What I am thankful for...

A few weeks ago, I found myself at my son’s school participating in a student led conference. I sat in a regular student chair and overlooked his accomplishments. Half way through, he pulled out his journal and started showing off his entries. We turned to a page called “What I am thankful for”. At the very top, he wrote that he was “thankful for NOT being abandoned.”

I reacted with a slight surprise and my son turned the page with a semi-smile. I think he felt uncomfortable. Yesterday, I asked him about his reason why he thinks being abandoned is not a good thing.

He said "just because, and no offence mom, but its not a good thing". He went on to describe someone who is sad and feels unimportant and left out. I suppose that is not a desirable thing to be, feel or aspire to. I suppose I must agree that he should feel thankful for NOT being abandoned.

So, with this new found awareness of my son’s acknowledgement, I found myself pondering what I am thankful for, and I think I can say it would be as much as a “normal” person, but with a different twist.

I am thankful that I am alive and that my biological parents chose to abandon me in a semi-safe place; thankful that I was placed in a good home; thankful for my good health; thankful for my children and their great health; my family (even if they are not my biological, that does not matter); thankful for my great friends; thankful for my success and my strength and courage.

This exercise has reminded me to remember my good fortune. How about you?

Bulgaria's Abandoned Children

I came across a gripping and thorough documentary on a Bulgaria orphanage, that was anchored by Kate Blewett and produced by BBC. If you have an hour and a half, please watch it.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-9176914173325307126



Keep in mind that this isn't limited to Bulgaria, this is a wordly issue.

Handicapped Reunion

I had a very interesting, but traumatic dream last night. I dreamt that I was meeting my biological parents.

Oddly enough, I met my biological father first. I wasn’t too impressed, nor did I show much emotion (even though intellectually I know my life would not be here if it was not for him). I don’t remember much from this part, except he was taller than me, and we hugged. It wasn’t emotional.
Then, a few moments later, a stranger said “its time” and brought me to meet my biological mother.

She was extremely obese, looked rather unhealthy and was in a wheelchair. She had long brown hair, fair skin and I was searching her face for a resemblance, almost confused at her physical state. She was silent and did not say a word. She looked sad and guilty, but did make eye contact. She was accompanied by a few other people who were at her side as we both walked towards each other. I was alone, nervous and scared.

As I walked towards her, I thought “wow, this is it. This saga is finally over. I finally have my answers.” I looked at her and she held out her arms for a hug. I leaned down and hugged her. As I felt our bodies embrace and touch, a burst of tears flooded down my face. My body felt an instant adrenaline rush with acute pain. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I could not stop crying and holding her.

I then woke up.

As I type this the next day, I think to myself, what did this person represent? A wheelchair confined, unhealthy and silent woman? Is that any significance to my stigma that I provide this situation? Is that fair for me to judge her as person who is struggling; unwell; guilt-ridden and confused? It is quite symbolic to paint her helpless, and perhaps that is my way of protecting myself. On a primal level, I want her pining; aching; recognizing and paying for the pain she has caused me…

Hope

(My son just minutes after he was born).

I found myself at the Bowring store on Saturday with my eldest son. We were looking through the Christmas decorations and I found a very interesting decoration. It was a jeweled encrusted word “Hope”.

For those that don’t know, my first name was Bonnie Vanessa Hope. Apparently, the nurses at the hospital gave me this name. The word, or rather name is quite common for abandoned babies. Many orphans are given this last name, and even orphanages are frequently named with this word.

My son looked at me concerned, and he said “oooh, mom, that’s your name right? I mean, your first name right?” I answered quietly “yes.” He then replied, “oh well, we shouldn’t get this since it will make you too sad.” I agree and we moved on.

I went on with my day, but later I thought about this more. Where is the line that we draw on the uncomfortable feelings and embracing this with a positive outlook?

I don’t think there is a clear answer. Every situation is different, timing is different and the point in a person’s life is different. I suppose for me, it is Christmas, which is a stressful time (good stress is still stress), and I’ll admit that I have always felt sadness at this time of year.

Do I need a trigger hanging on my Christmas tree? Do I need this name taunting me as I walk by? No.

Should I embrace this word as something to empower me and remind of what I have today? Well, perhaps that’s a novel idea, but for the season, I will tuck that away and keep my virgin, untainted tree just the way it is.

Traditions are meant to be kept.

This time of year can be particularly overwhelming and challenging for the families. Meltdowns are certain. Hyperactivity can be the norm, or a distant and detached frowning child. Either way, consider evaporating these situations with traditions. The more set traditions you have, the easier your holidays may be.

Here are some simple ideas to consider, and keep in mind that a tradition can only be if your family commits to doing this each and every year. Radlet’s love a controlled, steady and predictable environment. Setting up your child for anything less causes more stress and anxiety than needed.

Having these said traditions will give the child some normalcy to the riot of santa, presents and visitors, and may bring a bonding component to the family.

1. Take a family photo
2. Visit Santa
3. Find an easy cookie recipe and make them together
4. Do a special activity (my family does the Christmas train ride every year)
5. Make a gingerbread house together
6. Decorate the Christmas tree together
7. Have a Christmas party at the house (inviting the child’s friends) to encourage and test your child’s social skills
8. Have one set place for Christmas dinner each and every year (if that is possible)
9. Have a quiet day at home of relaxation on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day
10. If you are religious, choose one set day/time each year to visit the church i.e. Christmas Eve
11. Create a sense of belonging and ownership to the family by taking your child out to choose their gifts for your husband/wife and siblings. This may be a strenuous activity, but again, keep it light and fun and don’t do an 8 hour shopping marathon! Also, try to do the shopping early so your child feels prepared and you forego the crazy crowds at the mall
12. Give your child one special chore to do in relation to Christmas decorating
13. Create or buy an ornament for each year for each child (with the date written on the back)
14. Create a tradition with the parent who is typically not the main caregiver (this is typically dad). This will be paramount for creating a stronger bond
15. Make santa’s snack together and have the child intimately involved in cutting carrots, putting cookies out etc.

The night before Christmas, or before a big family get together, explain exactly what is going to happen at the event. Explain who is going to be there, where you are going and how long you will stay. Keep it positive and bring some quiet activity for the child to do.

Try not to travel at Christmas time. It is already such an overwhelming event, that it may push the limits too far for your child. If you can vacation at another time, you may as well save yourself the possible grief.

Some families choose this time to teach and show respect for their child’s native home. I do applaud this idea, but it has to be done delicately. Watch out for warning signs of your child feeling overwhelmed; overly excited or anxious. Also keep in mind that just because your child may come from China, it is not a reason to serve an Asian meal. Keep it true to your families traditions. You want to honor their background, but not confuse or create additional anxiety.

As an adult “radlet”myself, I absolutely adhere and enjoy my families traditions. We always do the Christmas train, at least a few days before Christmas. On Christmas Eve, we go to breakfast or brunch in suits and dresses at the fanciest restaurant open; we decorate the Christmas tree together (and I re-arrange my children’s ornaments later without them noticing); we buy a gift for a sick child at the children’s hospital and deliver it on Christmas day to remind us to be thankful for our good health. On Christmas Eve my boys get one gift each (a tradition I carry from my childhood), and each year they receive pajamas. On Christmas Day, I go to my parent’s house for a big Christmas dinner. I never travel at Christmas. It is far too special to bail out on family and yes, my strict traditions.

Guilt

I had an interesting call from an adoptive mother of a 3 year old chinese girl yesterday.

First of all, I thank this woman for being so candid and open. I also thank her for her refreshing opening statement.

“I am nervous to speak with you; after all, I view you like my child. I am at the end of my rope and feel guilty for feeling this way. I hope you don’t judge me. I was scared at the notion of speaking to you, but I knew I had to do it. I knew I had to hear you out.”

Wow! What openness and vulnerability. I reacted in shock, but with understanding and thankfulness for her honesty. I have seen the emotions on parent’s faces for years, but had yet to encounter the words. Thank-you.

This honesty is laced with such guilt that I can empathize and in some way feel bad for this mother. This mother feels lost, overwhelmed and confused. She believes that her child rejects her on a minute basis, and no matter what she does or doesn’t do she feels like she is drowning. Of course this incurs a reaction from the mother, and now she lies in her pool of guilt.

It is unfortunate and unnecessary that this mother and the majority of families are repeatedly led down this dark path of international adoption with no flash lights. What I mean to say is that families are set up for overwhelming disappointment, alienation from their immediate family members from lack of support and confusion. Like many parents I speak with, they are just starting to realize what Reactive Attachment Disorder is, and typically this happens years after the adoption in a very frenzied and fed up mind. For me personally, it drives me mad with no avail to hear time and time again that adoption agencies are not educating and preparing the parents properly and accurately.

This mother poked and prauded at my childhood and my thoughts on my abandonment and adoption. She seemed confused as to why I don't speak of my adoptive parents in conjunction with my story. My adoptive parents adopted me - yes. But my adoptive parents did not choose for me in particular to be abandoned. I don't hold them accountable for my pain. I don't expect them to even understand my pain. My story and my pain is just that...mine. I can't expect my parents to heal me, it is not their story to heal. Yes, I am their child, but the line is drawn there. Yes, I am sure my adoptive parents have had many years of feeling accountable for it, but I sure hope they don't anymore. Even if they do, that is ok too. Perhaps this mother feels the need to "heal" her child and thinks since her child is so unhappy it is because of her lack of skills. Hopefully in time she will learn that no matter what she tries, does or says, it will never erase this life lasting imprint.

I told this mother a quote that I told a producer the other day “the problem with adoption to begin with is that adoption is not a natural process. Naturally, human beings should be cared for and live with their biological roots, so it’s no wonder why we can feel so lost.”

And isn’t that it in a nutshell? Yes, adoption is a good thing – and all humans should be loved and have a proper home and upbringing. But to be rejected by the body that made you is a hard feat, let alone being abandoned and institutionalized to boot. It is not a natural, nor a healthy way for any life to begin in this world. And unfortunately for most of these children, it is an imprint that never fades. This needs to be accepted, understood and respected by adoptive parents.

I was quick to try to resolve her guilt by referring her to Nancy Spoolstra of Rad Zebra http://attachment-disorder.adoptionblogs.com/

If only she knew how many other adoptive parents out there feeling the same way and how often adoptive parents are let down, then perhaps the guilt would dissipate, but then perhaps this emotion would be replaced with anger?

Home Sweet Home...

My trip home was fairly uneventful with the exception that I almost missed my flight home. That fleeting thought enabled my sprint full of determination and I managed to check in two minutes before the cut off time.

I knew that my boys were waiting for me, and I could not tolerate knowing that they would be disappointed and then waiting for hours.

When I came through Customs, my boys were waiting and I heard their little voices cheering my name "mom" from the crowd. When our eyes engaged, my heart melted. My boys hugged me with Taylor studying my face. He then said “open your mouth”…which I did. I looked at him confused and then he replied “oh good, you don’t have vampire teeth. You haven’t changed, phew!” I too must confess, that I also stared at them to make sure that they were still the same. And that is exactly what we were both counting on after a week and a half….familiarity!

The more I thought of that, an experience in Romania conjured up my own natural desire of biological familiarity. During my trip with Mr. Ted, he took me through a small town where his family came from. Mr. Ted honestly felt like this experience was common place, and to his surprise I reacted with excitement. Honestly, to drive through family history was very exciting. It is the very thing I have craved my entire life.

I explained to Mr. Ted that my thought (or dream) of a biological background can easily be played in my mind and what a wonderful concept that is. My home is what others had chosen for me and what I adjusted to...and as an opera once said in 1832, it's home, sweet home.

Adoption Life Book

A life book is a great way to teach your child their story and show respect for their past and biological connection. It is a powerful exercise that assists with the bonding and attachment process between you and your child. It truly is such a powerful tool, that I believe all adoptees would want this as a child.

The photos in this entry are of my actual life book. I made that 4 years ago during my search. It was a very powerful project for me to do, but I suppose the underlying tone is that I did this so late in my life, and I did it alone.

A life book is something that you can start the moment you receive information on your child. Every photo, quote or piece of information is golden, and as such you should treat it that way.
I recommend that you start an official book in a scrap book format and take the time to make it colourful and visually appealing to your child. There are websites that give ideas and inspiration…try: http://www.scrapandtell.com/

Michael's Arts and Crafts also does regular in-person scrapbooking workshops.

You should document all major milestones, from your adoption paperwork, photos of significant days including meeting your child for the first time, airplane ride, entering your home for the first time and medical information. Additionally, any paper work relating to your child’s orphanage or foster care experience, or feedback or quotes from the caretakers should be documented. Keep in mind that all minute details such as how many other children were in the orphanage, or address of the foster care home is very important to document. Do not decide for your child on the details that they should know.

In the case that you have very little information relating to your child, then try to be creative and document information on your child’s country of origin or worldly facts that were happening in the time frame your child was born.

Do not trust yourself and think you will remember everything. There is no way during an emotional adoption experience that you will. So, document it clearly and accurately and find an appealing way to make this sacred life book for your child.

Once your child has been in your care for at least a few years, take on a project for your child to make their own. Photocopy the originals, facts and quotes and help your child create a life book that your child will solely possess. The importance of photocopies can not be stressed enough as your child may have moments in their life where anger can be so prominent that they will endeavor to destroy or subconsciously hide this book.

I also recommend a back up file with photocopies in case this may go missing. If you have the option of a safety deposit box, or out of home storage – you should also consider putting photocopies there. Keep in mind that there is little forgiveness from the adoptee in the case anything may go missing.

For more information, try these links:
http://www.lifebooksource.com/
http://www.adoptionlifebooks.com/
http://www.thedreamkidz.com/

Seventh Day

The seventh day at House of Angels was particularly interesting and initially brought a different and surprising reaction to my presence.
My morning began as I entered the play room. It was quite somber, and brought a very different reaction.

I walked in and the children were colouring or sitting on the couches watching television. There was no grand reception of hello’s, yells and rambunctious moods. Instead, one the boys (who I sense to be a leader of the group) addressed me with “Leaving today?” and modeled his body like an airplane to describe my immanent departure. His body language was aloof and cool.

I replied “Yes, but later today”, and he reacted with a blank facial expression and simply walked away. It was quite the reaction to experience, but I understood immediately why they were reacting in such a fashion. So, I sucked it up and surveyed the room. A little boy was colouring in the middle of the room, so I gently sat beside him and we smiled at each other. In a few minutes, another little boy came to join, then a few girls, and another boy.

Soon after, I started receiving “love” notes from the girls and thank-you cards from the children and staff. A few other children also drew me pictures.

Not long after I found myself in the typical swarming of children melting into my legs and arms. They became very rambunctious and forgot that I was leaving. I whipped out my camera and not before long, it was complete chaos! The children were tumbling, flipping and yelling “Jana! Jana!” I tried taking as many photos as I could, but I realized I couldn’t keep up with their standards of attention and clicking capabilities.

A few hours passed and it was time for me to go. The head caretaker Vicky rounded up the children and they all hugged and kissed me. It was a very quiet goodbye, with plenty of hugs and kisses and little words.

Fifth Day

The fifth day at HOA was a regular day. I played and did English/Romanian lessons over a colouring book with the children and drew more portraits.

The girls have been very sweet and loving. They are always holding my hand, hugging me and attaching to my waist. Speaking of that, they have asked me on several occasions why I am so skinny and pinched my tummy. They said why no “fat?” and they spread their arms large. Ofcourse I didn’t translate my answer well, as they simply were left with confused faces and stares. And again, my blue eyes were the topic again. One little girl came up to me and touched my eye…she honestly believed that they were fake.

Many of the children simply sat by me, with their legs melted to mine and would simply colour or do whatever I was doing. It was very sweet to see their desire to be involved with some strange lady that acted like Santa Claus and hangs out with them all day. I can easily understand the present infatuation; however I must say that I was quite surprised by their ease of attachment.

The caretakers of the children at HOA are all quite lovely and always smiling (or chain smoking outside). One caretaker in particular Miss Vicky was quite lovely and spoke quite a bit of English. She is often seen hugging the children; drawing art or putting out a fight between the children. She also pointed out a child and told me that he was born by a mother, aged 27 and the father was 80! Wow! That is a huge age gap!

Later that day, Mr. Ted and I went for an excursion to see the major cities of Romania. We traveled north through the Carpathian Mountains and Transylvania (Central Romania) to Brasov; Sighisoara; Sibiu, Bran and Sinaia. Mr. Ted and I drove through the mountains singing to James Blunt, Maroon 5, Gorillaz, Family Kelly and Nickelback. The interesting experience of poorly sung notes and dreamy lyrics was as unique as the areas surrounding us. For miles we would drive through a beautiful lush landscape of red, yellow and orange trees on gorgeous rolling hills to suddenly fall into a remote village. Older woman and men lined the streets with their cows (and yes, I perceived them to be walking their cows since they had them leashed with a rope), although Mr. Ted laughed and thought otherwise. Most of these villages were full of small homes in disrepair all hanging on a common thread of poverty.

To learn more about Romania's child welfare and government crisis, click: http://danielaministry.org/why_romania.htm#background

Fourth Day

The fourth day at HOA brought a different, but similar setting. The day started with overlooking a physical therapy session with a six year old boy and his mother. The nurse did a physical massage and then some therapy for his muscles (or for other reasons) but again with the language barrier, all I can do is report these simple facts.
After this session, I went back the children and played with them. They were very eager for me to do more portraits, and they lined up to be official on who will be next and so forth. The girls still wanted wedding dresses and the boys wanted to be drawn "as is".

After drawing (and now my arm being quite sore as I was racing to do a portrait under 5 minutes each), I pulled out my camera and the children reacted wildly. They started flipping, jumping and doing faces and posing. There was a loud uproar of "Jana! Jana!" They wanted me to take a photo every second, and ofcourse that just can't happen. The children smiled and put their style of conflict resolution aside for this happy moment to be captured. A few older boys got so excited that they sqeezed my arm quite hard (yes, it hurt!). I reacted immediately so they knew that they shouldn't have done that. They stopped and backed off. Their excitement mounted and before long they wanted to take photos and tried grabbing the camera. Ofcourse, I let them know that they can not operate the camera, and then they accepted it. I don't think they understood, but nonetheless, we carried on just fine.

After the photo frenzy, the children and I sat down for some quiet colouring. One small boy threw a balloon at my face, and was repremanded by the HOA staff for that. However, a few minutes later he came back to test my patience (or to see where I stood), and I invited back to colour. He smiled and sat immediately right beside my leg and did not leave until it was lunch.
These children truly are very sweet, and they honestly want to be loved (what child or adult does not want love?) However I do see trauma and some very primal emotions written on their faces. It is sad to see them engage in such a negative conflict resolution style, but as I have reported before, I believe they don't know any better AND that they are doing this for survival. The girls and younger boys have been especially loving and sweet to me. Always holding my hand, hugging my waist and making eye contact. I just wish I could stay longer...

Third Day

The third day at HOA has been quite interesting and very much up my alley.

The day started with Ted (staff worker) and his mother over a cup of coffee. Mr. Ted corrected me on my previous post of my comment on a car, and told me (as my Romanian Automobile Advisor) that the Logan car is an "ok" car. I won't say anymore details, as it even confused me! (And I am sure I would get it wrong again).

Speaking of Romanian cars, Mr. Ted taught me how to do the shifting on a standard car last night. Yes, to some it sounds trivial, but on a rural road, and not knowing exactly what to do, it was quite the achievement and very exciting!

Anyways, going back to the children, my third day has been particularly up my alley, as I am drawing portraits of the children. It started with a young girl by the name of Georgina asking me to draw a picture. So, I drew her face and the children came running asking that I also draw them. So, as I drew on the carpet with a brown pencil crayon, the children toppled on my legs and feet anxiously awaiting for their turn. It actually started to hurt me, so I asked the children to back up.

The girls were very keen to see themselves in a princess outfit or a wedding dress. They hummed the wedding march for me to understand their request. The boys wanted to look exactly the same as they were looking and wearing today.

Now, isn't that funny how universal we are? The girls want a beautiful fantasy and the boys accept themselves as they are. In fact, exactly as they are, down to the very last detail. :)

Second Day

The second day at HOA brought a much different attitude and comfortableness out from the children. I suppose the gift giving had worn off and they were (most presumably) acting like they normally would. As you know from all children, there is always a honeymoon phase, and I think it may have already rubbed off.

The day started with playing with the children and doing a puzzle in a team environment. There must have been 6 other children ranging from 7 to 12 around a big red table with me. Of course I had the occasional child land on my lap and hug me, but primarily it was just this group. The first thing I noticed was their style of conflict resolution. Or rather, their lack of proper skills, by North American standards. A child would take a puzzle piece that another child wanted and the first primal emotion (anger) was dislayed instantly with a hit, or a threat of hit (with hand raising and a dirty look). Hostile language was also used, and of course the other child would react back and defent themself. Ofcourse I tried to curb this behaviour, but it was obvious they didn't want to listen. Nonetheless, I kept trying to tell the children no. This was very trying for my patience, but I realized in an instant what needed to be done. There was this one girl that seemed to be getting picked on the most, or perhaps she was promoting this attention (I am not sure due to the language barrier), so I opened my lap and tapped my thigh, and in an instant she was sitting on me. Then, I was softly speaking to her and took my arms and hugged her. She understood this as a loving gesture, but I was restraining her from the violent behaviour. Within two minutes, she was calm and it completely deflated the conflict.

Soon after the puzzling, we continued to play and I drew butterflies with the younger girls. In the background, all I could hear was "Jana! Jana!" There was never a dull moment when I wasn't wanted for attention. At times it was difficult to play without interuption, since they all wanted me to be in 10 spots at once. Later, the older boys and I watched tv, and wow, some pretty interesting Romanian advertising crossed our eyes and created quite a funny uproar from the boys and myself. A few minutes passed and the boys were asking me to speak in English. They are very eager to learn English, and so, I recited the words on the tv, and then a song came on by Akon called "Nobody wants to see us together..." In an instant, the language barrier was conquered as they knew all the words to the song. We all sang in a circle together as they intently looked at my lips and carefully studied my pronounciation.

Soon after this, we had lunch - it was a three course meal; a healthy soup; meat with rice and peas and dessert. These children are very well looked after. Once the meal was done, the children went to the study room and did their homework. Of course, I couldn't very well do much on this aspect, but I grabbed a globe and a geography book and went back and forth with some girls. They too are eager to teach Romanian, and when I told a girl she was a teacher, she smiled so big and blushed. It was very cute.

Once the studies were done, we played inside and then outside. We engaged in a lengthy soccer game, and the older boys ran circles around me. They are very skilled at soccer, or should I say football?! Again, the lack of proper conflict resolution came up, with at least a few rounds of punching, kicking and poor language towards each other. It is sad for me to see, but I do instincly see the survival mechanism and level of hierarchy they are scrambling for.

Introduction - Part 2

Continuing from my day yesterday, I must say and reiterate what an amazing experience it was to gift those gifts. Thank-you so much to everyone who made this possible. A little bit really went a long way. The big hits were the soccer balls, the barbie, art supplies and the nice clothing.
Soon after the gift giving, we all went outside and played soccer. The kids literally dripped off of me, always holding, hugging and calling my name. They did anything to impress, from standing on their hands; crossing their eyes and doing flips. It was quite cute and impressive. The children are also eager to learn more English and asked me to read words on packaging etc. They were also eager to teach me Romanian, which I soaked in.

They also encountered two fascinations; my blue eyes and ripped knee jeans. They were staring at my eyes and asking if they were real. They were gasping and laughing when I said no. Then, was the ongoing saga of the ripped jeans, and let me tell you - it sure made each one quite curious. I told the kids that in Canada, they are "cool", and they looked at me like I was crazy. Before I knew it, their hands were going inside the holes and this continued all afternoon. Even the staff said to me "freezie?"

Later in the day, I went out for dinner with a staff worker named Ted. He is a nice, young, professional man that helps House of Angels and has been quite the tour guide and translator. Thank-you Ted! We went out to the town for dinner and I enjoyed a very delicious pizza. I also saw a very interesting manequin in the window that was mooning the pedestrians with no panties. Perhaps it is inappropriate to mention it, but alas, it made me laugh so hard it hurt!

For those that have not had the priviledge of visiting Romania, it truly is quite a sight to see. The area that I am in is the country, and compared to Canada, certain areas are quite rural. Romania came out of the communist republic only 16 years ago and just joined the European Union on January 1, 2007. So, I think it is accurate to say that they are just on their way to developing a very amazing economic country!

The areas that I have seen in the country so far, have consisted of flat plains with horse and wagon, with older woman loitering the streets with a stick cane. Speed limits are not apparent on the highways, and it seems like only the best survive. Semi trucks pass other semi trucks, its quite hilarious! The roads in certain areas are quite poor too. Looks like they specialize in patching up previously patched up jobs. Apparently, the logan car is not a desired car! And, if you are driving an older car, or rather a complete "beater", the cops pull you over and interview you!

For some jokes or general info on Romania, check out this link! It is quite funny! And yes, most of it seems true!

http://uncyclopedia.org/wiki/What_I_Didn't_Know_about_Romania

P.S. I hope to post photos of the kids within the next day. My laptop does not have the proper converter, and so I have been using the HOA's office computer.

Introduction Day - Part 1

Today was a very exciting day at the House of Angels, and for myself of course.

The day started with presents, and it was quite the orchestration. Apparently the two soccer balls that were gifted were such a hot item that they could not be gifted to an individual child. That was no problem at all, so I scrambled and divided up some of the gifts to create two extra gifts.

When I gave the gifts, the children were naturally awkward, but once they left the room and realized what they received, they were so happy. Really, I don't think I could put their reaction into words.

I entered the main play room, and introduced myself to the children. As soon as I did this, all I could hear chanted was "Jana! Jana!" It was very sweet, but a little overwhelming at first. Within a few seconds, I was so joyful to be with these children that it didn't seem to matter. I literally had the children hanging off my arms, hugging me and surrounding me. To the left, right, front and back.

I have much more to say, but honestly had 3 hours of sleep last night (street dogs barking and fighting kept me up) and it is 11pm Romania time and crashing...will report back tomorrow.

Arrived

I arrived in Romania today and what a whirlwind it has been! The administrator; George picked me up from the very small airport and we drove 90 minutes through the dark streets to House of Angels. He drove a very small and old car that literally vibrated and the wind whistled through the windows. There is also a very cold, rainy and windy storm happening right now too.
As we drove through the vast areas, street dogs roamed and the odd person would be riding their bike or walking on the side of the road. It is much different than home, and to be blunt, it is quite rural in comparison.

90 minutes later, we pulled up to a grand fence and entered through with the assistance of the guard. George showed me around the facility, and I am the only one staying here right now. It is the facility for the children's meals, education, physical therapy and medical needs.
The wind is blowing and it is still quite cold, so it is a little hard to sleep right now, and I probably should, it is 1 am Romania time.

I will be meeting the children, the staff and posting photos tomorrow...stay tuned!

Almost there...

Today I had a very relaxing day in London. To be honest, most of it was spent in a bus with other folks, but the places we explored were absolutely amazing! It was a 13 hour day in the country and took me to Stonehenge, the Cotswolds; Roman Baths; City of Bath; William Shakespears birthplace and Stratford.

I must tell you much how I needed this day (and also wanted a day to breath and simply enjoy life) and not work! I am now on their clock, although Romania is 2 more hours ahead.

Tomorrow morning I am off to Romania, where I will be picked up by a lady named Simona from the facility. I am flying on Wizz Air into Bucharest and then will be driven approximately 50 km. My very large suitcase is packed with the gifts and I am ready! I have been practicing and reviewing my Romanian tonight and going through my checklist. I am quite eager to get there and start this experience, but I have had bouts of emotions…excited, anxious and now feeling nervous.

What do I have to be nervous about? I am not sure, but I suppose that is just the problem. The unknown and something this large that is out of my control is not a good thing for my mind. It is something us “radlets” struggle with on a constant basis. Yes, the lovely C word: Control.

However, I tell myself it will be fine, it is always fine. What doesn’t kill you - will make you stronger. My day of distraction was quite good for me, and now I am sitting in my hotel room and thinking. I must shut off my brain and go to sleep now.

I will be back tomorrow night! Wish me luck!

Thank-you!

The Romania Mission has been an absolute success, thanks to the kind hearts of my friends, family, business associates and general public.

Last night at around midnight, I found myself wrapping, allocating and organizing the gifts for the children. It was a surreal experience to see this all come together and realize and value how much it took for everyone to share, care and contribute.

On top of the gifts, was the task of raising funds, and again it was a success.

I am now starting to realize how close this mission is, and that I will be there before I know it. It feels surreal to plan and work hard on something like this for months and now, with two days to go, I am ready, planned, focused and proud.

I remind you all that I will be blogging and posting photos while I am there, so please stay tuned!

Thanks again to everyone for your support!

We have made a huge difference together!

Fantasizing! I get so emotional baby!

As a young child, around the age of 9, I was absolutely enamored with the pop singer Whitney Houston. I would listen to her tape at every moment; sing along with all the words memorized perfectly and would lay in bed at night with a fabulously fantasized dream.

I dreamt and fantasized that Whitney Houston was my biological mother, and she would come and “rescue” me.

When I day dreamed about her, I would feel happy; elated and proud. My biological mother is a super star and she wanted me back! (Side note: I am quite pale and Whitney is an Afro-American, but to a child’s mind, a fantasy is far from intellectual).

When I was 10 years old, my father took me to her concert. I actually dreamed the night before that Whitney would call my name and ask to reunite on stage, and my life would begin with her. Then, at the concert, I waited and listened. No name, no mention, no fantasy reunion. It was one of my first let downs. I returned home with a large poster of this beautiful diva, and layed in bed and cried. My parents never knew of this fantasy…I suppose I felt awkward to tell them I wanted someone else to be my parent. I was also afraid of their reaction to even let on a little bit.
It is very common for adopted children to fantasize about their biological parents. In the instances of abandonment I believe it can make the fantasy far easier to achieve.

According to psychiatrist Dr. Barbara Stilwell, "Many children have fantasies that they have another set of parents somewhere who are superhuman beings . . . These fantasies arise when a child becomes angry at his parents. They dissipate when a child learns that he can love and hate the same person."

I would like to challenge this theory in the instance of abandonment. Since there is so much mystery, trauma and susceptibility to reactive attachment disorder, I would like to believe that this will happen no matter how the child feels towards the adoptive parent.

However, based on the child’s story and the child’s personal beliefs, the child may not dream of the adoptive parent as such a glossy individual. If the adopted child doesn't fantasize that they are handsome and wealthy, the opposite may be played. The child may think of the darker side of life. The child may think that their biological parents could have been a sex worker, a drug addict or an overall “bad” person. That is particularly dangerous, but I believe that the adoptive parents influence and positive remarks can kill these ideas, if it is started early enough in the child's life.

If the child does not fully fantasize and label the biological parent, the child will (at certain points in their life) think of whom their biological parents may be and conjure up some ideas. These ideas may not be shared with you, so don't be offended. Its like a deck of cards that are held too close to share.

And for the record, I am still waiting for Ms. Houston to return to Vancouver for another concert and yes, I’ll pay through the nose to be in front row, but without the tears.

My 30th Birthday

So, today is the day I think I was born. Tonight actually is probably the best guess – based on my newspaper articles. I think I was abandoned early in the morning on the 14th and believed to be a few hours old.

My children gave me presents and a cake. It was very sweet to see them care, but truth be told, I don’t want to “celebrate”. I obviously have the sense to understand why they want to celebrate my birthday, and I appreciate that they made such an effort. I receive it with smiles and hugs, but deep down I am in pain and not connected.
I don’t feel happy, and I am unsure if it’s even my birth date to begin with. So…I pretend and go with my day in my numb and withdrawn body.

I went shopping, surfed the net and played with my boys to pass the time and distract myself from reality. I haven’t cried yet, but I suppose the day is not over.

The day will fade and I will get happier with the days to come, but for today, I’m in the dark zone.

Your child's story - how to...

Many adoptive parents struggle and fear the day when they sit down with their child and tell them the truth of their story. Although this seems like a big mountain to climb, consider this as something that doesn’t and shouldn’t happen on one big momentous day.

Choosing to open up with your child is something that must be fostered from an early age. Talking about the story should happen early and often. However, many ask me, how do I do this?

This process starts the moment you take your child home. Keep in mind that this is a new relationship for the both of you. It will take time for your child to trust and accept you as their permanent caregiver. However, you can still incorporate their story into little things in your day. The sooner you open up the truth, the better for the both of you and your family. Talk about the airplane in the sky and how your child rode that home. Talk about certain foods that come from the child’s country of origin.
Rehearse a formal story with your spouse or another significant family member. If you can’t (or if it feels too odd), rehearse in front of the mirror. Look at your body language. Hear your tone. Analyze the words you choose. Think love; comfort; ease of flow of language. Then think smiles; hugs; love with gentle touching and eye contact.

Think of your child’s ethnic and cultural background (if you know), and biological history that remains uniquely their own. What makes your child so special and unique? Tell your child in their story.

A good way to introduce the story is to tell the story in a fairy tale way. i.e. Once upon a time, there was this mommy and daddy (Richard and Lisa) and they wanted to have a wonderful son/daughter like you…(etc., etc.,) Keep the facts clear, true and factual. Ensure the story is consistent with your spouse and/or other key family members. These details should never change over the course of their life. Not only will this capture your child’s attention and imagination, but it will prompt questions. Be prepared for questions. Again, rehearse if necessary. The most common questions will be; “Why was I left?” “Do you know who my mommy is?” “Does my mommy love me?” Although this may crush your heart to hear these questions, keep in mind that this is normal. This is your child’s reality and any question they may have is valid and should not be discounted.

No matter what the questions are, stay positive and keep it age appropriate. In time, this story will become ordinary and/or boring to the child, and that is good. The more commonplace the story is, the easier it is for the child to move on and enjoy their childhood.

As time goes by, your child’s maturity and appetite for the story will change and will need to evolve. The “Once Upon a Time” story will need to be shelved and revamped into a matter of fact sequence of events. With different ages, comes different and more sophisticated questions. Be prepared and stay positive! And remember, at no age whatsoever does your child need to hear gory details that they were “left for dead”. Honesty is key, but damaging details need to be carefully weighed.

Your child may look to you for answers and will naturally expect you to have them. However, some of these questions can never be answered. Be realistic, honest and down to earth. If you don’t know, then let your child down gently and tell them that fact. They will respect your honesty and will feel your respect for their story. When it comes to the child’s story and their reaction and feelings, do not pretend you know it all. Do not give the child the false expectation that you have the answers. Your child will figure this out in time and this “knowing attitude” will easily alienate your relationship.

Also keep in mind that when you speak of the child’s story, you are bringing up the trauma. This is healing and healthy to do so, but depending on certain times in your child’s life – this can also be a silent blow to the confidence and can make your child feel uncertain. To combat these feelings, reaffirm your love to the child and their special role in your heart and family. Remind the child each time why they are so unique, smart, kind etc. Your child will eat it up and may feel better because of it!

It's not easy to walk the fine line between bringing it up too often or not often enough, between asking too many or too few questions about the child's feelings. However, your child does need to know that it’s ok to talk about it, so be sure to literally remind them of this fact. Take cues from your child and consider why abandoned children don’t communicate to their parents:

1. The child wants to avoid the pain and pretend it didn’t happen to them. They want to feel “normal like everyone else”
2. They sense and/or feel it's uncomfortable
3. They don’t feel a connection with the parent
4. They hear negative words and/or tones in the story
5. Parents try to direct and own the story
6. There is a negative reaction to bringing it up
7. Parents don't communicate, so the child follows
8. Overkill - parents talk about it all the time
9. Parents are negative towards the biological parents

My Trigger...

Ok, call me crazy, but a jug of milk triggered me this morning.
As I was getting milk for my son’s cereal this morning, I see this bright red expiry date flashing before my eyes: OCT 13
October 13th is my birthday, or as far as we all know. I don't celebrate my birthday as in having a party, or having ample people acknowledging my day, but I do have a little something at home with my children.

They want to celebrate my life, and on an intellectual level, I should want the same thing. In some way, I want to want it, but I just can't get over the trauma of that one specific day.

However, on a primal level, I don't want to celebrate and don’t see this day as a celebration. I see this day as a negative thing. I see this day as a parting of my biological connection. It is an anniversary of sorts, like a death. This day typically feels heavy, sad and leaves me withdrawn and speechless. I have many people around me who see it differently, and of course they would. I expect them to – they luckily have never walked in these shoes.

However, my birthday is a trigger – in fact the days leading up to this “anniversary” is a trigger too. How can I get over this? Or perhaps this is something I may never resolve. Perhaps that I need to resolve that I will never resolve it.

Most people associate closure to the remedy, and well, I am unsure of that. Even if I had closure, it would still be a painful day – a reminder that my biological’s left me. I suppose I will never fully get over that, but I have accepted and acknowledged it – and that is half the battle. Just have to make sure I don’t spill my milk this 13th!

Time will tell...

The fit of adoption has been talked about since the beginning of adoption. Most people struggling in their own adoption may not even recognize, or rather want to fathom the idea of disruption. Many parents claim their child as their own, through thick and thin. Others reach such a breaking point, either due to their lack of knowledge, or lack of fit. Many professionals also preach nurture vs. nature, but it is obvious that it is not that scientific. Sometimes, as raw as this may sound, it is luck of the draw.

However, the reality is, is when a parent or couple starts to use the word disruption, then it typically takes no time at all to go through with the steps.

I had a very trying and emotional conversation with a lovely lady this morning regarding her adoption. From day one she has struggled (again, she notes she made many errors for the ease of her child's attachment and has many regrets), but nonetheless, stands here today with no hope and then she used the word "disruption".

Could it be that she is completely "done" and wants to place her child in a more "suitable" home? Or will this settle down and time will tell all? Perhaps more time will do more damage, and alas, that is the tricky part with the fit of adoption and disruption. It is a delicate balance with no infinite answer.

Like most families in international adoption, this woman suffers alone and feels stuck in her own world. She can't tell her family of her struggles. They don't understand attachment and believe that this child should be perfectly behaved because she lives in a nice home and has love. It is not that easy. Love does not fix this, nor does a nice home. Her family believes that her child should be happy, and should be a perfect child. The child has love and a nice home. The child has not acted perfect (what child does?), and so she feels shameful and like a failure.

No matter what she will decide upon, it will not be easy. The child stays, the parents change, learn and give more and perhaps nothing will change. The child will suffer. The child goes to another home, the child will suffer regardless of the fit.

For as long as adoption exists, disruption will always happen. It is a sad, but necessary reality.

To believe or not to believe - that is my dilemna!

Photo credit: "The Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus" - Paul Rubens, 1681

Yesterday afternoon I found myself sitting in a beautiful home in West Vancouver, overlooking the harbour and waiting for my blueprint to be read through my spirit guide with the aid of a lovely woman who apparently has the unique ability to see, hear and feel spirits. I was anxious to see this process through, but also taking this experience as a novelty I was relaxed and open to anything this woman might say.
Or so I thought.

(Coles Notes version: Spirit medium and psychic artist as well as spiritual counsellor with the unique ability to see into people and read their blueprint or life-path. By simply tuning in to your energy she can tell you some of what has happened, is happening, and may happen on your path).

Sounds interesting, right? At 3:05pm I waited for my life blueprint to unfold through her eyes with the aid of my spirit guide. I didn’t know what to expect. She closed her eyes and moves like she is trying to see or find something.

“Genealogy!” She says, over and over. “Does this mean something to you?”

The conversation turned quickly to my blueprint. Apparently, I have great gaps in my print. Large grey gaps to be exact.

She goes on to tell me that she can’t find my connection. She can’t find my parents. She tells me my blueprint is mysterious. So, of course I tell her that I was abandoned shortly after my birth. She gets excited and starts talking more with the spirit world. She then told me some “facts”.

- My biological mother’s family comes from Nova Scotia.
- Her family moved to Ontario.
- Her family life was abusive and she ran away at 15.
- She came out west and got involved with the wrong people.
- At the age of 15, she was violently raped and conceived me.

She goes on to tell me that my biological mother did not know what to do, so abandoning me was the best thing to do. She tells me that she is dead and is in the spirit world. She has dirty blonde hair.

Ok, let’s back up. Hearing that you are conceived by a violent rape is not an easy thing to hear, whether it is true or not. With that said, I don’t whole heartedly believe it is true; however it sure has made my wheels churn in my head. What “if” it was true?

As morbid as this may seem, I have toiled with this idea before. I call this a process of accepting my twenty truths. Perhaps I will never know what the real truth is, but like I have said, this possibility has crossed my mind several times. Since my story is so mysterious, and I have accepted that I may never know my truths. I have gone on to explore the possibilities – I have felt the need to accept and acknowledge any of these truths as a possible truth. I suppose it is my way of exploring, or seeking self-preservation for when or “if” I ever find out the actual truth.

I think that most can easily point fingers to the obvious sensationalism and shock factor and dismiss this as airy fairy. I too am in that group.

Either way, having someone tell you that you are in fact a product of a violent rape is a very hard and hurtful experience. Essentially, she told me that my being was based on something violent; barbaric and un-natural. It is very confusing, damaging and toxic to hear of.
Last night I went to bed, tossed and turned and told myself to forget about this news for just that moment. Go to sleep, get some rest.

I woke up this morning and told myself; I need to decide what to believe.