My youngest daughter is going to turn 24 in about a week. I still remember coming home from the airport with her so many years ago. She was 2 ½ years old and we were bringing her to our home from China. I clearly remember thinking as we drove to our home, that this country that she knew nothing of would become all she knew, being too young still to have lasting memories of her home country.
Though young, she was highly fluent in Cantonese; our Chinese interpreters let us know that. She began learning English before setting foot on American soil and it was not long before we were able to converse with her.
We had brought her home in February and six months later she turned three. We thought there was a good chance that she had never had a birthday party so I was determined that we would make her third birthday a “big” event. We invited all of the neighbor kids and came up with games to play, one of which was “pin the tail on the donkey”. She loved Winnie the Pooh so that of course had to be the theme. We had a Winnie the Pooh cake, hats and napkins and she already had the cutest Winnie the Pooh sundress. We celebrated in style that day and I loved seeing how excited she got.
Fast forward fifteen years and she turned eighteen, just beginning her High School senior year. Ever the social girl, she invited a group of girls to a restaurant to celebrate her day. I still have a picture somewhere of all the girls in a smiling group, in front of the restaurant. They all looked carefree, young and adorable. The servers at the restaurant commented to us at the end of dinner that they appreciated how polite all the girls were. We were proud.
Some of the years after that have been harder. What I have come to learn as an adoptive mom is that it is not easy to be ripped from one’s home country, culture, language, and foster family. We meant well. Sometimes the adoptive wounds run deep though; deeper than we adoptive parents can bandage or even understand. Working through all of the feelings around adoption is a process, sometimes a painful one; but it has to be done to come out the other side with some sense of peace.
I know that I am not the first choice as her mom; I am the third, after her birth mother and then her foster mom who cared for her for two years and was clearly loved by my daughter. Actually, I wasn’t my daughter’s choice at all; at 2 ½, she was put into our family by the notation of some bureaucrat’s pen on the adoptive paperwork. For my daughter, it is hard to come to grips with that. For me, God sovereignly decided that we were the family for her and made sure that all the paperwork lined up to place her in our family. Someday, if she sees the adoption process from that perspective, I do think it will help.
If there is anything I have learned in life, it is that there are still really good things in life that happen even when there are also painful things. My daughter was unable to stay in the family of her birth; I was unable to conceive a girl. Instead, we got each other. It’s still good, just different.
To my second daughter: You bring joy to my life because you are you. You are not only beautiful, you are strong, determined, fearless and from the time you were very young, when you set a goal, you figured out a way to reach it. You are so creative and whatever you end up doing in life is going to be done with flair. You will figure life out and I will be cheering for you along the way. I absolutely would choose you again and know that you are doing the best you can in your relationship with me. You have had three mothers and I believe I can speak for all when I say we all love you. I have no doubt that all will be thinking of you on this birthday coming up. Love you bunches, Mom (happy to be #3)
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