What (Not) To Say Series, Part 3: Adoptive Families

This is our third and final post in our What (Not) To Say Series.  It is written by a guest contributor, "Nicky", who writes about her family at  Rowan Family Tree.  She and her husband created their family through international adoption and we are so glad that she has come on board for the final chapter in this series.

Photo Credit:  "Nicky" of Rowan Family Tree

Life is always exciting when you have two girls, two dogs, two cats and a dozen fish! Rowan Family Tree is a popular Ethiopian Canadian adoption blog chronicling the adventures of the Rowan family: mama “Nicky”, ababa “Jrock”, and twin daughters “Sugar and Spice”. Follow the love and the laughs at Rowan Family Tree.

The Mall Obstacle Course: What To Say to an Adoptive Family

The girls were getting cranky. I had been hauling them around the mall for an hour, picking up specialty shampoos for their tight dark curls and scouring sale bins for the size four clothes they would wear next season. My daughters, almost 4 year old twins, had reached their limit and were starting to drag their feet. So I sighed, bought them a cinnamon bun and sat down with them in the middle of the mall for a sanity break.

Next to us, there was a young couple in their twenties. They saw us and grinned. I passed a weary smile back at them. They started to whisper to each other in those loud secretive undertone that people do in public places where they think they can’t be heard. I knew what was coming: we had already been asked by at least 15 batches of strangers through the mall “are they twins?” At least 10 of them followed up with “They are so beautiful!” My Ethiopian-born daughters are lovely, and as a trans-racial family we constantly attract people’s curiosity. You can imagine how it slows a family with young children down, though, being forced to interact with strangers literally every three minutes. The kids get very tired of the attention too.

“Are they adopted?” a lady suddenly yelled across the 4 feet of space separating us.

My feeler went up, and I dryly stated back, “hello.”

She ignored the overt politeness correction.

“Uh... are they adopted?”

Now just imagine what it’s like to be in my daughter’s shoes here. Being looked up and down and being talked about as if they aren’t there.

“These are my daughters. My husband and I adopted them,” I commented, trying to look proud and not irritated.

More whispering. Then suddenly, “are their parents dead?”

Again, put yourself into my children’s shoes. Can you imagine complete strangers prying into your personal life in the food court, and prodding at your life’s biggest losses? I knew these folks had no social skills whatsoever, so I tried damage control, meanwhile willing the girls to chew their cinnamon buns more quickly.

“We don’t share our family’s personal history with strangers, I’m sorry.” I stated firmly.

“Oh.” The lady looked crestfallen. “We were just thinking of adopting and I’m interested.” Oh – I thought to myself. Maybe I had underestimated her intentions and she just had a deplorable sense of conversational appropriateness. But then she said “well, I mean, we haven’t started to try to have kids yet, but if we couldn’t have kids of our own, then maybe I’d think about it.”

Ok. That was it. I told the girls they could finish their cinnamon buns in the car, bundled them up, and struck out for freedom. We were only a few feet away from the food court when my daughter said to me in hushed tone, “Mommy, I don’t like people ask me many questions. Makes me sad.”

I tamped down my own heartbreak and knelt down in front of her. “Sweetheart, people are interested because you are twins. Twins are very special. They are also interested because you are very beautiful and I am very beautiful too.” She giggled. “We don’t have to answer all their questions, though. This is our privacy. Just like bodies. We don’t have to share our stories with everyone. We need to be polite, but we don’t need to answer their questions, do you understand?” she nodded, and we continued out the doors.

After that encounter, I shook my head to myself. I should have know better than to linger in the mall, where we run into stranger after stranger. In our own neighbourhood, we are relatively free to go about our business. The clerks in the pharmacy and the baristas in the coffee shop know us as a family and have long passed the point of asking questions. We’re simply seen as a part of the neighbourhood fabric.

But an adoptive family can’t hide out. In fact, what kind of message does it send to our children if we aren’t proud and confident in our family’s existence? So we try to answer all the questions with grace, answering for our children’s ears. And define boundaries when others step way beyond the bounds of privacy and politeness.

If you aren’t an adoptive parent, you probably are a little surprised by the scrutiny and challenges we face. Here are some ideas about ways to interact with adoptive families you meet at your mall (or other places, like the parking lot at elementary school.)

Great things to do:

• Smile. Show that you think the kids are cute or you appreciate our family by smiling. This also allows us to get on with our shopping without having to interact with people every three seconds, and we still get your message.

• Say nice things that affirm our relationship, like “your children are so beautiful.” Who objects to that? Just please don’t expect us to carry on a prolonged conversation when our toddler is tugging at our leg and we need to get on our way. Just keeping it at the one sentence is great.

• If you are interested in adoption as an option for building your family, say so. Right off the bat. Right after hi. Then we will know where you are coming from. An adoptive family is not by default a social service, so don’t expect us to answer your questions. But most parents I know are happy to point you to an agency or an adoptive families group for more information.

• Don’t take it personally if we don’t want to have a prolonged chat. The shear volume of inquiries means that we don’t necessarily want to talk about your sister’s friend’s uncle who adopted a kid from “I can’t remember where.” We are the parents of young children... we have no time.

Horrible things - do not do these:

• Use language that undermines our child’s position in our family. Many adoptive children go through phases of wondering how they fit in or if they belong. They don’t need to hear this from strangers too! Avoid language that questions our relationships, like asking if they are our own children or if we are their real parents. Of course we are real and they are our own. That’s why they are screaming “Daddy! I want a candy!!!” at the top of their lungs.

• Ask how much our children cost. Let me tell you why this is so offensive. Child-trafficking is the opposite of adoption – children are bought and sold as commodities. It’s reprehensible. Adoptive parents usually have to scrimp and save to pay for the travel to pick up their children and to pay for lawyers. But they in no way paid for the kids. To assume that, is aligning parents with an illegal and abhorrent practice. Pretty offensive. Plus think of the poisonous thoughts that plant in listening children’s heads.

• Prod into our children’s personal history: can you imagine a stranger asking you about your most traumatic times while in the grocery store line? Don’t ask about their previous life traumas, such as biological family, if they were abused or starved, or if they suffer FASD or AIDS or some other disease. Uncool. Rude. Across the line.

• Make assumptions about our children, their past or their abilities based on their colour or background. Even positive assumptions can be hurtful, such as assuming that an Asian child is supposed to be good at math. This is also known as racism.

The cinnamon incident actually happened close to a year ago. Now that the girls are older and have seemingly lost that puppy pheromone that attracts little old ladies and grandpa-types, the mall-stopping ratio has fallen to about five stops in an hour. Shopping is much easier.

*****

"Nicky" is a proud supporter of Vulnerable Children Society.  This fantastic Canadian non-profit takes care of impoverished children in Ethiopia, whose lives have been affected by HIV/AIDS.  To sponsor a child or learn more, please visit http://vulnerablechildren.ca/.

Thank you, Nicky, for sharing such valuable information about addressing adoptive families!

*****

Photo Credit:  Robyn of Dim Sum and Doughnuts

You should also check out another adoption blog. Robyn over at Dim Sum and Doughnuts wrote a very funny piece, based on a collaborative effort of other adoptive parents, about what not to say to adoptive families.  Her post, We Don't Care If You Stare, can be found here.  Read it.  It's good.  :)

Read Part 1: Pregnancy & Family Types
Read Part 2:  Families with Unique Children

And that ends our What (Not) To Say Series.  If there is a topic that you would like to see addressed, please leave a comment or email us.

Now go forth and be confident in speaking positively with families who appear different than your own.

What (Not) To Say Series, Part 2: Families with Unique Children

Over 20 years ago I met a girl named Laura at summer camp.  We lost touch for most of those years and found each other again on Facebook a while back.  I've been following her family on their family blog, called Little Feet In My House where she blogs about her beautiful family, love, and the human spirit.  We recently awarded Laura a blog award and I would award it to her again and again if I could.  Laura has four amazing children, one of whom is particularly unique. She has graciously accepted our invitation to contribute to our What (Not) To Say Series, and we're so happy about that.
 
So without further ado, read on and pass it on - everyone needs to see this...

*****

When Heather over at Significantly Simple asked me to do this post - a bit of a What Not To Say to families with unique children - I was more than honored. I know all children and all families are unique, but that's not what I am going to address. You see, I became a mother to a somewhat uniquely unique child what feels like a lifetime of nine months ago. I guess our journey of awareness started a little before that, but my fourth little baby, our precious little Amos Abraham entered this world May 24, 2010. Nine months ago. Amos has Down Syndrome.

I sent a shout out here requesting input from other parents of special kids, and have compiled what I received along with my own experiences thus far. If I had written this six, seven, or eight months ago, I may have said completely different things - but an overarching theme, without meaning any disrespect, was for people to just shut up and love. Don't bombard people with information and how much of a blessing a child with Down Syndrome is going to be in the early painful days. None of us as parents are asking anyone to fix the broken heart we may have felt in the beginning when the diagnosis is scary. Just give me a hug and cry with me. Reassure me that not only is it normal to feel sad, it's a vital part of the process.

Now these nine months later as Amos's mama, I am no longer in that sad stage, but have been astounded by the similarity of questions and comments that come from people who I trust have no malicious intentions in asking. I am going to address them here, as this sort of What Not To Say guide. Keep in mind I do have a sense of humor that can teeter on the edge of sarcasm - but since sarcasm means biting of the flesh, I do not wish to perpetuate pain on another human being who may have asked or thought any of these questions. I hope I don't offend anyone here. That is not my intention. I addressed a few of these in my post entitled spread the love, but here they all are, listed in no particular order. Some of them are simple, and some are mind-boggling. But that's just me.

Here goes:

1) "They can tell he has that this early?"

My desired response:
Are you joking? Did you not take biology in high school? How did I know it was called Trisomy 21 since grade 11? Three copies of the 21st chromosome, the usual one from one parent, and two (one extra!) from one parent - it's not just a developmental measurement that some kids don't measure up to. It's in their DNA. Chosen before conception. Was either the sperm or the egg, baby.

My actual response:
Yes, they can tell. (while sighing on the inside.)

2) "Are you still praying for his healing?"
I don't even have a desired or actual response for this one. I walked away, fighting tears. Ouch. This implies God didn't know what He was doing. This touches on my response to question #1. Down Syndrome is chosen at conception, or before, really. And if you are a follower of Jesus, you know that God is in control and has His hand in everything. This is not a problem that requires healing. I required healing to understand the blessing God had given me in the package that is my Amos, not the other way around. Ouch. That one is a zinger. Don't say it.

3) "How is he doing?"
This question is a lovely question - except for when it is asked with a thinly veiled condescending tone - this comes with a look of sympathy for what they are viewing as his condition ... spoken with some sense of 'awwww, you poor people, with your little one who has *gasp* Down Syndrome ...without actually taking into consideration he's gazing right at you from right here in my arms, or playing right in front of you.

My desired response:
He is perfect. He was released from hospital nearly eight months ago. He is just fine. He is my baby. He is our baby. He is our child. He eats. He sleeps. He cries (but hardly ever). He poops and pees. He smiles and laughs. He plays with his little toys, at his own rate of development. Just like any other baby. He rolls all the way across the floor. He is a delight. He is the easiest baby ever. He is amazingly cute. That's how he's doing. If someone has a baby in the hospital, you'd ask. If someone has had a baby at home for eight months do you still ask? Once they're well and at home, do you keep asking months and months and months later? No. This is not a condition, Amos is not a victim and neither are we. Please don't feel the need to feel sorry for or feel sympathetic towards us. He is our child. Just like your child is your child. That is all.

My actual response:
He's good. He's lovely. I love him.

4) "Do you know how high-functioning he will be? Can the doctors tell you anything?"

My desired response:
Do you know how high-functioning or how intelligent your child will be - standard set of chromosomes or not? Is the doctor (who sees my child a minutely, microscopically small percentage of the time in comparison to me, as his mother) really going to be the one to tell me this, nevermind when the child is yet an infant? How on earth would any parent of any child answer this question? Should I saunter over to your house and ask about your new baby "do you know how smart she will be?" Huh?

My actual response:
No. Not yet. But he's just fine.

5) "You guys aren't going to try to have another baby, are you? Now that you have one that's kind of broken?"

Again - this would have been another walkaway response for me. It was asked of my husband, not me - and when he reported it back to me, I cried. And then I got angry. And then he thought he shouldn't have told me. Our baby is not broken. Don't say this.

Another lovely mama of a baby with designer genes, Kelly (in Idaho), said one of the most hurtful things since the birth of her precious Nora that has been said to her has been, "So, are you guys gonna try again?" ...to have another baby girl, that is. As if they didn't get it right the first time. Crushing.

Amos spent the first four weeks of his life in the Children's Hospital. Those four weeks were the longest four weeks of my life. I felt like ten years passed in those four weeks. On one visit to see Amos, my dear friend accompanied us. In the car, she was regaling us with stories of her sweet and boisterous boys. In the conversation, she inadvertently used the R-word, and immediately caught herself and began apologizing profusely. I distinctly remember not being hurt so much by her use of the word at that time, but by her thought that she needed to apologize to us because we were now the parents of a boy who could be called that word.

I said "Please don't do that. No no no, please don't do that." At that point I was still so new to this club, and had not considered Amos ever being anything remotely close to the R-word. I stated simply, "Please, just don't call any of my children that word."

I feel differently about it now, but my point is that I didn't want to be treated differently because we had this child now. And I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for us. Don't feel sorry for us.

In many ways, I feel simply by being the mama to Amos and loving him so very deeply that I am inherently becoming an expert on how to deal with having a child with Down Syndrome, how to talk and what to say to parents or families of children with Down Syndrome or other conditions (I don't like using words like conditions - but please bear with me) - but please know I would be the first to admit that I am not an expert. I am far from it. I have only been a part of this club for 9 and a bit months. Some parents are veterans in this club, having raised their children with intellectual disabilities to adulthood. (our children are politically correctly referred to as having intellectual disabilities.) I have only been walking this road for nine months now, but when I look at my child, my Amos, I do not see any disability of any type. So I find even the term disabled offensive. Derogatory. Cruel. He is just Amos.

Amos and other children with Down Syndrome may indeed and will probably have lower intellectual capacity than me, or you, or several other people - but honestly? Some days my husband has lower intellectual capacity than I do. And adversely, some days I have lower intellectual capacity than him. Does this mean we, or anyone should be labelled as such? Does this mean we should be stereotyped, put in a box, and be made fun of? Or *gasp* called even more offensive terms? Retard(ed)? Agh, to even type out the R-word pains me to my very core. I admit, now so very shamefully, that I used this word before I was Amos's mama. I am utterly sorrowful to have ever had that word leave my lips. I'd like to use this opportunity to quote from Spread the Word to End the Word "to help eliminate the demeaning use of the R-word - a common taunt used to make fun of others. Often unwittingly, the word is used to denote behavior that is clumsy, hapless, and even hopeless. But whether intentional or not, the word conjures up a painful stereotype of people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. It hurts. Even if you don’t mean it that way." Definitely don't use the R-word.

Something that was pointed out to me for some of us parents, a big struggle when you have a child with intellectual disabilities and are Christian is that people will freely offer these cliché sentiments that, especially in the early days, are NOT helpful. "God is testing you." "God doesn't give you more than you can handle." You know what? Just don't say those things.

My very closest childhood friend had a tender, honest and careful conversation with me after Amos was born that touched me then, and touches me now. She said "I just don't know what to say."

Much like when someone we love dies, or a relationship ends in a painful and messy way, or we are mourning the loss of something significant... people often don't know what to say. Sometimes this is just a cue to say nothing. Be quiet, and just let the person mourn. And let them know you're present with them in that. It's okay to not know what to say, and to be honest about it.

My friend then sought out information to have a better idea of what to say to me - from another family she knew who has a boy with Down Syndrome. That lovely and wise mother told my dear friend, “Just tell her congratulations. Tell her congratulations just like you would if he didn't have Down Syndrome, because she just had a baby." Ah, when you see it laid out for you, you see how simple it is. The syndrome, the disability, the harsh and cruel reality of it all is not what defines us. One characteristic is not what defines anybody.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the bottom line is love, isn't it? Love. And sometimes just shut up and be quiet. This love doesn't apply only to Down Syndrome, it can apply to any thing or syndrome or disability or condition that may fall outside the realm of expectedness. A person or a baby or a child who looks a little differently? Who acts a little differently? Who walks or talks a little differently? Shut up and love them. Then speak with gentleness, and admit you don't know what to say. That goes a long way.

The interesting fact of it all, however, is that even as Amos's mama, I struggle with what to say to people, too. Amos is little. He was born nine months ago, but was nearly a month early - but his Down Syndrome makes him a little on the small side. And the delayed milestone achievements make him appear to be younger than he is. So when people anywhere - church, the grocery store, the mall, the park - ask “how old is he?” and I have my now well-rehearsed "nine months, but he was born early and had surgery and so is a little wee guy, blah blah blah" - and once in awhile I also say "and he also has Down Syndrome which makes him a little smaller than a typical baby his age".

But honestly? I'm even tired of the look of shock and deer in headlights look people get when they hear that - but I don't say it very often, because I know it isn't what defines him or defines me or defines us. But at the same time I don't want to feel like I'm sweeping it under the carpet (I felt like I did that for a length of time, pretending he was a typical baby in public places, and just relishing when people thought he was so cute and so lovely and they didn't know his diagnosis). Sigh. But then they were and are days when I see Down Syndrome in his face that made me so very, very sad in the beginning - and now makes me love him even more, and makes me love other people even more, because it is not a bad thing.

When I see other people with Down Syndrome now, too - oh goodness, I just want to scoop them up and squeeze them and tell them how proud I am of them - I think because they remind me so much of Amos. I haven't done it yet - but you know? Once I feel a little braver? Watch me, baby. I'm gonna be a-scoopin'! And in the meantime? It's significantly simple: shut up and love, baby.

Love big. Love all. That's all.

*****

If you know someone - anyone who could benefit from reading this post, share it with them.  It's valuable to know what to say and what not to say (or when to say it!), so please pass this on to someone it could help.

Read Part 1: Pregnancy & Family Types

What (Not) To Say Series, Part 1: Pregnancy & Family Types

We asked for your input and you provided very valuable insight. We received quite a number of responses -it isn't possible to address all of them, but we will be addressing 3 main topics, all revolving around family.

What (not) to say to others in regards to:

• Pregnancy, childbirth, and family planning
• Families with unique children
• Adoption

We do believe, for the very most part, that people have good intentions when they speak to us about family. Though spoken without malice, words have the power to inflict a powerful range of emotions, so it's best to either curb your tongue, not say anything at all, or be confident in that what you say will make the other feel good.






"Before the tongue can speak, it must have lost the power to wound."
~Peace Pilgrim~
All families have a beginning. For some, the beginning is the most difficult part; and devastatingly so when it's also the end. For many women, becoming pregnant is very, very difficult, and at times it may not happen at all.

Infertility is an extra-ordinarily difficult road for so many women - and likely someone you know. What makes it even more difficult is the response from others who simply don't understand what it is like to not be able to conceive a child, not carry a child to term, and finally to not hold your child in your arms. The woman who desires to, but cannot bear children knows better than anyone else what it feels like. Something she does not need to hear is, 'tsk, tsk that's too bad - I guess you could always adopt'. She may still be grieving for the pregnancy she assumed (and dreamed) would happen. She may want to pursue other medical options. She may not be ready to consider adoption. And she most certainly does not want to be pitied.

Photo Credit
Women who are able to conceive but suffer miscarriages experience an enormous range of emotions. Some shout their news from the rooftops and others celebrate in private. But none of them are ready for the sour taste of losing their baby. Miscarriage is an event that is grieved and it can happen at any time during pregnancy . A woman grieves not only her unborn child, but the future she imagined with her child. There are 2 things you should never, every say to someone who has lost a child to miscarriage. The first is "it's for the best - surely there was something wrong with the baby". When a woman is newly pregnant, she is positive that her child is absolutely perfect, and to tell her anything contrary, especially at this sensitive time, is insensitive. The second thing you should never say is "thank goodness it happened now and not later". There is no 'ideal' time to lose a baby - it happened, and it's a loss - both physically and emotionally. Please do not minimize the grief that she is entitled to.

Photo Credit
Families come in all sorts of sizes, and shapes. Some families have single children, some have many children, ome have mixed race children, some have twins and triplets, and some have kids that are all the same gender. None of this is rocket science! We had a lot of input on this topic - and we came out with very clear warnings about what not to say:

• When you see a family with many kids, don't assume they are uneducated and uninformed. Please do not make a crass statement about 'too many kids!'.  Large families are often a well thought our process and dedicated parents are fantastic at raising their kids.
• When you encounter a mom with twins or triplets, please don't ever ask if the woman took fertility drugs - it's simply no one's business.  And something I learned from the mom of triplets in my son's class:  treat each of the children as individuals - they are not a 'group of one'.
• When you see a family of all boys, don't ask them if they are going to try for a girl and then be surprised if they say no.  Same goes for all-daughter families.
• When you see a mixed race family it is not safe to assume the kids are adopted; nor is it safe to assume that the kids are biological.  Confused?  The fact is, it doesn't matter - they are someone's children and someone is their parent.  Either don't ask, or simply tell them they have a beautiful family.

Again, I understand we are well-intentioned, if not a little curious, about other families at times.  If there is a point to your asking about a certain situation, then get to the point quickly so the other knows why you're asking - chances are, they will be happy to discuss it with you, if it's relevant.

We have some fabulous guest bloggers coming up to discuss adoption (particularly international adoption) and families with a unique child or children, so stay tuned for their articles!

If you have something you'd like to add to this post, please comment here or drop us a line on our facebook page. :)

Read Part 2: Families with Unique Children

We Need Your Input - What Not To Say

We are working on a special series of posts, and we need your input.

The series is somewhat of a sensitive matter that we really believe needs to be addressed. We will be writing about what NOT to say to those in situations different than your own.

This idea was spurred on by the overwhelmingly positive reponse to Laila's What Not To Say To Those Who are Greiving post. It piqued our curiosity to see what else we shouldn't say, though we may be well intentioned. We'd like your input.

Please share with us what people say to you or ask about your family that you find inappropriate or offensive. Topics may include a special need, adoption, death, pregnancy, or anything else that troubles you.

This series will be written with the utmost respect to our contributors and you can trust that we respect your privacy. We are asking that you email your story to us at significantlysimple(at)gmail(dot)com.

Thank you for helping us to strengthen the trust families have in their communities.