We attended a baby shower this weekend for my brother and sister-in-law. Little man was invited, so he came and got to meet my brother's wife for the first time. I was hoping he'd notice her bulging belly so I could tell him about his cousin-to-be in there. Of course, he's young & oblivious to the size and shape of peoples' bodies. He did look around briefly for "the baby" when we talked about her, but he quickly decided that "baby hiding". A nearby dirt pile was far more interesting than his yet-to-be-born cousin.
I got to meet a lot of my sister-in-law's extended family, who oohed over Little Man's curls and friendly demeanor. "His hair is FANTASTIC. Who did he get the curls from??" they smiled. "Oh, we're not sure," I say. Most days I like to talk about adoption; I advocate it whenever I can and probably overdo it, but I also want our son to grow up knowing that it's just one part of him. I don't ever deny how he came to our family, but if I'm having smalltalk with a stranger, I don't always feel the need to tell them the origin of our family. I know a lot of adoptive families don't have that luxury.
Part of the reason I sometimes hesitate is that when I do speak of it to strangers, I run the risk of receiving "Wuf" -- well-meaning, uneducated feedback. If Little Man is standing by, and someone says something derogatory about adoption, birth parents in general, so-called "drug babies" or anything else that might be harmful to my little one's self image, I'd rather let the fact that he is adopted remain guarded.
Case in point: shopping at the mall, I got commentary from a passerby about the benefits of breastfeeding. (He was barely seven months at the time and was enjoying his afternoon bottle.) I mentioned how difficult it is for adoptive parents to breastfeed, and that he was doing just fine, thanks for the input. The passerby stopped, clucked like a chicken, and then exclaimed "Well he looks just like you! You don't have to tell everyone he's adopted. You don't even have to tell HIM!"
I just blinked at the Chicken Lady. (Now, she was no spring chicken -- I'd guess probably in her late sixties or seventies.) I figured she was still adhering to the adoption ideals of her youth. "Adoption is very different these days," I said shakily. (My mommy defence system was still in its infancy!) "I'm proud that he's adopted." She just shook her head before walking away muttering something even MORE offensive about "giving away" "beautiful baby", and "such a shame". Cluck Cluck Cluck. I wasn't listening anymore. I was focusing on my baby in my arms, and hoping that the Chicken Lady would gather up all her like-minded hens and head for the hills.
So excuse me if I take a break from promoting adoption and just enjoy a moment with my family. There will be plenty of opportunities to dialogue with potential adoptive parents, and to educate the masses about the kids we have waiting in our province.
Today I'm enjoying my son, and no, I'm sorry I can't tell you where his curls came from!
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