Month: November 2015

Thankful That I Couldn’t Have a Biological Child

On By alliegardnerIn Everyday Life, Our Adoption Story14 Comments

photo-117Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and not just because I get to stuff my face with turkey and gravy and potatoes and pie (although that is definitely awesome). I love how the day always makes me think about what I’m most thankful for. I didn’t say this out loud at dinner–it’s not your typical toast–but I am truly and deeply grateful for my inability to have a biological child.

Had I had an easy time getting pregnant, I would never have met my son. I would be missing out on so much right now. I am sure I would have loved a biological child, but I would not have MY child. This child, this beautiful boy right here. This little boy who I am more in love with than anything else on the entire planet and in the whole history of the world.

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If I had gotten a positive pregnancy test, I would have a normal family that blended in with the crowd and a child who looked like me. I would not have this beautiful, colorful, diverse family that may not look alike but who loves each other just the same. I would not have the compassion, understanding, wisdom, community, and love that I have gained through adopting a child of another race.

I would have love, but I would not have his love. My heart would be bigger, but it would not be this big. I would be happy, but I would not be this happy.

I would be thankful, but I would not be this thankful.

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My life was forever changed when my son entered it. I’m grateful that I understand so much more than I ever did about race and what it feels like to be ‘othered’ by society. I am thankful that my eyes have been opened and my thoughts and feelings have expanded and grown and multiplied in ways that I never dreamed of. When Miles was born, I did not just get a child, I got a whole new perspective on life and what it means to be a human being. I am truly a better person because of him.

I am thankful every day for the presence of my beautiful black boy with his dark chocolate skin, deep brown eyes, and contagious spirit. I love learning about his rich heritage and figuring out ways to include it in our daily lives. I love how intentional I have to be every day. I love the smell of his soft hair after I rub coconut oil in it and how the odd curl refuses to be tamed. He makes me laugh a million times a day and I cannot imagine a life without him in it.

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I wish I had been able to tell myself this when I was trying to get pregnant: that my biggest heartbreak would soon turn into my greatest joy. And that I would be eternally grateful for the gift of infertility, no matter how much it hurt at the time.

 

Best Friends of the Furry Kind

On By alliegardnerIn Adoptive Parenting, Everyday Life4 Comments

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He’s not even two years old yet, but Miles already has two best friends: our old English lab and our middle-aged mutt, his constant companions.  They have both adored him from the start. Now that he’s running around, he plays ball with the lab, (which is hilarious) chases the mutt, and snuggles up with (or sits on) them all the time. He makes sure they eat pretty good these days, too, dutifully sharing both his favorite snacks and his least favorite vegetables.

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Our dogs have been a part of Miles’ life ever since the day he was born. When we drove from Virginia to Texas after getting the call that Miles’ birthmother was in labor, we packed up the car and brought the dogs because we had no idea when we’d be back (and we only had one day notice that we were about to have a baby!). So they knew him right from the start and immediately went into protector mode.

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We ended up being in Texas for an entire month, and were very happy to have the dogs with us on the most important trip of our lives (after all, they were our babies first). When we were feeling stressed over ICPC or the frustrating Texan adoption agency we had to work with, we would look at sweet, sleeping Miles, and then pet the dogs. When we had no idea if we were ever going to be able to go home, I would put Miles in a baby carrier and walk the dogs. We both remarked several times on that trip how glad we were that they were there (even if they added an extra layer of complexity to the situation).

I love that I have photos like the one below when Miles was four days old and we were living in a hotel room (was that ever an adventure) and then from the porch of the sweet little house we rented on AirBnB for three weeks.

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Having a pet has been proven to be great for your health by lowering anxiety and stress levels. Dogs are there for you always, whenever you need them, absolutely unconditionally. Even though they are not humans, their company makes us feel less alone. If you’ve ever wrestled with a stressful, sad, scary, depressing situation, you know how isolating it can sometimes be. Dogs are soft and furry, which in addition to getting hair all over your couch and black pants, also provides comfort that’s hard to beat. To simply pet a dog or cat is to lower your blood pressure as much as lowering your sodium intake.

Look, see — Miles doesn’t appear stressed at all, does he?

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In the same way that I want to equip him with a love of nature and the outdoors to help him when he struggles, I also want him to equip him with a love for animals.

Having a dog has helped me through so many hard times in my life. My dogs have been on the receiving end of my tears too many times to count and have never once backed away from offering a furry shoulder to cry on.

When Miles is going through his teenage years, and in young adolescence when he tries to make sense of his adoption and racial identity, I want his dog to be sitting next to him. I want him to be able to pet that dog and calm himself and know that that dog is his–his best, most loyal friend, his companion, his protector. When he feels that there is no one in this world who understands him, I want his dog to lick his face and beg him to play ball or go for a walk. I want the responsibility of caring for a dog to bring him back to reality if he ever starts to spiral into darkness.


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This is something that Miles’ birthmother also wanted for him. Our dogs were one of the reasons that she chose us to be his family. She never had the chance to have a dog, but she said that she thought every little kid should–and she loved the thought that he would have two.

I’m pretty sure that he would agree with that wholeheartedly.

 

 

 

One Simple Thing We Can All Do to Improve Race Relations

On By alliegardnerIn On Race7 Comments

“Empathy may be the single most important quality that must be nurtured to give peace a fighting chance.” –  Arundhati Ray

As part of an effort to educate myself about black culture and racism, I’ve been reading websites and magazines written for black audiences. I think all transracial adoptive parents have a responsibility to learn about their children’s culture and the struggles they will face both as minorities and as adoptees.

A few weeks ago, I was scanning the Atlanta Black Star website, a news site with a mainly black audience, when I saw an article about a white guy from Georgia named Gerod Roth who posted a selfie standing next to a beautiful black child on his Facebook page. The Facebook post was soon riddled with racist remarks from both Roth and his friends and it ended up being passed all over the internet.

The Black community in Atlanta and around the country was outraged (rightfully so), and the people behind Black Twitter dug up the guy’s personal information and he and at least one of the commenters ended up being fired from their jobs (also rightfully so).

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Like other people who read it, I was upset by the photo and comments on the guys’ Facebook page. Then I scrolled down to the comments section of the Atlanta Black Star article and read what black people were saying about it–and that made me feel even worse. Things like, “White people don’t like us. Period.” Or, “White people will say this stuff about us but then smile to our faces. My buddy used to call it the fake white girl smile.” Or, simply, “This is why we will never be safe.”

In people’s minds, the rude comments of this overprivileged jerk and his ignorant friends were just another terrible thing in a long line of terrible things that white people have done to people of color. This wasn’t just about one white guy and a handful of idiots–to some of the people on that site, it seemed likethis guy spoke for all white people.

That made me so incredibly sad, because my smile is not fake and it breaks my heart that people might think that. (Not that I would blame them. How can black people trust us when things like this continue to happen?) Suddenly, it seemed impossible to me that we would ever be able to move past racism when there are people like Gerod Roth out there spewing hatred into the world. Feeling helpless, I looked at Miles and his beautiful black skin. How am I going to explain all of this to him? How is he going to feel about my white skin when he learns about racism? What can I do?

“Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eye for an instant?”  – Henry David Thoreau

I never comment on news articles, but I left a comment on the Atlanta Black Star article that day, saying how awful the story made me feel, how sorry I was that this happened, and how sorry I was for all of the terrible racist things that black people have to face each and every day.

What happened next amazed me. I started receiving friend requests from people in the black community who read my comment. Lots of them (400+ people) started leaving replies on that comment and sending me messages that said things like “Thank you for recognizing this,” and “You made my day,” and “This means so much,” and “This is sweet. It’s too bad the majority don’t feel this way.”

It was nothing. I simply acknowledged what I was feeling; that this was terrible, that not all white people are like that, and that I felt badly about it, too. But it apparently meant the world to a community that never (or very rarely) hears these kinds of things from white people. For some, it seemed like the only time in their entire lives that they had ever heard a white person express empathy to them in regards to racism. If you read the comments on that article, you’ll see what I mean.

Black people are used to white people denying that racism exists–not acknowledging that it does (even though we wished it didn’t). One commenter said, “White people can see vampires, ghosts, aliens, UFOs, werewolves, and zombies, but can’t see racism, oppression, or white privilege.”

From what I’ve seen and heard and learned about racism over the past two years, that is not far from the truth. Because white people have never experienced racism and don’t have to deal with it on a daily basis, it’s easy for us to think that it no longer exists. It makes us uncomfortable to talk about, and people often even take offense to it because they don’t think they, themselves, are racist. But imagine how frustrating that must be for the people who face the real-world consequences of our systemically racist society?

I think the reason we can’t seem to figure out a way to move past racism in this country is because too many of us refuse to even agree that it’s a problem.

“Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding.” – Albert Einstein

I made new friends by leaving that comment, all because instead of remaining silent and wishing that racism didn’t exist, I expressed the feelings that I’ve been carrying around inside. It didn’t solve anything, but imagine what would happen if we all said “Yes, racism is real and it’s not fair and we want to help do something about it.” Imagine the change that we could create.

What if we all made it a point to learn about racism and then to reach out and express empathy for the struggles our black neighbors have faced for generations? Why don’t more of us do that? What are we scared of? I know there are so many white people that feel the same why I do. If you’re reading this, surely you are one of them. If you believe that racism is real and care about ending it, find a way to express that.

We’ve got nothing to gain but friends and nothing to change but everything.

 

 

Nature Heals: Why I want my adopted son to be outdoorsy

On By alliegardnerIn Adoptive Parenting4 Comments


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Miles loves to be outside. When he was a teeny tiny thing and crying for one reason or another, I could always take him outside on the porch at our old house to calm him down. One look up at the trees surrounding our yard and he would quiet right down and go to sleep. Even now, if he’s restless, agitated, or upset, a trip out to the yard is just the thing to turn his day (and mine) right around.

We’ve planted the seeds early for a life-long love affair with nature and the outdoors by taking him hiking ever since he was big enough to fit in the backpack. This weekend, he was able to take a substantial hike for the first time on his own two legs. I was amazed at how far he got — he walked more than a mile, smiling and laughing as he stepped over logs, picked up sticks, and kicked fallen leaves. He absolutely loved it and I’m psyched to have a new hiking partner that I don’t have to carry the whole way (I’m also psyched that he slept for three hours afterwards).

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Nature has always been my antidote; there is nothing like a walk in the woods to cure me of everything from anxiety to stress and even loneliness and depression. The Great Outdoors has been proven–with actual research--to lower blood pressure, decrease stress hormones, and act as an anti-depressant on the brain, boosting serotonin and other feel-good hormones. Being outside, surrounded by trees and grass and feeling the wind and sun on your face is just plain good for you.

Being in the forest, whether I’m walking, running, horseback riding or just sitting under a tree–calms my mind and reminds me that I am connected to something much bigger than myself. Being outside, and especially in the woods, is an escape from all the noise. Surrounded by nature, I can breathe. Fresh air, trees, and wildlife fill me with love and gratitude and remind me what it means to be alive.

I believe that it’s especially important for children (and adults) who have heavy things like adoption on their hearts and minds to seek connection with nature. I know that as an adoptee, especially a transracial adoptee, Miles will undoubtedly experience confusion and sadness related to adoption that I won’t be able to resolve for him. So it’s important for me to equip and empower him with the one thing that never fails to lift my spirits: a deep and lasting love of Mother Nature.

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When his adoption causes him to wonder who he is and where he belongs in this world, I hope that he will always find comfort in going to the woods. I hope that spending time in nature fills him with a childlike wonder like it does me, and reminds him that that everyone and everything is connected. I hope the sounds of the birds and the wind rustling through the trees will dull any sadness he feels and give him the confidence to soldier on through even the darkest of days. Because no matter what else is going on, the natural world is always a magical place–and he belongs to it just like it belongs to him.

p.s. I believe in the power of the outdoors so much that my day job is all about connecting people to nature. A few months ago, I interviewed Dr. Scott Sampson (from PBS’ Dinosaur Train) about his new book, How to Raise a Wild Child: The Art and Science of Falling in Love with Nature for The Trust for Public Land’s blog. If you have kids, this book is a great read and has cool ideas on ways to nurture a love of nature in your children–whether you live in the city or the country. Little known fact: Dr. Scott and his wife adopted a child, too.

 

 

 

 

 

5 Ways My White Friends & Family Can be Allies for my Black Son

On By alliegardnerIn On Race10 Comments

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My family is different–and I love that. Having a child of color has enriched my life and expanded my emotional intelligence in so many ways. But as the mother of a Black son, racism is on my mind nearly every day now. I have learned so much about it and I want to share some of that with you on this blog because I know how much you all care about Miles, too.

Here are 5 ways that you can be an ally, not only for Miles, but for all kids of color:

1. Don’t pretend to be colorblind. You can say that Miles is black. (You don’t have to say African-American, although that’s OK to say, as is person of color or kid of color.) Black is not a 4-letter word. It’s his race. I’m proud of it and it is absolutely crucial that he is, too. I don’t want him to think that it’s something that he should be ashamed of. Instead, celebrate his Blackness with me. He’s a perfect, cuddly, beautiful Black baby boy and I couldn’t be prouder of that fact.

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2. If I bring up racism or white privilege, please have the courage to talk with me about it. This is my life now. I know that talking about race is uncomfortable for you–it was uncomfortable for me at first, too. But my child–and every Black child in this country–needs white advocates who aren’t afraid to learn about and talk about racism because, unfortunately, it is still exists. Trust me when I tell you that it definitely does. By acknowledging it, maybe we can create change.

3. Your white children will have privileges and be able to do things that my son won’t be able to do. This is the unfortunate reality of every Black parent in the country and now it is mine as well. And it just plain sucks. When you’re teaching your son to assert his rights when questioned by a police officer, I will have to tell mine to put his hands up and eyes down and try not to get shot. I’m going to have to teach him things–really sad, awful things–about the world that you will not have to teach your child, and when he’s a teenager I may just go absolutely insane with worry every time he leaves the house. Tell me that you get it and that it’s not fair. Help me think of ways to make it better.

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4. I can’t tell you how much I would appreciate you being intentional about teaching your children and/or grandchildren, nieces, or nephews that other races are just as beautiful and worthy and strong as ours. I think white parents sometimes forget to do that or don’t know how to go about it. But kids start to notice racial differences at a pretty young age and as parents, we have the ability to shape how they feel about those differences. Expose them to diversity in culture, books, toys, entertainment and look for opportunities to show them heroes and great men and women of color so they know that strong, good people come in every color and not just white. Something this simple can help shape our children into loving and empathetic adults.

5. Use your privilege to push for diversity (both in student bodies and in teaching staff) and equality for kids of color at your children’s school. As a white parent, you have a lot of power. Stand up and say something if you see racism happening. Ask the school to recruit more Black teachers. Black children historically have a really tough time in school because of systemic racism. This article from The Washington Post talks about how racism is pushing more Black parents to homeschool their kids. I’m actually considering homeschooling Miles–not at our home (I’d screw him up for sure!) but in a homeschool community coop for kids of color where there is an actual, accredited teacher in charge and I can be sure that he will be treated with respect and surrounded by children and teachers that look like him.

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Thank you for reading, for going on this journey with me, and for all of your love and support!

My Adopted Son is My Real Kid

On By alliegardnerIn Adoptive Parenting8 Comments

After thinking about this for what feels like forever, I’ve decided to change the name of the blog from Adopting Charlie to My Real Kid. This new name feels more fitting for a couple of  reasons, not the least of which is that we ended up naming our son Miles and not Charlie. And also because even though our family was formed through adoption, he IS my real kid.

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When you adopt a child that doesn’t share your skin tone, everyone wants to know the details. Everywhere we go, we are the center of attention. People are curious, and I’m fine with that. Ask anyone who knows me; I’ve never shied away from being the center of attention. I’m a total ham. So, I’ve never been bothered by the stares that we receive because they are usually accompanied by smiles. I always answer questions that people ask. “Where was he born?” is one that I hear constantly, and everyone is always surprised when I say Texas. Not a big deal–happens all the time.

But once and awhile someone will ask me a question like: “Do you have any “real” kids at home?” or “Where is his “real” mom?”

This happened the other day in the checkout line at the grocery store. The cashier was well-meaning (people usually are) but totally clueless. She kept using the term “real” even after I corrected her with: “No, I don’t have any biological children. Is that what you mean by real?”

I understand what she means by “real” and it doesn’t make me feel bad. I wouldn’t mind if it was just me that she was talking to, but now that Miles is almost 19 months old, he understands everything we say. He’s starting to answer questions and follow directions and it won’t be long before someone implying that he isn’t “real” is going to hurt his feelings.

I don’t want to answer questions from strangers about his birth family in front of him or why his birth mother decided that adoption was the best thing for him. And I don’t want to have to defend the fact that he is quote-unquote real. Imagine how that would make you feel if you were a little kid? (Not to mention the fact that he is 100% my real kid. I’ve changed just about each and every one of his diapers since the day he was born. I sit up with him at night when he’s cutting teeth. He runs to me when he gets hurt or scared. He makes me carry him (the entire time) while I vacuum. Trust me, this is as real as it gets.)

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So now when the cashier at the grocery store asks me if I have any “real kids” at home, I’ll just tell her to read all about it on my website… MyRealKid.com. That should shut her up! 🙂

Anyway, I hope you will continue to read as I navigate the next part of my journey as a transracial adoptive mom (and maybe another adoption soon!). I learn something new almost every day about what it means to be a parent and especially the adoptive mother of a Black son. Although, full disclosure: most of the time I have no idea what I’m doing and am totally winging it–aren’t we all?

Cheers, and thank you so much for reading!

p.s. AdoptingCharlie.com will redirect to MyRealKid.com so hopefully people will have no problem finding the site with its new name. MyRealKid will house the entire archive of Adopting Charlie posts–just consider it a facelift. I’m not entirely sure what will happen if you follow the blog, so it would be great if you would hit follow blog button again to be sure you get updates.

 

 

Adoptive Parenting: Matching genes not required

On By alliegardnerIn Adoptive Parenting13 Comments

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A few months ago, I listened to a friend tell another friend who is pregnant that there’s nothing like becoming a mother. “You’re making a tiny copy of yourself,” she said. “He’s going to have your DNA and be your own little mini-me. It’s amazing.”

I just smiled and nodded and took a sip of wine. “That is cool, but it’s equally as amazing if they don’t look like you,” I said. “Becoming a parent fills your heart with a love so true and pure that it absolutely rocks your world.”

To me, that love is what parenthood is all about–that selfless, do-anything-for-you type of love that one only feels for their children. I felt it the very first time I saw my son–this newborn baby who looked nothing like me, who I didn’t carry in my belly, who doesn’t share my genes. My love for him was not conditional upon biology. It simply didn’t matter.

I get it–I understand the primal urge to pass on your genes and to procreate with your partner. I felt it and grieved it. But that is a distant memory now. That wound, that pain, has long since healed. And I can tell you that there is no possible way that I could love my son any more–even if I had given birth to him. The moment I laid eyes on my child, I became his mother, unconditionally and with my whole heart.

Once and awhile someone will ask me if I still want to have a “child of my own.” I tell them that I already do have a child of my own and that no, I do not feel any need or desire to have a biological child. And I mean it, 100%. But some people have a hard time imagining that I could not possibly want a baby that is “biologically part me and part my husband.”

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The thing that people don’t realize is that my son is absolutely part me and part my husband. We are the ones who nurture him daily, we are the ones teaching him how to be in the world, how to act, how to love, how to treat other people. He doesn’t look like us or share our skin color, but everything he knows about the world he gets from us. We are his parents, his role-models, his family. Simple as that.

I even felt this way before Miles was born, after we started the adoption process. I worried that if I became pregnant that we wouldn’t be able to adopt. Once we made the decision that adoption was the way that we would create our family, I never looked back. It felt right and it felt good–in a way that trying to get pregnant never had. I put down the pain and disappointment of endless negative pregnancy tests and picked up the joy and hope of adoption and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

To me, motherhood has nothing to do with sharing the same eyes as your child. Becoming a mother (or a father) is about so much more than that. It’s about truly unconditional love, always putting your child before yourself, and just plain being there to raise, hug, comfort, encourage, nurture, and adore him or her no matter what.

And that is more than enough for me.