Guatemala Gift: Part Two

Tags

adoption, child adoptee, family, Gay dads, Guatemala, international adoption, successful adoption, transracial adoption, two dads

CHAPTER TWO-by Kim Straus

Jose steps into his new life

Remember my saying that we as older soon-to-be dads were not prepared to take on the special needs of a special needs child?  And don’t get me wrong, I’m in awe of those parents who do and I’ve met adoptive parents who have raised multiple special needs children.  Well, we quickly learned of José’s special need.

José arrived in New Mexico sound asleep in his umbrella stroller.  He and Jack were met at the airport by me, Jack’s Albuquerque cousins, and our good friend and my boss, who would later become José’s godmother.  One of the reasons we felt so confident in becoming parents was the support network we had in Santa Fe.  As we went through the adoption process we met other adoption families, including several gay dads, with whom we formed a small support group.  We felt Santa Fe would be a great place to be gay parents and had read a statistic that Santa Fe had the second largest per capita number of lesbian and gay parents in the nation after San Francisco.

Not only did we get support from other gay dads and lesbian moms but also many straight friends, including a number of close women friends.  One of Jack’s former colleagues from his time teaching at Zuni Pueblo lived with us for a year before she bought a home down the street.  We still belong to an adoption group that consists of straight and gay families – and several Guatemalan children.

One recommendation we received from parents who had adopted internationally was of a pediatrician in town who understood health issues that might arise in these children.

We took José to see her a few days after his arrival for a good check-up which proved extremely, I mean extremely, fortunate.  She ordered a blood test and when she received the results, called us immediately.

José had hypothyroidism.  Basically, José’s thyroid wasn’t working at all.  This explained his small size and lack at seven months of some basic early motor skills. It may also explain why our adoption process went so quickly.  We speculate that the doctor seeing José for his check-ups in Guatemala either knew or suspected something like the hypothyroid condition and urged the process move quickly.

All babies born in this country get checked for this and perhaps those up for adoption in Guatemala do, too, but the diagnosis isn’t revealed for fear it would jeopardize the adoption. Most adopting parents want a perfect baby unless they specifically request a special needs child.

Our doctor said run, don’t walk to the pharmacy for medication which José takes daily and will probably for the rest of his life.  Our wonderful pediatrician also connected us with an amazing pediatric endocrinologist in Albuquerque; we all love our visits with her.  José’s development is on the normal scale although as a Guatemalan Mayan, he will never likely be very tall.

I won’t deny that becoming a parent later in life is a real challenge.  You get set in your ways, used to your routines, thinking about a future that never before included diapers, play dates, baseball practice, science fair projects, and PTA.  I admit that tucked way back in my brain was a bit of resentment about such drastic change in lifestyle.  But all this was greatly overshadowed by the joys that happened every day, some of these I think of as miraculous and magical.  When José would fall asleep in my arms as a baby, reading bedtime stories and singing songs, and, yes, going to baseball games.

José attended a pre-school in our neighborhood and every morning I would pull him to school in a wooden wagon made in the Wisconsin town where my mother, who turned 100 last year, was born.  The miracles and joys still happen and I am still amazed at being a parent.

José is thriving, as best we can tell, and so are we.  We are having unimagined

Jose says “Two Dads are better than one!”

adventures.  Last year we took José to Disneyland and I did something I swore I’d never to do again  — went on not one but several rollercoaster rides. What we won’t do for our kids!

One last adoption story for now, at least:  When we were going through the process, one of the forms for Guatemala Jack had to submit and get certified by the New Mexico Secretary of State was a doctor’s statement that he was “in good health and showed no signs of homosexuality.” 

Jack’s own doctor requested that he not have to do it, so I asked my doctor if he would sign the statement, to which he agreed.  My doctor was not only a hero in the gay community for his early treatment of people with HIV/AIDS but was soon to retire.  He was not worried about any ramifications.  Besides, the statement read, “shows no signs” and since Jack was not his patient, my doctor could truthfully say after an examination that Jack was in good health and ‘showed no signs.’  As Jack sat in the waiting room for the appointment, he casually picked up People magazine. Then he realized that might be a sign, and quickly picked up Sports Illustrated.

Warmest hugs to all you adoptive and adopting parents from two very lucky dads.

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Message from a Birth Mom

Tags

adoptee, Attitude adjustment, birthmother, child adoptee, daughter, empower, Gratitude, healing, reunion, Searching

Editor’s Note: Mother’s Day has special meeting for Pat Goehe, who—after decades of waiting and wondering—finally met the daughter she’d never seen. The reunion was wonderfully rewarding, and it has greatly enriched her life. For anyone who is hesitant to seek a lost daughter or son, she recommends moving forward.

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As I started to write this piece I’m reminded of a Christmas song that begins something like “So this is Christmas and what have you done?”   That’s probably a bad version, but it is what sticks in my head.  Only now I want to say, “So this Mother’s Day,  and what have you done?”
Without question for a birth mother and the child she chose to give away, Mother’s Day is a troubling time for both.  Recently a former student of mine put on her Facebook Page, “Mother’s Day and where is mine………..”

There are times in our lives when we must consider whether to jump into the void or not.  Deciding to search for a child is just that,  a void.  There is no guarantee that the outcome will be positive or even productive.  But is it worth the jump?  Certainly one can go through life never searching, but it is Mother’s Day that tugs at our hearts.  Where is he/she?  Does she wonder about me?  Is he angry that I did the unforgivable and gave him away?  Would knowing the “why” help?  Does she look like me?  Could we be passing each other daily and not even know it?

Some of you probably have read my story of reunion.  Was it worth it?  Oh yes!  Would I do it again?  Without question.  I must confess that over the yeas if I don’t hear from her for a period of time, the voice inside of me says, “Well Pat, why should she stay in touch…you gave her away!”  But then she call or emails.  Recently I’ve learned to remind myself that those who I did raise often are lax about staying in touch as well.  Children get busy with their own lives.

Should you search for your child?  I can’t answer that for you.  Some may not want you to find them.  Some may want to take advantage of you.  You may want to take advantage of them.  So many possibilities but always a question mark.  The “abandonment issue” remains a constant problem for both mother and child and never so much as when Mother’s Day arrives each year.   As you think of all the possible outcomes along with the tremendous emotional turmoil involved, I would ask you to also think of this.  When you lay dying, will you still wonder where that child is?  Maybe now is the time to take the leap.

Pat Goehe knew that someday she would meet the daughter who was adopted out at birth

Lessons of the Labyrinth

Tags

adoptee, birthparents, child adoptee, inner peace, labyrinth, Lauren Artress, recovery

“The end is the beginning,” – T.S. Eliot
Have you ever felt blindsided by life’s events? The deaths of people closest to me, all

The Labyrinth dates back 6,000 years.

happening in just a few years, was nearly unbearable. My adoptive parents, birthparents and husband passed away. How could I go on living? Did I even deserve to? In 2007, following the losses, I built a spiral walking path in my back yard and so it happened that the Labyrinth gave me a way.
The simple act of walking in to the center and then back out, helped clear my mind and reset my emotions. The labyrinth, though profound, is also very simple. When you come to the center of the spiral path, you reverse directions and walk back out.
In my case, the rhythm of that slow walking, combined with breathing deeply and feeling the air around me, gradually changed sadness to something like thoughtfulness. The sharp, ragged pain went away, and a feeling of acceptance took over. Through the days, weeks, months, and years, the labyrinth has been a way for me to tap the inner wisdom that is all too easy to ignore.
So powerful an influence was the labyrinth that I studied with Lauren Artress,
President and Founder of Veriditas, The Voice of the Labyrinth Movement. I read her books on the labyrinth, became a labyrinth facilitator, and hosted walks for friends in my own spiral path.
When I “went public” with my adoption story in The Goodbye Baby:A Diary about Adoption, I wrongly assumed that I’d solved the riddle of my adoption. I’d put my heart and soul into exposing my adoptee past. Through writing the book, I was finally able to forgive myself for a lifetime of oversensitivity about being an adoptee. In retrospect, I accepted the fact that reunions with both of my birthparents, while not a total failure, were not what I’d hoped they would be. I learned to accept even that. In the dealing with adoption department, I was done, finished, complete.
A friend will ask me if I’m “cured” or “over” the issues of adoption. The answer is “Maybe” or “Sometimes.” Like life itself, dealing with adoption is a work in progress. Thanks to walking the labyrinth, I am better able to recognize the negative adoption-induced feelings that come back to haunt. I have learned that those emotions are like the weather, ever-changing. Behind the clouds, sunshine awaits.
That said, I am not sure that one ever lets go of the “adoptee” status. For me, it is who I am. Of the hundreds of adoption stories I’ve read, it is as integral as the color of ones eyes. It doesn’t go away. So, while not “cured,”  I am now “accepting.”
Much of my life was shadowed by an underlying victim mentality. Now, I feel that obstacles forged an inner strength I’d lacked and made me more who I am. I have come to regard being adopted as a gift, not a curse. In this journey toward wholeness and self-acceptance, nothing has been a better teacher than the labyrinth.

The Labyrinth brings Clarity and Peace

ARUNDATI – A Novel In Progress

Tags

1940s, adoptee, adoption, Arundati, child adoptee, human trafficking, inspiriation, novel

ARUNDATI

The incoming tide delivered Arundati to the beach. Bruised, cold, and barely conscious, the child lay by smooth gray rocks, clumps of seaweed, shells and driftwood. In the half-light of late afternoon, she could make out only  dim shapes. When she tried to cry for help, a guttural sound came from deep within. She was too exhausted to form words.

Hindu God Ganesha

Arundati struggled to rise to her feet, collapsed, moaned. By now she was breathing with effort. From a distance she was indistinguishable from other sodden heaps of the ocean’s detritus. Closer inspection revealed an dark-skinned child. Tiny and delicate, she was clad in the shreds of a coarse muslin gown. She might have been five years old. It was hard to tell, as Indian children were much smaller than their counterparts in America or Europe. Waves lapped gently around the girl’s splayed arms and legs, revealing dark ugly bruises and dried blood from knife slashes. Apparently, her light brown skin had served as the canvas for a madman’s rage.

Floating, as if still in water, the child dreamed. It was the beginning of Holi, the festival of colors. She was her Mama and her Babu. They, along with aunties and uncles, were singing. Someone played a tambourine and shook bells.  She and her brother Shubi ran from tree to tree playing tag . Once you touched a tree’s bark, you were safe. If you got tagged before reaching the tree, you had to be the monkey with no home.

As the tide receded, the girl grew even colder. Shivering, she burrowed into the rocky sand, hoping for a bit of warmth. She had traveled a long way and would need many hours to regain her strength. Though she had been thrown into the ocean and presumed, dead by the shipmasters, Arundati somehow  lived. Night was falling.  She breathed in hungrily, filling her lungs with the damp, humid atmosphere of southern India, exhaling in raspy bursts. It would be a long night. Arundati prayed to Ganesha that it would not be her last…