Madonna has caused me quite a bit of emotion this week. The press is giving her hell over her attempt to adopt another orphan from Malawi. (Here's one example.) Reporters are questioning her motives, tactics, timing and fitness as a parent. The commenters on the online sites are downright cruel in their criticisms of her. And I'm pissed.
Now, I'm not saying that I know anything about Madonna's motives, tactics, timing or fitness as a parent. For all I know, she could be Cruella DeVil, Miss Hannigan or Mommy Dearest. What frustrates me is the double standard society places on adoptive parents. When a couple announces to the world that they are pregnant, the first response they get is, "How wonderful!" But when they announce they are adopting, the first question is, "Why?"
My question back to the world is, "Why does it matter?" Or, specifically, why do the motives of adoptive parents matter so much and the motives of biological parents matter so little? Women get pregnant for all the wrong reasons all the time. They're lonely. They think it will save their marriage. Their parents want them to do it. They're about to turn 18 and they want to keep getting free health insurance from the government. Sometimes *gasp* women get pregnant without even wanting to!
I concede that adoption is not nature's ideal for forming a family. It certainly does create opportunities for evil people to attempt to exploit children. But that is why every country - even those in the third world - has very strict laws about who can adopt and under what circumstances. If Madonna is doing something wrong, then either the Malawian or the American (or maybe in this case British) governments will catch her. The Haitians made us put our entire lives on paper before they would even consider our adoption. They have copies of my passport, driver's license, Social Security card, birth certificate, marriage certificate, mortgage, and even my tax returns for the last three years. They wanted letters of recommendation from our doctors, employers, bank, friends and the local police department. All of those documents were prefaced with a cover letter we wrote explaining personally why we wanted to adopt an orphan from Haiti.
And all you need to get pregnant is a working uterus and a guy who wants to have sex. (At least one of those things is very easy to find.) No one asks why. So, I don't think it's fair for people to criticize Madonna or Angelina Jolie or Sheryl Crow or any of the other famous (or not famous) adoptive parents. Wanting to be a mommy is not a crime.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Counting in whole numbers
Tonight I got the chance to talk with the House of Hope manager, Angelo, who got the chance to talk to our lawyer in Haiti. The lawyer expects to apply for Vivine's passport next week. Before getting the passport, the Haitian Ministry of the Interior has to approve our adoption, too. Yes, the Haitian child welfare agency and the court system approved the adoption already, but this is another hoop we have to go through. Actually, first the Ministry of Justice has to authenticate all of the documents from the court, then the Ministry of the Interior will look at it, then the passport will be issued. Then, after that, the Haitians hand the adoption over to the Americans for them to approve it.
You can see why I often say, "I don't know," when people ask how must longer we have in the adoption process. We technically only have two major steps left, but there are minor steps in between. It reminds me a lot of the tap dancing classes I took as a kid. The beginners count tap steps in whole numbers - "Five, Six, Seven, Eight." Once you get a little more advanced, your counting starts to sound like "And-a-one-and-a-two-and-a-three-and-a-four." For adoption purposes, it makes life easier to count in whole numbers. I know those half steps, those "and-as" are there, but I try to ignore them because its-a-easy-to-a-lose-a-your-mind-and-a-such-when-you-count-a-the-spaces-between-a-each-step.
You can see why I often say, "I don't know," when people ask how must longer we have in the adoption process. We technically only have two major steps left, but there are minor steps in between. It reminds me a lot of the tap dancing classes I took as a kid. The beginners count tap steps in whole numbers - "Five, Six, Seven, Eight." Once you get a little more advanced, your counting starts to sound like "And-a-one-and-a-two-and-a-three-and-a-four." For adoption purposes, it makes life easier to count in whole numbers. I know those half steps, those "and-as" are there, but I try to ignore them because its-a-easy-to-a-lose-a-your-mind-and-a-such-when-you-count-a-the-spaces-between-a-each-step.
Monday, March 23, 2009
New arrival
PC and I flew to Minneapolis last weekend for the baptism of the littlest Langdon, Jacob Alexander. The photos from our camera look only so-so (lots of blurry edges and red eyes).
At the font. Now J.Gerd and I are co-godmothers!
Yes, I am married to the Godfather. Now my life is complete.
The poor-quality photos from our camera do not bother me too much, since Jacob and the people around him were photographed approximately 10,000 times by eight cameras during the 48 hours we spent in Minnesota. PC posted some candid-looking shots on Facebook, but don't be fooled. We were posing the entire weekend. Here's some tips for those of you who might be welcoming the first grandchildren into your extended family soon:
This papparazza got caught in the act.
We had a wonderful time getting to know Jacob and watching his parents in action. Hopefully it won't be long before Jacob can meet his cousin, Vivine!
At the font. Now J.Gerd and I are co-godmothers!
Yes, I am married to the Godfather. Now my life is complete.
The poor-quality photos from our camera do not bother me too much, since Jacob and the people around him were photographed approximately 10,000 times by eight cameras during the 48 hours we spent in Minnesota. PC posted some candid-looking shots on Facebook, but don't be fooled. We were posing the entire weekend. Here's some tips for those of you who might be welcoming the first grandchildren into your extended family soon:
- Try to get the first shower. Picture taking begins early in the morning, and you don't a photo of you in your bathrobe or old sweats to end up in the baby book.
- Apply lipstick often.
- When being shot on multiple cameras, look at the one that looks the most expensive and ask the photographer to e-mail you copies.
- If you really don't want your picture taken, then don't hold the baby. (Good luck there. Resisting the urge to hold a new baby, is like trying not to scratch a mosquito bite. Doing it once only makes you want to do it again and more often.)
This papparazza got caught in the act.
We had a wonderful time getting to know Jacob and watching his parents in action. Hopefully it won't be long before Jacob can meet his cousin, Vivine!
Monday, March 16, 2009
The business of hope
I must confess, my little fit from the most recent post lasted beyond the five minutes allotted. As always, though, I managed to get out of it by putting one foot in front of the other and just getting on with my life. I did yardwork, went to a dinner party, attended worship, celebrated a friend's birthday, wrote a short paper and even watched a little TV. Somewhere along the way, I realized I didn't feel so sad anymore.
I had an interesting conversation with J.Gerd on Saturday about hope and the adoption process. She wanted to know what hope looks like when you are waiting for your adopted child. For me, it just looks like normal life. I express my hope by going on about my business. If I trust God to work out the adoption process (and I do), then I don't have to spend all day crying, staring at Vivine's photo or obsessively searching the Internet for clues about what the Haitian government will do next. Oh sure, I do those things, but I have learned they make me more hopeless, not hopeful. I mean, nothing is more hopeless than trying to do God's work for him. The times that I feel the best and the most hopeful are the times when I let God do his work, and I do mine. Cleaning the house, hanging out with friends, going to work, cooking dinner, volunteering at church - that's my bill of work, and my hope, for right now.
I had an interesting conversation with J.Gerd on Saturday about hope and the adoption process. She wanted to know what hope looks like when you are waiting for your adopted child. For me, it just looks like normal life. I express my hope by going on about my business. If I trust God to work out the adoption process (and I do), then I don't have to spend all day crying, staring at Vivine's photo or obsessively searching the Internet for clues about what the Haitian government will do next. Oh sure, I do those things, but I have learned they make me more hopeless, not hopeful. I mean, nothing is more hopeless than trying to do God's work for him. The times that I feel the best and the most hopeful are the times when I let God do his work, and I do mine. Cleaning the house, hanging out with friends, going to work, cooking dinner, volunteering at church - that's my bill of work, and my hope, for right now.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Just five minutes
I recently read about a lady who, when she is feeling pitiful and whiny, sets a timer and gives herself five minutes to have a total crab fest. She said getting all of the self-pity out at once keeps it from leaking out for the rest of the day and ruining the whole day. This morning I woke up with that feeling that no one else in the world has a life as hard as mine, and no one can possibly understand what it is like to be me. It's 8:55 a.m. Let's see if I can turn this day around in five minutes. Here, we, go...
Last night I saw Vivine in my dreams. She was in the orphanage crying, "Lynde! Lynde! Lynde!" and I couldn't do anything. I could see her, but she couldn't see me.
In 2006, PC and I took 16 teenagers to the ELCA national youth gathering in San Antonio. We had such a wonderful time that we thought, "Hey, maybe we are ready to have kids." Now our church is getting ready for the next youth gathering because, hey, they happen every three years. I am not going. Every time I hear about the youth gathering, I'm just reminded of how awfully long it has taken for us to become parents.
I don't know how much longer I can keep faking a smile when people ask me about the adoption. I am ready for it to be over NOW.
OK, five minutes is up. I think I can face the day now.
Last night I saw Vivine in my dreams. She was in the orphanage crying, "Lynde! Lynde! Lynde!" and I couldn't do anything. I could see her, but she couldn't see me.
In 2006, PC and I took 16 teenagers to the ELCA national youth gathering in San Antonio. We had such a wonderful time that we thought, "Hey, maybe we are ready to have kids." Now our church is getting ready for the next youth gathering because, hey, they happen every three years. I am not going. Every time I hear about the youth gathering, I'm just reminded of how awfully long it has taken for us to become parents.
I don't know how much longer I can keep faking a smile when people ask me about the adoption. I am ready for it to be over NOW.
OK, five minutes is up. I think I can face the day now.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
A story from my trip to Haiti
You never know what you are going to see in Haiti. Even though you rarely leave the orphanage, you see scenes of Haitian life and culture outside the windows all day, like one of those 8mm videos of "indigenous peoples" we watched in my college anthropology class. Tarantulas climb the outside wall. A neighbor's dog stands up on the roof of his house and barks for the whole city to hear. A shoe-shiner walks down the dirt road ringing a bell to attract customers. Every few hours, a truck drives by playing a tinny, mechanical version of "My Heart Will Go On." At first I thought it was an ice cream truck, but our leader told me it was the Water Truck. I guess clean water is as much of a treat in Haiti as ice cream is in the United States.
One morning, I heard Carole, the boss of the orphanage, yell at me from the front yard, "Lynde! Come out here and see this baby!" Not knowing what to expect, I went outside and saw a young girl with an even younger, school-aged, child and a baby girl. None of them were smiling. I learned that the girl was 22, and she had come to ask the orphanage to take in her two children.
Even with new experiences slapping me in the face daily in Haiti, I never expected to see that. When I'm at House of Hope, I spend all day surrounded by happy, well-fed, hyperactive children. It is easy to forget that every little girl there started out like those two forlorn girls in the front yard - hungry, scared and no reason to smile.
I learned that the medium-sized kid was six and the baby was one. I tried not to look at the mother. She made me feel inexplicably guilty and insufficient. (Those feelings are actually a little explicable, but I won't go into them now.) I tried to look at the children instead, but the mom kept gazing at me with big, desperate eyes like headlights. I couldn't avoid them. As soon as we made eye contact she handed me her baby. I didn't know what to do; my conscience, emotions and reason were all akimbo like a needle on a broken compass. You see, when you really, really want to be a mother but you can't seem to get there, holding a baby is different. You snuggle them really close to your body, hoping to absorb some of the baby-ness into you. You think in your head, "See, God? I can do this!" And maybe, just for a split second, you pretend the baby is yours, and you try on motherhood like an expensive dress you know you will have to put back on the rack, but, damn, it looks good on you now.
The baby fell asleep in my arms while I swayed my hips back and forth. She got hot and sweaty, and I sat down under a mango tree to cool off. I held her while the mother answered questions from the Haitian orphanage director about the girls and their history. I knew the reality was that House of Hope probably couldn't take in these girls. The orphanage is almost full, and it does not accept little babies. I knew the mom had likely already visited several orphanages, and she might have to visit several more to find a safe home for her girls. After the conversation, I handed the baby back over to the mom and ran upstairs to find some clothes to give to the little girls. Then they left.
I saw them again, waiting in the orphanage yard as we rode off in the van for the airport. I thought about how unfair the world is. I get to go back to the richest country in the world, where I can do pretty much whatever I want. The three of them have to stay in Haiti, where they must choose between being together and surviving. I have ample means to care for children, and yet I have none, while she has more than she can handle. I don't know why, and I don't know what the answer is, but I hope that, in Heaven, we won't all be equal. I hope the starving mothers and children of this world will feast next to God at the head table of Heaven while we who were rich on Earth wait out in the yard for them to come feed us. I hope God has a plan for setting right all of the unfair-nesses of this world, that in Heaven we will have peace AND justice.
One morning, I heard Carole, the boss of the orphanage, yell at me from the front yard, "Lynde! Come out here and see this baby!" Not knowing what to expect, I went outside and saw a young girl with an even younger, school-aged, child and a baby girl. None of them were smiling. I learned that the girl was 22, and she had come to ask the orphanage to take in her two children.
Even with new experiences slapping me in the face daily in Haiti, I never expected to see that. When I'm at House of Hope, I spend all day surrounded by happy, well-fed, hyperactive children. It is easy to forget that every little girl there started out like those two forlorn girls in the front yard - hungry, scared and no reason to smile.
I learned that the medium-sized kid was six and the baby was one. I tried not to look at the mother. She made me feel inexplicably guilty and insufficient. (Those feelings are actually a little explicable, but I won't go into them now.) I tried to look at the children instead, but the mom kept gazing at me with big, desperate eyes like headlights. I couldn't avoid them. As soon as we made eye contact she handed me her baby. I didn't know what to do; my conscience, emotions and reason were all akimbo like a needle on a broken compass. You see, when you really, really want to be a mother but you can't seem to get there, holding a baby is different. You snuggle them really close to your body, hoping to absorb some of the baby-ness into you. You think in your head, "See, God? I can do this!" And maybe, just for a split second, you pretend the baby is yours, and you try on motherhood like an expensive dress you know you will have to put back on the rack, but, damn, it looks good on you now.
The baby fell asleep in my arms while I swayed my hips back and forth. She got hot and sweaty, and I sat down under a mango tree to cool off. I held her while the mother answered questions from the Haitian orphanage director about the girls and their history. I knew the reality was that House of Hope probably couldn't take in these girls. The orphanage is almost full, and it does not accept little babies. I knew the mom had likely already visited several orphanages, and she might have to visit several more to find a safe home for her girls. After the conversation, I handed the baby back over to the mom and ran upstairs to find some clothes to give to the little girls. Then they left.
I saw them again, waiting in the orphanage yard as we rode off in the van for the airport. I thought about how unfair the world is. I get to go back to the richest country in the world, where I can do pretty much whatever I want. The three of them have to stay in Haiti, where they must choose between being together and surviving. I have ample means to care for children, and yet I have none, while she has more than she can handle. I don't know why, and I don't know what the answer is, but I hope that, in Heaven, we won't all be equal. I hope the starving mothers and children of this world will feast next to God at the head table of Heaven while we who were rich on Earth wait out in the yard for them to come feed us. I hope God has a plan for setting right all of the unfair-nesses of this world, that in Heaven we will have peace AND justice.
Friday, March 6, 2009
More video
PC somehow managed to edit hours of video from Haiti this week and still accomplish successful pastoring and husbanding. He is a machine. All I did was work, go to McDonald's and sleep.
This video is my favorite!
PC accomplished something else this week. He scouted out a preschool for Vivine! We figured that since the Haitians say she will be home this summer, we should start making plans for the fall. We plan to send her to the public preschool in our school district. It meets all of our needs. They even have an English-as-a-Second-Language teacher who comes once a week to work with a few of the kids from immigrant families who don't speak English at home. So Vivine will have extra help learning English. I can't wait to get our little school girl home!
This video is my favorite!
PC accomplished something else this week. He scouted out a preschool for Vivine! We figured that since the Haitians say she will be home this summer, we should start making plans for the fall. We plan to send her to the public preschool in our school district. It meets all of our needs. They even have an English-as-a-Second-Language teacher who comes once a week to work with a few of the kids from immigrant families who don't speak English at home. So Vivine will have extra help learning English. I can't wait to get our little school girl home!
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