To never know the love of a family
At the time I adopted there were only a couple of hundred adoptions a year in Australia, most of them overseas, and now there are even less.
Adult advocates, scarred by the experience of growing up as Korean transracial adoptees, have been successful in winding down overseas adoption programs while less successful in changing Korean culture to one where adoption is more normalised
This means a lot of children are now being raised in institutions. Sadly some adult adoptees see this as the better alternative to removing a child from their birth culture.
I say, an institution has no culture.
What is has is routines. These children are cared for, nobody is saying it is a re-run of the dying rooms run by the Chinese in the nineties, but every child deserves love.
When I first saw my son, one and a half years after beginning the adoption process, my heart flipped in my chest and I felt an instantaneous rush of hormones and outpouring of love.
I was a little scathed by the training which focused very heavily on the loss of the birth mother and the blowback to adoption practices in the 70s, whereby adoption had come to be viewed almost as theft.
I hadn't met the social worker who introduced me to the photo of my son before, but she saw the conflict deep in my eyes and grabbed my hand and pressed it. "You are now this little boys mum and dad. He doesn't have anyone else."
And therein was the paradox. She wasn't denying the existence of his birth parents but acknowledging the fact that they weren't there. We were.
At this I felt my mothers protectiveness kick in and I knew I would fight for this child, this baby, with all my heart for his entire life.
In those moments, though I hadn't yet held him in my arms, a family was formed.
And as I took him into my life, so too he took me into his planting in my heart the roots of a strong and enduring love for Korea and its people.
An unbreakable connection.
My son has had three mothers.
His birth mother, his foster mother and his adoptive mother.
In my mind's eye I see his three mothers standing with linked armed, determined that this child will not fall between the cracks.
His birth mother gave him life and wished for him to bring her pride by creating a family for a couple who longed for one but couldn't have one
His foster mother took care of him in the difficult early months, giving of herself selflessly to form a bridge to a family who could take him in and raise him as their own.
And then me and my love. I can honestly say that for me there is zero difference between the love of a biological and adopted child.
Every bit of them is as precious and miraculous.
Every toe must be kissed just alike.
Every picture they create cherished.
Every hurt they feel is as deeply felt and every bit of pride in them as strong, if not stronger, because their journey has been further.
You'd feed yourself to bugs if it somehow kept them safe just the same.
I believe that if there is a biological premium placed on love, it isn't love, it is possession.
We are made to love. Wired for it. And every child deserves it. Adopted or no.
There is no greater failure than a failure to love a child.
I wish for no family to be broken, and in a imperfect world I also celebrate the beauty of the tapestry of adoption.
My life's greatest achievement. ❤
@Coppercicada 😊
Adult advocates, scarred by the experience of growing up as Korean transracial adoptees, have been successful in winding down overseas adoption programs while less successful in changing Korean culture to one where adoption is more normalised
This means a lot of children are now being raised in institutions. Sadly some adult adoptees see this as the better alternative to removing a child from their birth culture.
I say, an institution has no culture.
What is has is routines. These children are cared for, nobody is saying it is a re-run of the dying rooms run by the Chinese in the nineties, but every child deserves love.
When I first saw my son, one and a half years after beginning the adoption process, my heart flipped in my chest and I felt an instantaneous rush of hormones and outpouring of love.
I was a little scathed by the training which focused very heavily on the loss of the birth mother and the blowback to adoption practices in the 70s, whereby adoption had come to be viewed almost as theft.
I hadn't met the social worker who introduced me to the photo of my son before, but she saw the conflict deep in my eyes and grabbed my hand and pressed it. "You are now this little boys mum and dad. He doesn't have anyone else."
And therein was the paradox. She wasn't denying the existence of his birth parents but acknowledging the fact that they weren't there. We were.
At this I felt my mothers protectiveness kick in and I knew I would fight for this child, this baby, with all my heart for his entire life.
In those moments, though I hadn't yet held him in my arms, a family was formed.
And as I took him into my life, so too he took me into his planting in my heart the roots of a strong and enduring love for Korea and its people.
An unbreakable connection.
My son has had three mothers.
His birth mother, his foster mother and his adoptive mother.
In my mind's eye I see his three mothers standing with linked armed, determined that this child will not fall between the cracks.
His birth mother gave him life and wished for him to bring her pride by creating a family for a couple who longed for one but couldn't have one
His foster mother took care of him in the difficult early months, giving of herself selflessly to form a bridge to a family who could take him in and raise him as their own.
And then me and my love. I can honestly say that for me there is zero difference between the love of a biological and adopted child.
Every bit of them is as precious and miraculous.
Every toe must be kissed just alike.
Every picture they create cherished.
Every hurt they feel is as deeply felt and every bit of pride in them as strong, if not stronger, because their journey has been further.
You'd feed yourself to bugs if it somehow kept them safe just the same.
I believe that if there is a biological premium placed on love, it isn't love, it is possession.
We are made to love. Wired for it. And every child deserves it. Adopted or no.
There is no greater failure than a failure to love a child.
I wish for no family to be broken, and in a imperfect world I also celebrate the beauty of the tapestry of adoption.
My life's greatest achievement. ❤
@Coppercicada 😊
