I like to read comments on major news articles. Sometimes I enjoy the readers’ comments more than the article itself. But I never write a comment myself. I figure there are enough people out there with clashing opinions – there’s no sense adding another voice to the din. But this time, I just had to say something.
It was an article on Madonna’s failed adoption bid of the little Malawian girl, Mercy. And it wasn’t just this article that pushed me over the edge from spectator to participant – but a series of articles in the same newspaper.
The common thread was adoption and the fact that I was offended by the language in every article – and I’m not easily offended. I can only hear the term “children of her own” so many times before something blows.
“Madonna has two children of her own and a boy from Malawi.” Or “Nicole Kidman only has one child of her own and two adopted children.” Or Angelina has 3 children of her own …. You get the point.
I’ve heard this phrase for years, of course. When our eldest daughter, Jen Jin Ok was a toddler, people would often ask in front of her – “do you have any children of your own?”
I would answer – Yes, one.
Boy or girl? Girl.
And they would walk away clueless that I was talking about the little girl in my lap – the one with the almond eyes and jet-black pigtails who looks absolutely nothing like me. The one who has captured my heart – the one we still call our firstborn. It’s hard to explain to people who don’t get it that whether a child is born via your womb or your heart makes absolutely no difference. They are your own. And when anyone says differently, especially in ear shot of our girls, I can’t stay silent.
Our youngest Chinese daughter, Hana Jun, just celebrated her 13th adoption day. This is the day that we tell and re-tell the stories of how we became a multi-cultural family. We talk about the day the seed was dropped in our hearts and how their names were chosen. We remember all the paperwork and home studies and the financial miracles. We remember the painful waiting period, and the trials – like the dying room scandal and the day American warships parked off the coast of Taiwan. We remember the day that our referral came and finally we had a picture – a face to go with the name. We recount the endless hours in the empty nursery, praying and weeping, waiting for the arrival day or the travel date. We remember the fear that something could go wrong, that perhaps our beloved child is hungry or cold or sick and we can do nothing but pray. We recount the day each of them were placed in our waiting arms and the inexpressible joy and sense of completion as our family circle closed around them. We talk about their birth parents and the desperation and hope for a better life that must have driven them to relinquish children they must surely have loved.
Hana never tires of hearing her story – and this year is even more special. This year I gave her a gift that has been tucked away in a memory box for safekeeping until just the right time – a small cream-colored journal where I recorded my thoughts, prayers, hopes and fears during the waiting period. The other night,we snuggled on the couch as I read excerpts aloud from its pages:
December 29, 1995
I’ve been guarding my heart, a little afraid to see all these hopes and dreams on paper staring back at me. But we are so far into the process and it is so real…you’re already imprinted in my heart and mind, Hana Grace.
The time has gone quickly and yet has stood still. I don’t know this little girl and I ache for her. This little life on the other side of the world…a foreign language, foreign culture, foreign worldview. Foreign to me anyway. And yet she is so knitted to my heart – and that love transcends all that is strange and different.
March 23
Before I go to sleep tonight I just want to tell you that I love you and I long for you to be here. (I can see your little face poking over the crib already!) I wonder what you’re doing now? It’s morning in China. I know you are fed and sheltered and covered in the shadow of His hand. He has called you out and will rescue you…
March 26th
Ken hung red fringe on the white Chinese lantern yesterday and we suspended it in the center of Hana’s room. It’s perfect. But another day and no news. It gets more and more difficult. Perhaps you’ve already been chosen and assigned to us and we just don’t know it yet. Maybe today…
April 1st
Hana’s picture came today! When we woke up this morning we were shocked to see about 7 inches of snow on the ground. The happy result, however, was that the kids had a snow day and were here when the package arrived. Once we had the FedEx envelope in hand, the four of us went into Hana’s room and sat on the floor under her lanterns to open it. Inside was a tiny color photo of our beautiful beautiful girl wrapped up in a little lavender cotton jacket. All of us laughed with pure joy and were fighting over her picture. Jennifer and Jacob had to have a copy for their wallets and a big one for their desk. I have the original in a small gold frame that I carry in my purse. And I have put her in my locket, close to my heart.
April 2
Ken is so emotional right now. It’s wonderful to see. He’s overwhelmed with love for Hana and gratitude to God – he’s really experiencing adoption. Tonight he just wept.
April 5th
Oh, little sparrow, I wish you could know the love and thought and prayer that’s going out for you right now! The tears that have been shed, the deep longing to hold you and see you safe and warm and healthy. And you will be…
But the days have slowed down and we feel like time has stretched to make you further away. Daddy dreams of you every night. Jacob takes your picture to school and sets it up on his desk. The other day he came home and said “Man, I stared at Hana’s picture all day and you know what? The more I look at her, the more beautiful she becomes. (Your brother is 13, by the way) That’s the way it is with real love and real beauty…
April 14th
I’m sitting in your room right now, in the rocker, with your picture next to me. The sun’s coming through the Irish lace curtains; your lanterns are gently swaying and the birds outside are singing. I think it’s finally spring and I long for your arrival! For you to be in your own little bed, surrounded by people who love you and treasure you and know your worth. Do you have any idea, little sparrow, the significance God places on your solitary life? The lengths that he has gone to to rescue you and give you a future and a hope? His deep unfailing love for you? You are his treasured possession – and mine as well. I’ve never held you, I haven’t seen you face to face – and yet I love you. You are my own daughter, born not of my flesh, but of my heart.
I think of you across the world, totally unaware of us. You do not know we are coming to bring you home, you do not know that you belong to this family. But we’re coming to you my daughter, Hana Jun Grace.
May 11th
Only a few more sleeps for you without a family.
May 16th
We are here in your city, little one. And today is your adoption day. Today you will come into our arms and our home, but you are already in our hearts. He has made a way for you little one – and today is your day!
As Hana and I read these -and many more excerpts together, our arms and legs entwined, our hearts entangled – we both wept. I experienced all over again the miracle of her conception in my heart, a seed that grew for many months in that heart, the months filled with turmoil and discomfort, the hope and the fear. And then the joyous day of delivery – the day we first saw her peeking through the bars on the orphanage balcony. The day she was finally placed in our waiting arms.
I have three children – all miracles, all deeply cherished and all unique. I share two of my children with the memory of birth parents they do not know, but whom we honor. We know that their life story did not start with us. But my prayer is that we would learn new language to speak about adoption in ways that respects the process as well as the incredible children that we are privileged to call our own.
Happy adoption day, Hana Jun Grace!
