Airports and Hospitals
When I was very little, I told my grandfather one day that I had figured out where babies came from. As he tells it, he warily allowed me to continue and was relieved when I announced, "They come from hospitals or airports, like me!"
Having been adopted, I spent the first four, morning-sick months of pregnancy miserably wondering, "Why does anyone do this?" I remember looking around at people at church one Sunday and thinking, "I can't believe someone went through this to bring every single one of these people into the world." To me, even with all the protracted uncertainties that can come from adoption, it seemed like a much, much preferable option: fill out some forms, chat with some social workers, and drive to the airport. My whole family still remembers the sunset over the Verrazano Narrows Bridge heading through New York on the beautiful September day my sister arrived at JFK. And she even came potty-trained.
Now that the first trimester is over, pregnancy is much more rewarding--it's really fun to feel the baby wiggling around, as she does a lot of the time now. It's gotten a little weird because she's now big enough and strong enough that when she moves, you can see it through my shirt (if you are looking for it--thankfully I don't think passersby could tell), which just brings home the whole Alien quality of the experience. But it's amazing to think that we've made this person, kind of out of nothing.
Still, one thing I'm even more convinced of is the absolute authenticity of the bonding process that comes through adoption--that it's equally as comprehensive and deep as that which comes through nurturing a baby inside your body. Maybe it's hard for people to imagine who haven't experienced it. I remember a classmate (even at my ultra-P.C. college!) saying that adoptive bonds simply couldn't be as strong as the bonds in his family because he could look at his family members and say, "This is where I get my hair," or "I get my nose from my mom."
What he didn't realize, I think, is that adoptees still feel that way--and anyway, it's kind of a silly argument because nobody would propose that people who don't look like their families don't bond with them as well. In my case, my sister and I have the same sense of humor. I get my recipe for pasta and my commitment to moderation from my mom; I get my respect for handiness around the house from my dad. I get my practicality and any sense of organization from my whole family. Given how scatterbrained I am, the discipline that I grew up with is probably the only thing that has given me any hope of surviving in this world.
I'm excited about meeting our baby because I'm intensely curious about what she'll look like--she'll be the only person I'm genetically related to (that I know), after all. Plus she'll be Amerasian, so it's harder to predict. As Sam points out, there aren't many Korean hillbillies out there (an advantage, we learned, when it comes to genetic disorders. We were at high risk for nothing). I feel certain that when she's born, I'll love her--I already do--in a way that I don't love anyone else. But my family has a snapshot of my mom, taken the moment they put me into her arms at the airport, and based on the euphoria of her expression, I can't imagine that she felt much differently.
Of course, her hair looked a lot better than I'm sure mine will (adjusting for the styles of the 70s), which just brings me back to my earlier point.
Having been adopted, I spent the first four, morning-sick months of pregnancy miserably wondering, "Why does anyone do this?" I remember looking around at people at church one Sunday and thinking, "I can't believe someone went through this to bring every single one of these people into the world." To me, even with all the protracted uncertainties that can come from adoption, it seemed like a much, much preferable option: fill out some forms, chat with some social workers, and drive to the airport. My whole family still remembers the sunset over the Verrazano Narrows Bridge heading through New York on the beautiful September day my sister arrived at JFK. And she even came potty-trained.
Now that the first trimester is over, pregnancy is much more rewarding--it's really fun to feel the baby wiggling around, as she does a lot of the time now. It's gotten a little weird because she's now big enough and strong enough that when she moves, you can see it through my shirt (if you are looking for it--thankfully I don't think passersby could tell), which just brings home the whole Alien quality of the experience. But it's amazing to think that we've made this person, kind of out of nothing.
Still, one thing I'm even more convinced of is the absolute authenticity of the bonding process that comes through adoption--that it's equally as comprehensive and deep as that which comes through nurturing a baby inside your body. Maybe it's hard for people to imagine who haven't experienced it. I remember a classmate (even at my ultra-P.C. college!) saying that adoptive bonds simply couldn't be as strong as the bonds in his family because he could look at his family members and say, "This is where I get my hair," or "I get my nose from my mom."
What he didn't realize, I think, is that adoptees still feel that way--and anyway, it's kind of a silly argument because nobody would propose that people who don't look like their families don't bond with them as well. In my case, my sister and I have the same sense of humor. I get my recipe for pasta and my commitment to moderation from my mom; I get my respect for handiness around the house from my dad. I get my practicality and any sense of organization from my whole family. Given how scatterbrained I am, the discipline that I grew up with is probably the only thing that has given me any hope of surviving in this world.
I'm excited about meeting our baby because I'm intensely curious about what she'll look like--she'll be the only person I'm genetically related to (that I know), after all. Plus she'll be Amerasian, so it's harder to predict. As Sam points out, there aren't many Korean hillbillies out there (an advantage, we learned, when it comes to genetic disorders. We were at high risk for nothing). I feel certain that when she's born, I'll love her--I already do--in a way that I don't love anyone else. But my family has a snapshot of my mom, taken the moment they put me into her arms at the airport, and based on the euphoria of her expression, I can't imagine that she felt much differently.
Of course, her hair looked a lot better than I'm sure mine will (adjusting for the styles of the 70s), which just brings me back to my earlier point.
posted by Tara | 2:10 PM
6 Comments:
I love this post. And I'm really happy for you guys - and excited to hear about the last stages of pregnancy and your sweet little girl!
The only person you know whom you're genetically related to ... wow! I hadn't thought about that. That's a really neat point.
I have to totally agree with your premise about the bond being as strong with adoption. Not that I would know from experience, but it seems right. Lizzy growing inside me was interesting, and is good for a few stories now ('you and I really wanted the same real estate on my upper right ribcage!' or, 'when your dad tried to kiss my tummy, you kicked him in the mouth -- twice!'), but honestly, I was a slow bonder. I would think that the very intentionality of the adoption process, not to mention the rigors involved and the delay, would build every bit as much anticipation and joy on arrival.
And, ohhh, to have a child arrive on a plane, fully potty-trained and out of the infant stage ... that just sounds far, far too good.
Cool thoughts!
what a lovely post. thanks for writing it, tara!
There are many many parents whose experience of the adoption process has been a far more painful, more time consuming gestation then the relatively standard 9 month process. I have thought about the differences between adoption and biological birth...and I am fairly certain that as soon as I saw that child, I would know they were "mine". I would stand up for, stand by, nurture, discipline and love that child just as much.
On the adoptees side of it, adoption can mean something utterly different. I do believe my experience has been unlike many others. Tara, I think our lives have turned out far differently than some adoptees because Mom and Dad held absolutely no preconceived notion of "different" or not truly "mine". Family means so much more than blood and chromosomes.
Thanks all, and hello to my sister! In response to (and support of) her thoughts, both adoption and pregnancy mean taking on the risk of far-greater-than-usual inconvenience, expense, discomfort, uncertainty, danger, and emotional stress . . . and time, since many people spend years trying to become pregnant and carry a pregnancy to term. But then, even birth is only the beginning of these things!
I can vouch for Anjuli's ability to spot a being and say, "That is mine." It happened with our cat. There's just no question that it was the perfect choice of cat!
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