Our Scars Tell Our Stories: Bex's Adoption Story

I'm excited that I have another guest post for ya'll! My dear friend Bex is sharing her story of open adoption. She's a birthmom to her son, Kip. She placed him for adoption in 2008, less than a year before I got pregnant with Lily. I knew about her story and reached out to her when I needed a friend and someone who understood what I was going through. She was that friend to me, helping me through my pregnancy and through my wrestling with the choice of adoption or parenting. Her friendship has been incredibly precious to me in how we've helped each other process our experiences. Besides Lily's father, she was literally the first person to know about her. I know you'll be blessed to read what she's written. She could have shared so much and I hope you'll follow along with her adoption story on Instagram to read much more (link at the end of the post). I wanted to share stories of people touched in multiple ways by adoption, to share the beautiful and the hard, because after all, adoption is born out of loss. It's incredibly important to truly hear other people's stories and perspectives. It helps us learn to be empathetic and loving when we get outside of our own bubbles and recognize we have much to learn from the experience of others. I pray Bex's words will especially touch those considering placing their child for adoption themselves and those who've adopted a child or are considering adoption one.

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I was 18, from a "good home," and I "knew better." I had run from hurt straight into more. I found myself carrying the baby of someone I didn't have a healthy relationship with.

"How will I tell the people I love that I am pregnant? What will they say and think? What if something happens and I don't actually have to deal with this?" Irresponsible. Dirty. Not good enough. Shame sneaks in and pins me down. My belly grows and there are now stretch marks... evidence of my mistake. Who would want me with this story and these scars?

I moved to Colorado to be with a friend and her family who took me in and loved the mess I was. They supported me in looking into all my options. Adoption was presented and I balked at the idea. I could never give my baby to a family I didn't know and go on living life wondering about him. Through the course of the summer I became educated about the option of adoption. When I learned about open adoption I knew this was the only way I could move forward in making an adoption plan. Open adoption means the birth family and adoptive family share personal/identifying information and communicate directly, but it doesn't necessarily mean anything beyond that...it's really up to the particular triad as to how that is handled and plays out.

God brought a couple into my life that "happened" to be working with the same agency I was. We built a relationship and began to move forward with the adoption plan. We talked about what it would look like for us to choose open adoption. We knew it wouldn't be easy, but it would be healthy and best for all of us. There isn't a contract of guidelines stating how the open adoption will work, so this means there has to be an abundance of grace for each other.

My labor and delivery was not at all what I planned. After many hours of no progression, my son, Kipling, was born via cesarean. November 1, 2008, 9:25p, 7lb 8 oz, 21 in. The days following I was healing from major surgery, trying to be a mom, and dealing with emotional and mental stress. All too soon it was time for us to part; I signed final relinquishment paperwork while holding him...it was surreal. He went home to his new life and I left empty handed and broken-hearted.

I did not seek post placement counseling....I was told the grief I felt was normal and it would eventually subside. I was told so often that I was brave and strong, which I *heard* as "you are strong, strong people aren't sad about decisions they've made like this." Looking back I realize that is not what was meant, but this is how I applied those words.

Not terribly long ago I was attending a birth (I am a doula) and a nurse said to the client, "you do all this work and then you get to take your baby home!" I about lost it because all I could think was "I did this and I didn't get to take my baby home." This pushed me to get professional counseling. Through counseling I was able to continue processing my birth story. One of the biggest things that came out of this was learning to not bottle my emotions up, because they would just be a huge mess near Kip's birthday, visits, and holidays. It's a process...I didn't finish that season of counseling having it all together. I'm so thankful to my counselor for the hours she put into listening to my story, letting me feel all the feels with no judgement, teaching me healthy ways to process grief, and for affirming what is true!

Bex, her husband Ben, and Kip at their wedding

There have been seasons when I've struggled with how our open adoption relationship functions, and seasons when it is everything I could hope for it to be. But this is the joy of openness...there is a relationship to be had! I'm so thankful E and L have always been open to me. And with that there is great peace and joy in knowing my little boy is happy, healthy, and so very loved. This is the tension of adoption, it is beautiful and hard.

Earlier I mentioned the shame and guilt I felt after finding out I was pregnant. There are still days when I don't remember Who I am in and the shame sneaks back in. There are still days when I look down and cringe at my stretch marks. But there are days I am able to rest in God's healing. He goes before and comes behind giving each piece of my story a purpose, banishing shame, and giving me grace and forgiveness.

If you are considering placing your child for adoption, I want you to know I am here for you. Feel free to follow my adoption story on Instagram @bex_tummymommy

Here is a beautiful video from Kip's Entrustment Ceremony.

"We pray that you'll always know that the reason that you have two families is not because you were loved less, but because you were loved more."

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Bex and I in Denver, Colorado in 2015.

Here are our friendship bracelets with our tattoos for the little ones who brought us together in friendship. She was one of the first to know the name that is now forever on my wrist.

Bex and I with Kip at his 3rd birthday party in 2011. :)

You can read all the posts I've shared about Bex and Kip by clicking here.

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A Story of Hope for National Adoption Month

I'm excited that I have a few guest blog posts coming your way. Today I am sharing my cousin Hope's adoption story. November is National Adoption Month and I will be highlighting a couple different stories of adoption (just a bit late). I think it's incredibly important to truly hear other people's stories and perspectives. It helps us learn to be empathetic and loving when we get outside of our own bubbles and recognize we have much to learn from the experiences of others. Hope was adopted from China at 17-months and has been such a gift to my family. She just fits. Out of all the billions of people in the world, God so clearly chose her for us and us for her. :) Hope's mother is my mother's sister. I appreciate Hope's transparency. She is currently a nursing student at James Madison University and has a heart for others. She is kind, she is funny and exuberant and though I might be biased, I think she is one special gal.

Hope and I over Thanksgiving... I am trying to find photos of us when we were little

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I think many people have misconceptions about adoption. Maybe they believe that it's out of their reach, maybe they question their parenting abilities, or maybe they're afraid or unsure of what actually happens during the process, but to me, adoption is one of the most sacrificial actions a couple can take to become a parent. To actually love and take in someone that doesn't look like you, someone that might not even speak your language, is the ultimate act of breaking down cultural barriers and discrimination. Often times our society celebrates the grandiosity of childbirth, all the while forgetting that there are children born every day who are left as orphans. You can't accidentally adopt a child, but you can have an unplanned pregnancy. Adoption is deliberate and intentional. Now I'm not one to slam having a biological birth. In fact, I would like to have my own birth children someday (but not anytime soon because I'm literally so single right now). But what I'm trying to say is that no one should feel ashamed for being adopted, they are not forgotten, but chosen.

My adoption story starts on a February day, when I was much shorter, fatter, and younger. The social worker handed me off to my bright-eyed mom, cheeks glistening with tears as my dad's shaky home video camera captured the whole moment. During the first two days, my parents kept calling me by my wrong Chinese name, but I didn't care. I was Hope. When they brought me home, I was met with warm salutations.

Growing up, my parents never hid the fact that I was adopted. I mean, at some point, they'd have to explain why I looked different from them. They never tried to stifle my culture or make me feel ashamed of it. In fact, when I was younger, we used to celebrate Chinese New Year and we still stay in contact with the families who adopted children through the same agency we went through. I'm not going to lie to you and say that my childhood was perfect, and yes, there have been times where I have thought about my birth parents and what my life could've been. But I am here now, my life is good, and for awhile, I didn't think much about my race or how much adoption has shaped my life.

My parents treated me so much like their own that at times I forgot that I was even Asian. I went to a small, private middle school and even high-school, so I was somewhat sheltered from criticisms that come with my race. It wasn't until I went to a large state college that I truly became aware of myself. People change so much in their early 20's so I guess it really was a proper time to grow my autonomy and become secure in my identity.

During my freshman year, I became best friends with a girl from my church. She is Latina (Mexican to be exact) and she would always invite me to her family gatherings, where I would be the only "non-Latina." Most of her family only spoke Spanish so I had a great opportunity to utilize my very limited Spanish that I learned in high-school and actually use it in conversation. I learned many Spanish slang words and I can say I am conversational now, working on fluency. Her madre (mother) taught me how to cook posole (a Mexican tomato soup with chicken, chickpeas, and lettuce) and I became a fanatic for REAL tacos, not that Taco Bell stuff. My friends taught me Spanish dances such as bachata, salsa, merengue, cumbia, and corridos and we always have a fiesta when we are together. Most times, I feel more comfortable with my Latino friends than my peers on campus. My friend's family culturally "adopted" me, I was their mija (affectionate name to call a daughter). Now there was a period during my sophomore and junior year where this really bothered me, seeing her being so comfortable with HER culture and knowing that regardless of if I was with my adoptive parents or her family, I still was the fish out of water. I often felt left out, questioning my cultural identity. Disclaimer: my parents never made me feel unaccepted, my displaced cultural situation was an automatic consequence of my adoption. I am bound to feel "out of place."

But see the thing is, throughout all this I've come to realize that my life situation makes me unique. How many people have met an Asian who was adopted by white American parents yet is culturally Hispanic? Whereas in the past, I felt out of place, but now I know that I'm right where I need to be. We as humans love to make boxes and keep people in those boxes. Adoption breaks all boundaries and upsets the neatly organized picture in our heads and forces one to create a new scene, create a new picture, one that has never been drawn before. With so much hate in this world towards people of different skin tones, I disagree that "not seeing color" is the correct response. You are allowed to see color. You are allowed to see race. You're just not allowed to judge someone BASED on their race. I want you to be able to see me as fully Asian and fully Latina and fully American because guess what, that's who I am. Denying a part of me is denying my entirety.

Bumma!!!

Adoption is beautiful because I know God put me exactly in the places and situations He's called me to. God brought together a perfect cultural family for me, He has given me a culture I am comfortable with. He has given me parents I am beyond grateful for. He really had something up His sleeve when He paired me with my mom and dad! I am never mad at my biological parents, I have never held anything against them. They gave up their daughter, completely took a risk and trusted that I'd end up with a family that cared for me. I am never mad at my adoptive parents (okay, except for when I was a disgruntled teenager), I have never held anything against them. They adopted a daughter, completely took a risk and trusted that our family would be all they hoped it to be. But let me tell you mom and dad, our family is beyond what you could have ever Hoped for.

Thank you God for making me who I am. Gracias a Dios para hacerme quien soy. 感谢上帝让我成为我

Blessings y Saludos,

Hope

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Handmade Mother's Day Cards

A little project I did this year in Lily's honor for Mother's Day was to make handmade cards for some people who the day is bittersweet for... most of them were for mothers who have lost babies and don't have any living children (*still* mothers like me, who hold a special place in my heart... this may be the only Mother's Day card or wishes they'll receive), mothers who do have living children as well as babies in Heaven and I am close with or this was the first year without their little one, a friend who is a birthmother who placed her son for adoption, friends who lost their mothers, and those who always wanted children but are not at the age where they most likely will never have them, and friends who are battling infertility. In Lily's memory, I wanted to send some love and light to these precious people. Card-making is something I got into while I was carrying Lily, so it's a craft that makes me feel close to her. I wish I could send one to everyone I know! #LilysLegacy #handmadewithlove #snailmail 💕 

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*You* Are Remembered This Mother's Day

Mother's Day can sting for many people for many different reasons. For some it is difficult to believe that it could be anything but happy.

I want to acknowledge mothers of all kinds - those who hold children in their hearts rather than their arms, "typical" mothers of biological children, birthmothers, foster mothers, spiritual mothers, adoptive mothers, single mothers, stepmothers, grandmothers, and pregnant mothers.

I also want to mention the women who never got to be mothers, though they longed to be.

I am thinking of the women who desire to be mothers, but because of many different reasons (such as infertility, failed adoption, singleness) they haven't become one yet.

I am thinking of those who are separated from their mothers by death and are fiercely missing them.

I am thinking of those who have broken relationships with either their mother or children.

I pray the God of all hope will fill each of you with peace, comfort, and joy on this day, whether it be completely happy or bittersweet. 💕💐

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Friendship Bracelets and Tattoos

Here's another post I've been meaning to publish...

Last August, I went out to Colorado a few days before I was to arrive at Ellerslie, to spend time with my friend, Bex. You may remember reading about her before (click HERE to read the posts about her and our friendship). She placed her son for adoption less than a year before I got pregnant with Lily. I knew about her story and reached out to her when I needed a friend and someone who understood what I was going through. She was that friend to me.

Here are our friendship bracelets with our tattoos for the little ones who brought us together in friendship 6 1/2 years ago.

 

She was one of the first people to know about my little flower and the first person to know the name that is now forever on my wrist. 

We had a wonderful visit, going to Boulder, downtown Denver, and just hanging out drinking coffee and sharing our hearts. Every year in August, I am reminded of how we became friends that same month in 2009. It was interesting that the first day I arrived to her house, she got a reminder on her Facebook Memories that we became "friends" that exact day 6 years before... I never could have imagined all that would happen in those years and what a dear friend she would turn out to be. :)

 

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What's Mine is Yours

There is a song I heard last year that I was recently thinking of again and realized I never shared it here. It is called "What's Mine is Yours" by Katherine Nelson (she shares my girl's middle name). The song really touches on many things from stillbirth to adoption to unplanned pregnancy... so many things that are close to my heart.

When I first heard the song and saw the video, I was amazed at how it tells the story of both my dear friend Bex and I. The first part of the song is about a woman who loses her baby like I did... all the excitement and plans for a new baby then your world crumbling as the doctor tells you your baby's heart has stopped beating, but "you're young, there'll be others" (I can't tell you how many times people have said that to me, as if one baby could ever replace another). Then the second part of the song is about a young woman placing her baby for adoption like Bex did. The Lord used our precious little ones to bring us together and to bless us in friendship (you can read about our friendship HERE. We both had unplanned pregnancies as young women). As Bex said when I first shared the song with her, it's like it was written for us/our friendship. Listening to it reminds me of precious times we've had together, sharing our hearts and our love for our children.

Anyways, the song is really moving and beautiful. You can watch the music video for it below or by clicking HERE. I have included the lyrics as well as some reflections.

What's Mine is Yours

by Katherine Nelson and Deanna Harper

Counting down days since nine months last summer

From the baby quilts to the sunshine light-switch cover

All the plans she made

Wall-papered dreams she made for him someday

Doctor hardly glanced her way shut off the monitor

As he walked out the door said “You’re young, there’ll be others”

No sirens or loud screams

No rushing or comforting

It was just over

On the longest road toward home

She parked in the church lot and cried

And said

What’s mine is yours

It’s always been

What slips through my hands has your fingerprints on it

I’m letting go

Remembering

Though Heaven’s doors feel shut they’re wide open

What’s mine is yours

Teenage girl clinging to the gates of mercy

Holding the weight of the world and her newborn baby

Trying her best to be brave

Wrapped in hope giving him away to a longing family

When her courage met their eyes she saw

Somehow her baby was born to be in their arms

And cried

(Chorus)

In this life we come and go and say goodbye

But there’s more than we can see with our own eyes

And when my faith’s a thread-bare blanket and I can’t take it anymore

I remember

What’s mine is yours

I’m letting go

Remembering

Though Heaven’s doors feel shut they’re wide open

What’s mine is yours

I pray that I never lose sight of the truth that what's mine is the Lord's. I was never promised I would get to raise Lily. I was never even promised the time I had with her. It says in the Bible that children are a gift from the Lord (Psalm 127:3). Lily was a gift sent from Heaven, a gift with a purpose. A gift I am more thankful for than words could express. The Lord fulfilled the purposes He sent her for then and continues to fulfill the purpose of her life and legacy now. Though she never took a breath in this world, I believe with everything in me that her legacy is alive and will have breath forever. 

"What slips through my hands has your fingerprints on it." The Lord was not surprised by Lily's death. His fingerprints are on her life and her death. His fingerprints are on my life now. 

Even when "Heaven's doors feel shut they're wide open." Even when I feel like I am forgotten in my grief, He is there. "There's more than we can see with our own eyes." God is always working, always moving, even when I can't understand what He's doing or why.

What's mine is Yours... my children, my dreams, my hopes. They are all Yours, my King... through the yearning and the pain. I surrender all to Jesus.

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