Trans Racial Adoption

After reading a New York Times article, (see link below) I have a few things to say as a trans racial family. A 'skeptic' is a doubter, a non believer. Maybe the skeptics referred to in this article should look at statistics or really look into the life of a foster child.

I wonder what the 'skeptics' would say about my family? My husband and I are a white couple with three bio children and four black adopted children (three are siblings). We decided to move from our diverse 'rough' neighborhood in the city to a rural farming community (Population est. 1100, there are about seven black people in the area, our kids included) when our oldest bio son was in the ninth grade and the others were not in school yet. The city school was becoming gang infested, just during my sons freshman year alone I had to call 911 twice because of fights that broke out in the parking lot while I was waiting to pick him up.

What got to me in this article were the words like 'racial survival skills' and 'how best to parent a black child'. Really? How about if we teach our kids 'basic life survival skills', ones that teach them how to create great lasting relationships, thrive in school, prepare for college, succeed in the working world?

The children in foster care DO NOT care what color you are, they are looking for someone, anyone who CARES! I will say it...Love is enough! I mean really the only other option for our children would have been growing up in the foster care system and the siblings most likely would have been separated. Is that really better than being raised in a white family?

Yes we took our children out of the city, away from their culture, with the hope and promise to give all  of them the best possible start. We are raising them exactly as we are raising our white children. Equally, as it should be. Yes our black children have mostly all white friends, they like country music  and hip hop, camouflage as well as in fashion, hunting, sports, ect. They will have plenty of time to discover their 'cultural identity' which is not foreign to them by the way. In the meantime, they are enjoying a safe, fun, free of crime education and childhood.

As many times as I hear that trans racial adoption will ruin a black child, I'd have to argue them all! I'd say that my children are well rounded, very well adjusted, non prejudice, popular, smart kids, despite their rough beginning. They are thriving in a white family and a rural community in the middle of farmland.

I am going to 'interview' my teenagers on their thoughts and feelings of being raised by a white family and how in their opinion they think it would have been different being in a black family. I will post their interviews when we're done.

http://www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2014/02/02/in-adoption-does-race-matter/in-adoption-race-should-not-be-ignored

OCD

    I have my two page list sitting on the van seat beside me, pencil in hand. Thinking, organizing and adding to it. I left out bright and early, making a trip to the city to finish up all of my Christmas shopping. I've been composing my lists for weeks.

The first page consists of the stops I need to make, in geographical order. I have each store listed separate with the items I need from there, I also have the price, size, quantity and whether or not I have a coupon.

I make my way around the map of stops, running in, getting through my list, cringing when I pay, back out to the van to load, sanitize and off again. Ten places in all if you count the car wash and gas station.


The second page is Meijer. This is the bulk of the trip, not only will I shop for toys and other Christmas goodies, this is also where I will grocery shop. This list is long! It's in order by aisle. Starting with the non grocery items.

I have my list and a pencil in my hand at each store. Using one the Monster High Doll boxes as my writing surface I cross out things as I go. The first comment someone made about my lengthy, organized list, I laughed. By the fourth list comment, I am starting to get worried, list conscious.

My over thinking self is doing what she does best and on my hour long drive home I start to wonder if I have OCD. I've questioned it before.

I mean who makes lists like I do?
Are anyone else's hands dry, cracked and raw from washing so much?
Does anyone else vacuum every day?
Do you check more than once to make sure you unplugged your curling iron?
Don't we all sometimes avoid places, seek assurance, or stress out about things that don't go just right?

Those are just a couple things that have made me question this. So I thought myself into researching  OCD
Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is an anxiety disorder in which people have unwanted and repeated thoughts, feelings, ideas, sensations (obsessions), or behaviors that make them feel driven to do something (compulsions).

I even took this test. http://www.ocdtypes.com/oci-r-test.php

My score is 14, borderline to what could signify minimal to mild OCD.

For the people who question my ways, this is what I say.

 If washing a hundred times a day because I've wiped noses, bottoms, changed a diaper, took the garbage out, made breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, cleaned out puppy pens, picked up dogs, cleaned up after a teenage boy, or girl for that matter, oh and my own potty breaks makes me OCD then I am troubled that you are not.

There is nothing worse than caring for a sick child. I prevent if I can and deal with it when I can't. In this house they all know that hand washing is a priority. If that makes you think I have OCD, then caring for a sick child, or children in my case, must be easier for you than it is for me.

Instead of wandering aimlessly around a store, buying things I don't need, trying to keep the impatient children from having meltdowns and wasting precious time, I make a list.

So, maybe I do have some of the signs of OCD and here I thought I was just organized, thrifty, careful, considerate and detailed. 

Five years. Twenty babies.

Five years. Twenty foster babies. My heart is full as I am recalling all of their little faces , one by one.
The loss is there too. I can feel it, still after fifteen years.

We had thirteen boys and seven girls come into our lives, most of them were under three years old. Each one touched my life simply by their own.

 Lessons in reality had  me struggling to cope with emotions that I had never experienced.

Fear. Even stronger than joy or love. Fear was present at all times. First I had fears about the child's circumstances, their health, birth family, and the ultimate fear~ the separation in the end. All of which consumed me. Fear would creep up on me even in my sleep.
I am strong enough not to give up but know I will suffer.

Joy. Love. They compliment each other, one brings the other. A baby brings them both. In foster care joy means a healthy check up at the pediatrician, a child that will finally look me in the eye,  one that will let me comfort him after weeks of pushing me away.
Love in foster care, is everything that leads up to the separation. Love is forming a bond even though I know it will be shattered to pieces.  Embracing the child's family and finding empathy even if I have to dig deep to find it.

The chapters in my life have increased by ten fold because of them. Their lessons will carry on within me for all my life.

The four babies that came into our lives without a family unification plan are ours now. A sibling group of three and one more.

The future holds far too many questions. There can't possibly be any harder job to do in life than to raise children.  I will continue on even if I struggle, to move forward in my trying life to raise responsible children.