, Parenting Tags: adoptee, adoption, parenting
When I started working in the adoption world a little over five years ago, I was an absolute proponent of adoption. I don’t think there would have been anything anyone could have said or done to make me believe that adoption wasn’t anything but wonderful. Working in the adoption world can be difficult at times, especially for an adoptee. If I had a dollar for every time I have heard someone say something negative about adoption or attempt to discourage prospective parents from adopting, my kids’ college fund would be all set. The negative sentiments towards adoption can be difficult to hear sometimes, especially knowing that I wouldn’t be where I am today had my parents not chosen to adopt me. Working in the adoption world has brought a lot of my adoption issues to the surface, and has forced me to address many issues I had kept buried for most of my life. I’m thankful to have the opportunity to work in this field and learn about the good and the bad sides of adoption. It has also helped validate and normalize many of the feelings and experiences I have had throughout my adoption journey.
I believe in adoption. I believe that every child deserves a loving forever family. But, I am also well aware that adoption is not easy or perfect. Mistakes are made, and children and families sometimes pay the ultimate price for those mistakes. Working in the adoption world, I hear the stories—good and bad—and I see a system that works for some and has failed miserably for others. I also see children who age out of foster care or live their entire young lives in orphanages, and I am well aware of the statistics on the difficulties they will most likely face.
As much as I believe in adoption, I know that adoption isn’t for everyone. You need to be extremely dedicated, open-minded, always open to learning, and incredibly thick-skinned to be an adoptive parent. Adoption isn’t easy. It’s not a lifetime spent on cloud nine, nor is it always a dream fulfilled for people wanting to add to their families. Regardless of whether they were adopted domestically, internationally, or from foster care—all adoptees come with issues. No matter how old they were when adopted, it’s unrealistic to believe that it is possible for a child to experience the loss of one’s birth parent and come out on the other side completely unscathed.
The adoption journey doesn’t end when your adopted child is finally in your arms. The journey is one that never ends. It is a journey filled with joy and it is a journey filled with heartache. It’s the realization of one dream and the loss of another. It will sometimes feel like a rollercoaster ride that never ends. It is also a journey in which you may need to learn when to love and when to let go.
I have heard some parents say that they don’t know whether or not they would adopt if they could go back and do it all over again. But, a majority of adoptive parents have whole-heartedly said that despite the tears, the sleepless nights, and the sacrifices they have had to make throughout their adoption journeys—they still believe that it was absolutely worth it. If there is one thing motherhood has taught me, it is the fact that part of being a parent is experiencing heartache and knowing that you would endure it a million times over because your child is worth it. That’s how I feel about adoption. The system isn’t perfect, parents aren’t perfect, and children aren’t perfect, but it doesn’t mean that we should stop finding forever families for children and teens and it doesn’t mean that we should stop believing in the good things adoption has to offer.
My story as an adoptee hasn’t been picture perfect. I didn’t talk to my parents very much about being adopted or all of the teasing and bullying I endured growing up. I think it was my way of protecting them. As a teenager, I acted out and did things I am not proud of and put myself and my parents through hell and back. I went through a phase of not really caring about anything, much less myself. In doing so, I thoroughly tested my parents’ love and support for me. But, no matter what I put them through and no matter how much I pushed them away, my parents were always there. Looking back at that period in my life, I am so thankful that I had a place to call home and for parents who were there to pick me up when I hit rock bottom.
Even though adoption isn’t perfect and it’s not always a fairytale, as an adoptee, I can unequivocally say that adoption is worth it. I don’t know what I would do without my parents’ love and support. My parents and I talk pretty much every day. Some days I don’t feel like talking, and other days I am off in another world, but I always look forward to those daily phone calls. I find comfort in knowing that I can just pick up the phone when I’m having a rough day and know that I will always have someone to talk to. I am blessed to have a family to celebrate holidays and birthdays with. Without adoption, none of this would have been possible, and I would not be the person I am today.
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Tales from the Wrecking Crew
20 Feb 2012 2 Comments
in Fun, Parenting Tags: Fun, parenting, Wrecking Crew
I am a pretty boring person with a not-so-boring life, due in large part to my sons, whom I often lovingly refer to as the “Wrecking Crew”. My sons make me laugh so much, and I thought I’d lighten things up a little this week and share some of their cute and funny moments with all of you. Hope you love these as much as my husband and I do!
*****
At Caiden’s 4-year well-child appointment, the doctor was talking to him about why he wears a helmet while riding his bike. She told him that it “protects [his] coconut.” Little did she know that “coconuts” mean something totally different in our house! The look he gave her was priceless!
*
Caiden: Mama, can you take my temp? I keep burping.
AJ: Yeah! He was burping and burping all night and I couldn’t even sleep!
*
AJ: What does “yo no se” mean, Mama?
Me: Well—
AJ: Oh, I know! It means “Bon Appetit!”
Umm…not quite, little guy!
*
Me: Why are you mad at the world today, Bubba?
Caiden: Because I hate it. I only like the house!
*
So, I walk into the room and notice Caiden shaking his butt around and doing plié-like moves. I ask him what he is doing and he says, “My pee-pee’s all twisted, Mama! I’m trying to fix it!”
*
AJ and I were walking to the bus stop one morning when he says, “Mama, be careful so you don’t step on the cracks!” To which I respond, “Why? What will happen if I do?” AJ gets really quiet, and then in a low voice says, “I don’t want to talk about it…”
*
Caiden: Hey, AJ! Do you want some candy?!
AJ: Well, I am a bit famished…
*
AJ: I love you, Mom, ‘cuz you make yummy soup!
Me: What if I made yucky soup? Would you still love me?
AJ: Umm, sure. I guess maybe if you added some carrots…
*
Caiden: Mama! One word – “I love you!”
*
Caiden: Twinkle, twinkle little star. Now I know my ABCs.
*
I was helping AJ get dressed and he was trying on some pants that ended up being way too big for him.
AJ: Can you at least pull my pants tighter?
Me: Why?
AJ: ‘Cuz – pants on the ground, pants on the ground! Lookin’ like a fool with your pants on the ground!
*
AJ: Hey, Caiden! You’re going to be 5 soon!
Caiden: No! I don’t want to be 5.
Me: Why not? Why don’t you want to be 5?
Caiden: ‘Cuz I just want to be me!
*
AJ: Hey, Caiden! We’re having turkey for dinner!
Caiden: What’s a turkey?
AJ: It’s a man-eating chicken.
*
Caiden was having a rough night and spent some time in time-out. When time-out was over, he came over to me and gave me a hug. And in the midst of his apologies and tears, he says, “Mama, I really, really love you. (sniff) And Mama, I really love your cooking. (whimpers) I love all of the food that you make. (sniff)”
*
We took the boys out for dinner and Caiden ordered a Cherry Bomb Limeade to drink. Towards the end of dinner, I hear Caiden go, “Ka-Pow!” I asked him why he made that noise. He replied, “That was the cherry bomb blowing up in my tummy!”
*
AJ: Hey, Caiden! Do me a solid and give me some of those chips! ~ August 28, 2011
*
Me: Geez! I live in a house with all boys!
Caiden: No, Papa’s not a boy.
Me: Oh, yeah? Well, what is he then?
Caiden: She’s a man.
*
Caiden: Did you know I like peanut butter and jelly?
Me: Yes, of course!
Caiden: Do you know everything about me?
Me: Yes, because I’m your mom!
Caiden: You’re the best! You’re the best mom I ever had!
*
Caiden: Hey, Mama! I have a secret for you! (whispers) I love you so much and can I have a hug and a
*
Having asked Caiden literally 10 times to get ready, I had finally reached my level of frustration where I started yelling. All of a sudden, Caiden stops, looks me straight in the eye, and says, “(sigh) Okay, Mom…Now, I need you to calm down and ask me that question again.” Caiden = 1, Mama = 0…
*
Me: Great choice for your birthday dinner, Caiden!
Caiden: Thank you, Sweet Lips!
*
AJ: I love soft tacos!
Me: You love soft tacos more than me?
AJ: (thinking) Umm, no…I love you first…then soft tacos.
*
The boys were fighting and this is how the conversation went when I tried to stop them:
Me: Okay, you guys need to stop.
AJ: But, he started it!
Me: Yes, and who is three years older?
(the boys stop and look at each other, and then look back at me)
Caiden: You?
*
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The Waiting Game: Parenting Children with Special Needs
10 Feb 2012 17 Comments
in Adoption, Parenting, Special Needs Children Tags: adoption, parenting, Parenting Special Needs Children
I am sitting here literally in tears as I write this. I love my boys more than life itself, and I would do anything for them. Both of my kids have special needs—my oldest has Tourette’s Syndrome, ADHD, learning disabilities, and sensory issues; my youngest has ADHD, sensory issues, and undiagnosed behavioral and/or personality issues. My sons are really good kids. They are both very sweet and their antics and the things that come out of their mouths are pure comedy gold. They bring so much joy to my life. They are my everything.
The biggest issue lies with my youngest son, who recently turned six. From day one, he has always been a very strong-willed and intense little guy. He is very curious about the world and is incredibly smart. He is very sensitive and feels emotions with every fiber of his being. A few years ago, I noticed that he was having major mood swings and would experience violent outbursts, usually resulting in his hitting or punching his brother, who is three years older chronologically, but emotionally, pretty similar in age. A little over a year ago, my youngest son’s violent outbursts turned into rages. His rage episodes usually involved my taking half-hour to hour-long beatings from him, in which I was punched, kicked, spat on, scratched…you name it. Fortunately, my son doesn’t rage often, but when it happens, it has occasionally gotten to the point where I am scared out of my mind and on the verge of calling the police on my own son.
In addition to his rages, my son goes after his brother quite often. Losing a game, not being able to pick the movie they are watching, not being able to play with the toy he wants, etc.—often results in my son hitting, punching, and screaming at his brother. This happens on an almost daily basis. I can handle the outbursts, but I’m not okay with one of my sons being physically and emotionally harmed. My younger son is literally like a ticking time bomb, and you never know what you are going to get. Unfortunately, the fear of the unknown with him usually results in my older son really getting the short end of the stick in terms of having to give in and not having as much attention paid to him because we are constantly having to address our younger son’s behaviors. This is something my husband and I are working on, but it has been an uphill battle, to say the least.
This goes beyond my younger son acting “bratty”. I can feel it in my gut that there is more going on than my son being simply “strong-willed”. I have a pretty clear understanding of child development, and I have pretty realistic expectations for my children. My husband and I keep things pretty structured at home and we keep things consistent in terms of the boys’ daily routines. We always give the boys 15-20 minutes advance notice when they need to get ready for school, or if we are leaving to go somewhere, or if they need to get ready for bed. We don’t believe in corporal punishment, so as you can imagine, my youngest ends up in timeout on an almost daily basis. We have tried taking things away, timeout (with the duration always appropriately corresponding with the boys’ chronological ages), positive reinforcement, and everything in between as methods of discipline for our sons.
My younger son is normally incredibly sweet, and I often refer to him as my little “cuddlebug” because he is so loving and wonderful. His acting out behaviors have been really distressing because I know what a great little guy he is, and I don’t know where his anger comes from. My husband and I have provided our sons with a loving home environment in which they are allowed to be kids. They are happy and healthy and they don’t want for anything. We laugh together and we hug often. We have provided a good life for our boys thus far.
My attempt to get services for my younger son has been a long process. The process began with trying to get help for his ADHD. He was incredibly impulsive, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t follow directions, and he couldn’t even sit through an entire meal without having to get up several times to run around between bites. We tried play therapy, to no avail, and were eventually able to start him on medication. When the raging started, I immediately worked to obtain psychological services for him. I called an organization that has been known to be one of the best psychological service providers for children in the state, and I was able to get him on the waiting list. We waited for seven long months before being seen by a practitioner within that organization. My son started seeing an early childhood counselor there, and after a few sessions, I was told that there was nothing she could do for him and she wanted to stop seeing him. My son’s ADHD was preventing him from being able to answer questions and follow instructions during the sessions, and it was affecting her ability to work with him. Recently, he underwent a psychological evaluation through the same organization. Today, I was told by the psychologist that there was nothing developmentally or cognitively wrong with my son—something I was already well aware of. When I pressed for an answer as to what is behind his behaviors, I was told that he is too young to be evaluated for behavioral issues, and I have to wait a year or two before anything can be done to help him.
You can probably imagine my frustration at this point. There is a 3-4 month wait to get my son into Occupational Therapy, which is pretty much the only option we have left. I am doing everything I can to find services for my son, and everywhere I turn, I am being told to wait, or that nothing that can be done to help. I know there is something wrong—I can feel it with every fiber of my being. There is something clearly going on with my son, and nobody is willing or able to help. I love my children more than anything and I love being a mom, but I need help. When you have a child with explosive behaviors, it takes everything out of you. You have days when you feel like you just can’t do it anymore. You have days when you are literally getting the crap kicked out of you, and you look at your child and think, “I love you so much—I will love you through the good times, and I will love you when it hurts—but I just don’t like you right now.” As a mom, it’s difficult to imagine not always liking your child, but when you are in the moment and you are being hurt both physically and emotionally by your child—that is your reality. It doesn’t mean that you don’t love being a mom, and it doesn’t mean that you are a bad parent. Sometimes you just need help, and it is heartbreaking and overwhelming when you feel like you are alone in this. I am trying to be the best mom I can be for my son, and I feel like my best isn’t enough for him right now, and it absolutely breaks my heart.
I have done everything I can do at this point, and I guess all I can do is wait and keep loving my son. But, I sometimes wish those service providers who say, “You need to wait 1-2 years before we can help you,” could walk a mile in our shoes and see how “easy” waiting can be. I feel like I’m being thrust into the middle of a game I don’t want to play, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
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The Beauty in Being Different
03 Feb 2012 10 Comments
in Bullying, LGBTQ, Parenting, Sexual Orientation Tags: Bullying, LGBTQ, One Town's War on Gay Teens, parenting, Sexual Orientation
I read an article today about my hometown, and it wasn’t pretty. The article tells the story of a school district that secretly passed a policy requiring all school personnel to take a neutral stance on issues of homosexuality. It is essentially a form of the military’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. It also allows school personnel within that district to turn a blind eye to complaints from students who are being bullied due to their sexual orientation. This is a school district that recently saw nine of its students take their own lives within a two-year period.
This article made me think of a heart-wrenching episode of Grey’s Anatomy in which a lesbian character’s father brings her family’s priest to the hospital in an effort to “pray away the gay.” In that same episode, the character’s girlfriend has a conversation with the father in which she tells him about the day she came out to her own father. She had never been interested in boys while growing up, and her parents knew, but yet she still worried that her father would kick her out upon hearing the news. Instead, when she told her father, his response to her was, “Are you still who I raised you to be?”
I believe that homosexuality is not a choice, but something which is innate. I have friends and family members who are gay and bisexual, and they are amazing and wonderful people. I believe they are who their parents raised them to be, regardless of the life partners they have chosen. People of color are not required to hide the color of their skin from the world, so people who identify as LGBTQ should not be shamed into keeping their sexual orientation a secret. They are people, and I believe the very thing that makes them “different,” is one of the many things that makes them beautiful.
As the episode of Grey’s Anatomy states, I strongly believe that you can’t “pray away the gay,” just as you can’t pray away the color of your skin. Believe me, I’ve tried. As a child, I spent many nights secretly praying to God, asking Him to make me blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and Caucasian, because I didn’t want to be different anymore. Twenty-plus years later, and I am still as Asian as they come.
I endured a fair amount of bullying growing up, and have even experienced it as an adult. Kids were mean when I was younger, but they can be downright vicious now. In an age where people can disguise themselves behind a computer screen or a phone, the attacks on others have escalated to unimaginable heights. I have heard and seen teenagers using racial and anti-gay slurs like they are every day words. These words should NEVER be a part of anyone’s vocabulary, PERIOD. Words can cut like a knife, and they can absolutely be the catalyst that can change a person’s life forever.
It is NOT okay that nine teenagers in one school district were made to feel so badly about themselves—so ashamed—that they would take their own lives. I have been there. I know what it feels like to hit rock bottom. I know what it feels like to get to a point where you think you are worthless and the world would be a better place without you. It’s a horrible place to be, and I cannot even begin to imagine what these teenagers must have gone through to get them to this place.
Kids don’t come with manuals, but parents should be equipped with open minds and open hearts. Parents should never use racial or anti-gay slurs around their children, or anywhere, for that matter. Children are incredibly perceptive, and pick up on a lot of things you would never imagine they would. They put an incredible amount of weight on the words and actions of their parents. If you, as a parent, don’t like the color of someone’s skin, or their sexual orientation, that’s your problem, but don’t make it your child’s problem. Children should be taught that everyone is different, and that those differences are part of what makes them beautiful. People should be accepted and admired for their differences—never bullied or belittled. Complete acceptance of differences is ideal, but at the very least, it is important that parents attempt to maintain open minds when teaching their children about the world and helping them to form their beliefs. The world will be a much better place when people learn to see the beauty in being different. And this message needs to begin at home.
** Please note that this post is not meant to offend anyone. I feel strongly about this issue, and felt the need to address this article. **
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Parenting the “Other” Race Child
27 Jan 2012 10 Comments
in Adoptee, Biracial, Parenting Tags: adoptee, Biracial, parenting
As a parent, your world revolves around your children. As much as it’s the greatest job in the world, it’s also one of the most difficult.
Parents make many decisions on a daily basis that affect their children. Recently, a couple from Canada revealed their child’s gender after concealing it for five years. They raised him in a gender-neutral environment with hopes that in doing so, it would allow him to develop his own personality and be who he wants to be, regardless of societal expectations. They revealed their son’s gender because they felt it would be too difficult to conceal now that he is starting school.
Some of the decisions we make for our children have the potential to be life-changing, so we make our decisions carefully and with their best interests in mind, and hope for the best. My family lives in a large and very diverse city. My sons are Mexican and Korean. They are too young to fully understand what it means to be biracial, but my husband and I are doing our best to ensure that our sons know who they are and where they came from.
A few years ago, we found a great elementary school for our oldest son, and we were so excited for him to start this new chapter in his life. I completed the enrollment application and met with a staff person at the student placement center. She took my son and me to a room where we introduced ourselves and she looked over our application. She told me everything looked good, but I needed to change my answer to the race question, where I had checked the Asian/Pacific Islander and Hispanic boxes. She slid the application across the table towards me, and proceeded to nonchalantly tell me that I was allowed to only check one race for my son. I told her that he was an equal percentage of both races, and asked her how I was expected to choose one for him. She then proceeded to tell me, “If you don’t choose one, I’ll make the decision for you.” I must have had a completely panicked—or absolutely livid—look on my face, because she told me I could take some time to decide, and then took my son to a different room for school readiness testing.
I remember sitting at the tiny round table with the tiny human chairs—my mind racing about a mile a minute. My husband and I had spent 5 years raising a proud, biracial son, and with one flick of my pen, I was expected to change my son’s racial identity in the eyes of the school system. In doing so, it felt like I was telling my son that half of his identity didn’t matter. Not wanting to allow a complete stranger to make such an important decision for my son, I checked the “Asian” box. My oldest son looks very Asian, and my youngest son looks more Latino. So, I decided that I would check the box for each of my sons that corresponded with their outer appearances. When my youngest son started school, I checked the “Hispanic” box for him.
It’s incredibly difficult being a parent of biracial children and raising them to be proud of their uniqueness, when society refuses to acknowledge who they are as a whole. Because they don’t fit neatly into that box, they will always have to choose one, or check “Other”, when answering the race question. I worry about the implications of this, as they grow and shape their own understandings of their racial identity. Sadly, my sons know more about their Mexican culture than they ever will of their Korean culture.
Being biracial will also most likely affect the interactions my sons have with other Asians. We live in an area that is heavily populated with single-race Asian families. When we are out in public, which is fairly often, my family endures angry stares and whispers from other Asians. I am a disgrace—an outcast—to the Asian community because I married outside of my race. I don’t know my language or culture of origin, which further drives the wedge between my family and the Asian community. We have experienced some of this with the Latino community, but they have been a lot more accepting of our biracial family.
Right now, my sons are completely oblivious to the stares and the whispers, but I know there will come a time when they will begin to realize what is happening. We won’t always be able to protect them from any potential backlash, but we will work hard to arm them with the tools to cope with being different in the eyes of people who look just like them.
Race does matter. My sons have a right to be proud of both of their races, but society and their school system tell them otherwise. The very institution that teaches my sons about race, culture, and diversity is the same institution that tells my biracial sons that they are only allowed to honor one of their races. Imagine a hospital telling a new mother of twins that she can only choose one to bring home with her. Imagine that hospital worker telling her that if she can’t decide, the decision will be made for her. I realize this is an extreme example, but the feeling of heartbreak you feel when imagining such a situation is the very feeling a parent of a biracial child feels when they are told their child is only allowed to identify as one race. It’s hurtful and potentially very damaging, and it needs to change.
We, as a society, have come a long way in terms of racial and cultural competence, but we have so much more to learn.
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Ode to the Hubster
21 Jan 2012 2 Comments
We live in a world that tends to be pretty rough on men when it comes to relationships. Sure, they can be clueless at times, but everyone has their moments, regardless of their gender. I know I’ve certainly had my share of them! You’ll read a lot about my kids in future posts, but I wanted to dedicate this one to my husband.
My husband and I were 22 and 20, respectively, when we married almost 10 years ago. We had been engaged for almost a year-and-a-half and planned to marry when we both finished college, but a surprise little one on the way sped up the process a bit! I was just over 6-months pregnant the day we made the promise to always love and be there for each other through the good times and the bad. We were not only making that promise to each other, but also to the little one in my tummy (and to our future little ones) who would change our lives forever.
Marriage is not easy by any means. If someone tells you anything different, they are lying through their teeth! It takes work, and it is chock-full of ups and downs. My husband and I have had a lot of good days, but we have also had days when we’ve had to say, “I love you, but I just don’t like you right now.” And that’s okay!
I am not an easy person to be married to—not by any means. I came with adoption-related issues up the wazoo. I have chronic health issues. When I was on prednisone, I would eat everything in sight and I was mean. I hated who I was while on that medication. It was horrible, and I was horrible, but my husband stuck by me through it all. He didn’t necessarily like me that much during that period of time, but, by golly, he was there for me!
I deal with depression that rears its ugly head from time-to-time. It appears out of the blue, and there’s not always an explanation for it, but my husband always just knows to hug me a little tighter and a little longer when it happens. I am a very sensitive person, so when I’m having a rough day where I’m angry or frustrated or feeling bad about something, he is my voice of reason and my source of comfort. He has taken everything I have thrown at him in stride.
He tells me I’m beautiful, even when I look like death and haven’t showered in days. He brings home Sprite and saltine crackers when I’m not feeling well (which is often). He makes me laugh. He takes the kids to a movie or to go play when he knows I need a break. He is an amazing father. He is the good cop to my bad cop (and vice-versa!). He is my partner in crime. He is a truly good person, and I feel so incredibly blessed to have him in my life.
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Loss
20 Jan 2012 4 Comments
in Adoptee, Loss Tags: adoptee, loss
When I think about the first two years of my life, I envision a deep, dark abyss—a sea of nothingness. There will always be a void in my life…one which no amount of love will ever be able to fill. That void—that feeling that something is missing—is part of being an adoptee.
There are seven core issues in adoption: Loss, Rejection, Guilt/Shame, Grief, Identity, Intimacy & Relationships, Control/Gains (Silverstein & Roszia, 1982). Each member of the adoption triad (adoptee, birth parent & adoptive parent) experiences these seven core issues differently. My being abandoned by my birth parents was the ultimate form of loss in my life. At the age when most children are experiencing the overwhelming sense of love parents have for their children, I was abandoned and left in a subway station. While I don’t remember anything from my life in Korea, I can only imagine how traumatic that experience must have been. Being pulled from the only life I had ever known and thrust into a world full of strangers, taught me from a very early age that people can’t be trusted, and that people who love me will leave me.
My adoptive family is amazing. Growing up, no conversation ended without an “I love you.” There wasn’t a night where I went to bed without hearing those three words. We hugged often, and my siblings and I never wanted for anything. As with most adoptees, my brain has always been wired a little differently, due to the losses I experienced early in life. No matter how often my parents told me they loved me, the fear and the feelings of doubt were always there. My birth parents loved me, but they let me go. What if I do something wrong? Will my adoptive parents let me go, too?
For me, the fear of abandonment developed into a perfectionist child mentality. I worked hard to be a good daughter. I worked hard to do well in school. I worked hard to be everything I thought my adoptive parents wanted me to be because I had convinced myself that if I was good enough—if I tried hard enough—then they wouldn’t abandon me, too. Nothing my adoptive parents did caused me to feel this way, but the mindset instilled in me at a very young age that people who love you will leave you, became an integral part of my childhood and teen years.
As a mother, my feelings of loss now involve my children and the things I will never be able to pass on to them. I mourn the loss of not being able to pass my Korean culture onto them and cope with the knowledge that I will need to depend on strangers to help teach my children about who they are. I feel guilty about the blank pages in their medical records where their maternal family medical history should be. I know these things are beyond my control, but the fact that they will always be missing those pieces of the puzzle because of me, can be somewhat overwhelming.
The losses I experienced will always be a part of me, and they’ll, unfortunately, have an impact on my children, as well. No amount of love or reassurance will be able to fill the void of those losses, but the love and support I received, and continue to receive, from my adoptive parents mean the world to me, and helped shape the person I am today. I will be forever thankful for every hug, for every “I love you”, and for every time they showed me they weren’t going anywhere.
