Showing posts with label Adoption Articles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Adoption Articles. Show all posts

The Big Questions

This post is an article found at Adoptive Families.

Between the ages of six and eight, children begin to understand adoption in a more sophisticated way--and will pose some questions you may have a hard time answering. AF takes a look at what's going on in the school-age child's mind, and offers advice for talking.
By JoAnne Solchany, Ph.D., ARNP

You've probably told your child his story from a very young age. As a toddler, he picked up on your cheerful tone when you talked about adoption. In early childhood, children generally accept adoption as a happy, positive family narrative. By the preschool years, your child may have learned his story verbatim, and loved to chime in when you recited the tale. Even so, he probably understood few of the words or concepts being used.

Between the ages of six and eight, children make substantial cognitive gains. This is the age when children begin to understand the difference between reality and fantasy, gain a greater capacity for logical thought, and start to see things from others' perspectives. These developmental advances allow children to understand adoption in a new way. What does this lead to? For many of our kids, lots of questions. Other children may never voice the questions, but tantrums, testing of our limits, periods of regression, or other behaviors indicate that they're mulling something big beneath the surface.

As parents, we may be overwhelmed by this new round of questions and surprising behaviors. Some will seem to indicate that our child is sad or grieving. We worry about saying the wrong thing or giving him information that will cause him to worry. Often, we're at a loss because we simply don't know the answers.

Here are four developmental tasks--and the resulting questions and behaviors--that are typical of this age.

Awareness of the "other" family
During the preschool years, children tend to think of family as the people who live together in a house. But they soon begin to understand the concept of cousins, grandmothers, and extended family. When they start school, and their world broadens further, they realize that families are formed in different ways, and that most children live with their birth families. This awareness leads to a more profound understanding of adoption.

Six- to eight-year-olds realize that, in order to have joined their present families, they lost their first families. And that their birth families are living somewhere else in the country or the world. Children may ask a lot of questions as they seek to solidify this fact. Tracy Wachtman, of Defiance, Ohio, reports that her daughter "has started to process the fact that she has birth siblings in Belarus. She asks a lot of ‘what are they doing right now?' questions."

The understanding that they have separate adoptive and birthparents often leads children to "compare" the two--even if they never knew their birthparents. Cindy, of Madison, Wisconsin, is very familiar with the kind of comments that result from what she calls the "Disneyland birthmom phase": "My birthmother would let me stay up later" or "My birthmother would let me have whatever I wanted." She's learned to "ride them out" and to bring up adoption when her daughter isn't upset.

Needing to know "why"
At a younger age, children can't conceive of others' points of view. During the school years, this "egocentrism" begins to fade and children move beyond their immediate thoughts and impressions. At the same time, they're able to connect actions with thoughts and feelings in their minds. Thus, they begin to consider not just the process of adoption, but why their birthparents did what they did, what they were thinking, and how they might have felt.

"My daughter, adopted at 16 months, didn't talk about adoption until age six, but it was clear that she'd been processing it," says Jenna Rugile, of East Northport, New York. "All of a sudden, she began asking questions like, ‘Why did my mommy give me up? Was I bad?' She also began throwing tantrums and testing our limits."

Rugile's experience is hardly unusual; wanting to know "why" a birthparent made an adoption plan is the biggest question for many children during this stage. Rugile and her husband eventually decided to seek help from an adoption therapist. She describes a recent "breakthrough" moment: "After a tantrum, and many tears and sobs, my daughter said, ‘Maybe I get so angry because I have a boo-boo inside from when I was left.' I responded, ‘Yes, I think that's true,' and reassured her that we are here for her and can talk about anything whenever she needs to talk."

School-age children are capable of logical thought, and want to "problem-solve" and come up with answers. If you explain poverty, youth, or other circumstances that can lead to adoption plans, your child may ask, "Why couldn't someone give her some money, so she could take care of me?" or "Why couldn't someone teach her how to be a better mommy?" Encourage your child's thoughts, while explaining that you don't know all of the circumstances surrounding her birthparents' adoption plan: "That's a good suggestion, but we didn't know your birthmother. We do know that she made this decision because she felt it would give you a better life."

Separating fantasy from reality
Until the years of middle childhood, fantasy plays a huge role in a child's life. Fantasy is gradually replaced by rules and routines. This change can be seen in a child's play, as pretend-play gives way to games with rules and structure.

And because six- to eight-year-olds can now tell fantasy from reality, they have a strong desire to know "what is real." When it comes to adoption, they want more information on how they came to be, what happened to their birthparents, and, especially, why their birthparents could not take care of them.

The adoption story you've told so far is probably a simple framework. Now's the time to add in all the details you know. "When our son was about six, he asked a lot of questions about his first mom. What was her name? Did he have brothers or sisters? What are their names? Why didn't he live with her? What was his name before he was adopted?" says Michelle Oxman, of Evanston, Illinois. "We were still in touch with his birthmom at the time, and I think that helped. I'd talk with him about the letters we sent her. Once she sent a picture of herself, and he hugged it to his heart."

As Oxman found, children this age respond to concrete information. Share any photos or letters that you have, or pull out the passport your child used when you traveled home to the U.S., or the decree that made his adoption final in your state's court.

Parents may worry if they lack specific information, but you can explain what probably happened: "We don't know why your birthmother couldn't raise you, but babies need lots of things to grow up to be strong and healthy. She may have realized that she couldn't provide everything you needed, and decided to find a family who could."

Fears about permanence
Children in this age group are moving on to bigger classrooms, to real academic work, and to more complex peer interaction on the playground. And they must function independently for longer periods on school days.

These transitions can cause anxiety that surfaces in questions such as, "If my birthmom gave me away, will you give me away, too?" or "What happened to my birthparents?" Children may relate such fears to circumstances within your family: "If Daddy loses his job, will you give me away?" "If I am bad, will you have to send me back?"

It's important to explain to your child that adoption is always an adult decision, and it never has anything to do with the child or her behavior. Stress that her birthparents could not care for any baby at the time. End every discussion by reassuring your child that adoption is forever--and that you're open to talking about the subject any time she wants to. Just as these weren't the first adoption conversations you had with your child, they'll be far from the last.

Words you can use
Kids ask tough questions at this age. Here are some typical queries, sample language you can adapt, and messages you want to send during the exchange.

Q: Why didn't my mother want me?
A: Your birthmother wanted you to have the best home and family. She knew she would not be able to give that to you, so we adopted you!
Objective: Reinforce the desire to give your child a good life.

Q: How come they didn't like me?
A: I believe your birthparents loved you very much, which is why they wanted you to be adopted. They were not ready to be a mom or dad yet, and they wanted the best family for you!
Objective: Explain how hard decisions can be made out of love.

Q: What's my birthmother's name? What does she look like?
A: Her name is __. I have a photo of her. Would you like to see it?
Objective: Parents who adopt domestically often have a letter, a photo, or met the birthmother at the time of the adoption, but may wait for--and worry about--the "right time" to share. Often, knowing what a birthparent looks like is enough to satisfy a curious seven-year-old. If your child asks, and you are comfortable, share some of this concrete information.

Q: If you were my birthmother, would you have kept me?
A: Wow, that is a big question…. Your birthmom had to make a very difficult decision that I will never have to make. You are my son and we are a family, and nothing will ever change that.
Objective: Although you probably feel the urge to "support" the birthmom, what's most important at this age is to cement the current relationship as lasting "forever."

Q: Did I have a father, too?
A: Yes, you do have a birthfather. Have you been thinking about him?
Objective: Even if you included the birthfather in your earlier adoption talks (and you should have!), children may not think or ask about him until this stage. Open up the discussion.

Q: Why couldn't she go to school to learn to be a mommy?
A: Some women are not ready to be mommies, and they want their child to be with another mommy who is ready. Your birthmommy was wise enough to know that she was not ready to be a mom, so she made the decision to have someone else raise you.
Objective: Encourage thinking and processing. "What ifs" are a good way to help your child explore his thoughts.

Q: Is my birthmother dead?
A: What makes you think that?
Objective: It is OK to say you don't know, but it is more important to explore your child's feelings and the fantasies. These are normal issues that need to be addressed.

JoAnne Solchany, Ph.D., ARNP, is the mother of two adopted children. She practices in the greater Seattle area.

Talking Tips
There is no "best way" to deal with your child's desire for information. However, it's helpful to keep these guidelines in mind.

1.Follow your child's lead. Take it one question at a time and allow your discussions to unfold naturally.
2.If you don't know an answer, admit it. If you're giving your child your best guess, make this clear by using a phrase like "Probably" or "I think." Then, ask your child what he thinks.
3.Support your child's emotions--she may be mad, sad, or indifferent. All of which are normal and OK.
4.Take advantage of "parallel conversation" situations, like riding in the car, walking the dog, or cuddling on the couch--any time when direct eye contact can be avoided and discussion can flow.
5.Encourage your child to put his feelings about his birthmother to paper. Give him a journal in which to record his thoughts, or suggest that he write a hypothetical letter. Offer to hold the letter in a special place for now. For many children, simply putting the words to paper is therapeutic.
6.Wonder with her. Ask what she imagines her birthmother is like.


Stealing is a Sin

But, I just couldn't resist this article from Adoptivefamilies.com

Adopting Infants Through Foster Care


"Adopting through foster care felt like a roller-coaster ride, but we knew that we were on the right path." By Cindy Moore


My husband and I spent three-and-a-half years in the foggy defeat of infertility before deciding to pursue adoption. We took heart in a Biblical passage, from Jeremiah 29:11: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord. "They are for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope." We were ready to embrace that future, and it felt as though the sun was shining again. But we had no idea where to start.

I connected with a woman in my church, who had adopted 10 children through foster care. After speaking with her, and hearing about her happy family, we knew adopting through foster care was the path for us. We chose infant/toddler adoption.

We had three options: straight adoption, "legal risk" adoption, and "foster-to-adopt." Straight adoption involved children who were legally free for adoption at the time of placement. "Legal risk" adoption involved children for whom termination of parental rights was imminent. In "foster-to-adopt," children would be placed with us if the caseworkers felt there was a high probability of termination of parental rights and adoption (as opposed to children for whom reunion with the parents was expected). But because parental rights would not have been terminated at the time of placement, we would face the painful prospect of parenting a child whom we might not ultimately adopt. Foster-to-adopt scared us, so we considered the other options.

But after our training was completed, we learned that, even though the straight adoption and legal risk programs placed children as young as six months who were legally free for adoption, infants were placed via the foster-to-adopt program almost exclusively because of the length of time required to terminate parental rights. It was when our agency's social worker told us that she routinely turned away opportunities to place infants because she didn't have enough foster-to-adopt families that we decided to accept a foster-to-adopt placement. Although the fear of losing a child we had raised from infancy was terrifying, we decided to trust God to prepare us for whatever came our way.

About eight months after we started our foster parent training, we became the proud parents (legally, the foster parents) of siblings, an active 22-month-old boy, Nathan, and a one-and-a-half-week-old baby girl, Emma. Despite the joy and excitement of becoming parents, there was the nagging fear that we wouldn't become a forever family.

For four months, we fulfilled the most difficult part of the adoption process--required weekly visits with the birth family. Every Friday, I took my babies to a dingy office, where I handed them over to their birthparents, who often appeared to be high. From the beginning, it was clear that there was little chance of their making the changes necessary to avoid termination of their parental rights. On one hand, I was thrilled to be one step closer to that piece of paper that made us legally a family. But I was also angry at them for not fighting for my little angels.

Our story has a happy ending. We finalized our adoption of Nathan and Emma in February 2007, and we brought their biological baby brother, Isaac, home on June 19, 2008, when he was a week old. Nathan is now a happy and intelligent five-year-old, whose enthusiasm for life is contagious. He has been reading since he was four, with very little instruction--once he learned the letter sounds, there was no stopping him! Emma was born five weeks premature, with three different drugs in her system. Though still very petite, she is developmentally on target. She is a complete princess, but she also loves to catch (and kiss) frogs! Emma displays some attention problems, and we are evaluating her to see whether this is age-related or whether, given her drug exposure, she might have ADHD, as Nathan does. Isaac is a thriving one-year-old today. He never stops moving and exploring!

Both Nathan and Emma understand that they all grew in the same tummy. We have been honest, explaining that, although their birthparents love them, they made very bad choices and were not able to take care of them. We are blessed to see the paternal grandparents regularly, and we have limited contact with the birthmother.

God does indeed have a plan for our lives, and I hate to think of what we may have missed if we hadn't been willing to follow it.

Cindy Moore writes about being a mom and her family's journey through the foster system on her blog, myebenezer.net.
God knows my heart, ya'll! Be on the lookout for more great articles from Adoptive Families and yours truly,

Okla. Couple Fights to Give Back Adopted Son - They say he's violent and needs more help than they can offer

Okla. Couple Fights to Give Back Adopted Son - They say he's violent and needs more help than they can offer

So, my computer went nutso before I could comment on this video, so I will do so today. Although I don't really know where to begin. I see where the "parents" (and I use that term loosely) are coming from in a sense because the state of OK should have given them more information as to the boy's past and family background. OK should also be giving the "parents" more support right now. Of course, they very well could be, and we just aren't hearing about it.

But, on the other hand, I also see where the state of OK is coming from. Adoption is final. Children don't come with a receipt. There is no return policy. Ever.

So, how does this apply to our situation? Um, for starters, I'm hoping J and I aren't so naive when we are called with our first placement and ask all the right questions to get the most information we can. Secondly, I will make sure to keep my receipt so when things get rough, I can return or exchange for a better model.

*insert eyeroll here*

Aging Out in Foster Care

Watch this great video about what happens to kids who grow up in the foster care system and what happens when they become too old to qualify for assistance.

It's Homestudy Day and I'm Not Perfect Yet (an article)

by Jeanne Marie Kaskas

The social worker is due in a few hours. We’re basically ready. I mean, we’ve cleaned this house like nobody’s business. And we’ve put rock salt all over the driveway so she won’t slip. I was going to make applesauce so the house would have the warm, welcoming smell of cinnamon. But now I’m thinking I should bake bread instead. Or how about a fire in the fireplace? The smell of a fire definitely says: Home.

But what is the smell of Parent? More specifically, what is the smell of Good Parent Material? The social worker is coming to consider us. She’s coming to our house today to do a "home study," step one in the adoption procedure.

Alex and I have decided to adopt a baby. Well, we haven’t decided decided. But we’re deep into the decision process. The deeper you go, the more your heart starts pounding.

There’s a lot you can do before you commit. Lots of paperwork you can get behind you. So this is what we are doing. This is our way of deciding, of tiptoeing, of cracking open the door to the unknown.
"Do you think we should have the smell of baking bread wafting through the house?" I ask Alex.

"Might be a little contrived," he says. "We never bake bread."

"Okay, applesauce."

"We don’t make that either," he says.

"I made it in seventh grade," I point out. "It was the first thing we cooked in home ec.’’

"All right," he says. He knows to surrender when I am being driven by stress.

"But will the smell get all the way back to the family room?" I ask. "Should we bring a fan in here or something and aim the aroma toward the back of the house?"

"No," he says. "No-we-should-not." He knows to speak clearly, definitively, when I am losing my marbles.

I’m nervous. I’ve never had a home study before. I’ve never had to put my domestic self out for review. It is not my most developed self. My inner Martha Stewart is not what you’d call a fully actualized identity.

It doesn’t help that it’s raining. That the ice outside is slowly giving way to a yard that looks like soup. "Welcome to the ugliest day on our farm," I imagine saying to her when she pulls up. But then she might think I mean it’s ugly because she’s here, so, no, I’d better not go there.

I’m nervous. I want this to go right. I’m peeling apples. I’m wiping the counters again and again to show off what a good counter wiper I am. I am sprinkling cinnamon on the apples, lots of it, to make sure the aroma of my own domesticity, of my promise as a mother, is unmistakable.

I could, of course, be insulted. I mean, maybe that’s the more empowering emotional directionto go in right now. The outrage! A home study? Why should I have to prove my parental potential to a complete stranger? Any wacko with the right plumbing can make himself or herself a parent. No forms to fill out. No history to reveal. No how-do-you-handle-conflict essay questions to answer. Why me? Poor me. It’s not fair. Life isn’t fair. Which, of course, is only half the story. Life seems unfair only when it’s throwing curves. But what about when it’s sending out those
equally rare perfect pitches: a good job, a good husband, a happy home, a supportive family, a baby who needs a mom.

Okay, here comes a car. A white car. Make that a muddy white car. Oh, dear. I should have prepared her. She pulls up the driveway, sits there for a few minutes. She’s flipping through papers, writing things down. She’s giving us bad marks for mud. I can just tell. I am biting my nails. I am pacing. "Just be yourself," Alex says. He has an umbrella. He is going outside to her.

"Brilliant idea!" I say. "Bring her an umbrella! Blind her with chivalry!"

"It’s raining," he says.

When she gets in the house, I begin my apologies. For the rain. For the gray sky. For the ruts on Wilson Road. For the way the kitchen is not yet renovated. For the light bulb that is out on the porch. For the way the cat sleeps on the satellite dish receiver despite the fact that I have provided him with a perfectly good cat bed.

"You seem nervous," she says, smiling. "Please don’t be. This is not an investigation. This is a…warm-and-fuzzy. You know? I’m just here to help you bring your daughter home."

My…what? Excuse me? This is the first time I have ever heard that word used that way. That is one big word. "Daughter." "My daughter." "Our daughter." That has a ring to it, all right. Alex looks at me. He is smiling. I am smiling. The social worker is smiling. Three people enjoying the same music. Decisions are like music. New songs you try out. The more beautiful the sound, the more your heart starts pounding.

Copyright ©1999 by Jeanne Marie Laskas; originally published in the Washington Post Magazine. Jeanne Marie Laskas is the author of Fifty Acres and a Poodle (Bantam, 2000), and The Exact Same Moon (Bantam, 2003), a book about international adoption.

Stuff to Think About When Considering Adoption

Before families involve themselves in the adoption process, it is important that they engage in a thorough assessment of attitudes about themselves, their current situation, their current family life, and their support system. The following questions are written for prospective adoptive parents who are married couples since these are the most common adopters. It is understood that single adopters would need to address these questions as well.

What are the reasons we want to adopt?

How do we see adoption as a positive way to build our family?

In what ways do we have the kind of lifestyle that will be enhanced by the adoption of a new family member?

How will our extended family respond to our adopted child?

Do we have personal problems that we think may improve if a child enters our family?
Is our motivation for adopting to “save a child”?

What is our perspective on the potential relationship: Do we want a child for ourselves, or are we a family for a child? In other words, what are our expectations for the child in this relationship?
Are we adopting to acquire a playmate for our biological child?

Can we love and nurture this child without knowledge of this or her history, no matter what may arise because of that history? Are we prepared for any special needs our child may have?

Adoption is a team effort involving parents, agencies, attorneys, and other individuals. How capable do we see ourselves of working through the system?

When we think of a child, do we envision a child who comes with a history or a child who comes with a blank slate?

If infertility is an issue, what point of resolution have we reached regarding our inability to conceive? How has infertility affected our marriage?

If singleness is the reason I don’t have children, what point of resolution have I reached regarding the possibility that I may never marry and have biological children with a spouse?

How has childlessness affected our relationships with relatives, friends, and their children?

Have we asked ourselves, “Who in our extended family or circle of friends would best understand the unique needs or our adopted child?”

These wonderful questions were taken from the book I am currently reading, The Whole Life Adoption Book by Jayne Schooler and Thomas Atwood.