Adoption

A friend asked me recently why I haven’t blogged a lot about the center – Parmasters Kitchener-Waterloo – lately. The answer is fairly straightforward. I simply can’t. The things we’re working on right now, the current day-to-day tasks, are simply not for public consumption.

From the very beginnings of this blog I’ve strived to very open and forthright. But there will be times, and this is just such a time, when I must be a little quiet about the daily activities within our business.

I look forward to a time, soon, when I’ll be able to blog more freely about the daily triumphs and opportunities.

I spoke to my parents this evening. They live approximately 200 kms away, so there are more phone calls than face to face visits. And Sunday evenings seems to be their preferred time for a chat.

They told me that one of my distant cousins had passed away. At one point, last spring, she thought she had Celiac Disease. My eldest thrives with Celiac Disease, so she called me to ask a few questions. I hadn’t spoken to her much and did my best to help. She didn’t have Celiac.

The funeral is Tuesday, with visitation on Monday afternoon and evening.

The call, as well as other recent conversations, lead me to think about family. I entered the Southern family via an adoption. My parents adopted me when I was an infant.

There are times when my connection to the Southern family seems tenuous. You see, we’re not a close family by any stretch of the imagination. For the most part each set of siblings and parents seem to get along. But when the family stretches out to cousins, there seem to be little fiefdoms, age-old quarrels and misunderstandings.

My parents do their best to stay in touch with most of their cousins, and thus I get updates and, to some extent, stay in touch with many of my cousins also. But what happens when my parents move on from this life? My connection is via them.

I wonder if, when my parents have moved on, I will feel somewhat family-less. And I wonder what that might feel like.

It seems to me, for parents of sons and daughters who’ve been adopted, and I chose those words very carefully, it seems to me that it’s vitally important that those parents ensure that their sons and daughters build strong relationships with their extended family, with their cousins and aunts and uncles. Those sons and daughters will benefit from those relationships when their parents leave this life.

As for choosing those words carefully, as a son that was adopted, I firmly believe that terms like “adoptive parent” and “adopted children” are both inaccurate and hurtful. Adoption is an act, not a label and certainly not an adjective. Parents that adopt are not “adoptive parents.” They’re parents. Sons and daughters that have entered a family via an adoption are not “adopted sons” or “adopted daughters.” They’re sons and they’re daughters. Every child should know the comfort and security of having a “mom,” not an “adoptive mom,” and a “dad,” not an “adoptive dad.”

Somewhere out there, for each child that has experienced and adoption, there may be a “birth mom” and a “birth dad.” That’s fine. But with the child on a daily basis, doing all of the mom things and all of the dad things, is simply a “mom” and a “dad.” It must be that simple.