After careful consideration and continued experience with a topic that I am quite certain many people have never considered, I am writing to the caring people who have unintentionally interrupted the transition of our family unit, or at the very least, created confusion among each of us.
I am the wife of 22 years to a wonderful man and the mother to 6 children. Our story of adventure, faith, love, and family is absolutely my favorite story of all. It is a beautiful story that depicts all things from agony to victory. In September, seven years ago, I traveled across the Atlantic ocean to a small African country, Sierra Leone. I was there on a mission trip to assist in opening an orphanage, but my mission became overtly more personal than anyone in my family anticipated.
Earlier that year, we celebrated the 4th, 7th, and 10th birthdays of our three beloved children. Our lives were full and we were very satisfied with the family we had built. Upon initial entry to Sierra Leone, my body experienced sights, smells, and sounds that I had never even imagined. In the course of 2 weeks, I had met three more children, that belonged to me and who had just celebrated their 7th, 9th, and 14th birthdays. A sibling group that was placed in the center of my heart, for good. Our entire family embraced the idea of bringing these kids home, to America, to join us in this walk of life.
Four years later after battles over battles with the government, near and far, our family grew from 5 to 8. It would be ridiculous to give the notion that we then lived happily ever after. This has been, by far, the most difficult thing we have ever done. It is a season-by-season and sometimes day-by-day effort to create family with a multitude of factors that help us along the way, as well as a few that have hindered our efforts to become cohesive.
We realize that when we walk into church, the movie theater or the grocery store, we are a sight to see. If not by the number of people who exit our vehicle or take up an entire row at church, then the diversity will surely attract some attention. We are not the typical family and we love that.
I previously spoke of a multitude of factors that have played a crucial role in the transition of our family, and for the purpose of this letter, I will discuss two of them. People look at our family and hear our story and usually have an instant reaction. Although we have had the unfortunate hate comments, overwhelmingly, our family has not only been accepted, but embraced. As a mother of six children, one of my biggest challenges has been to just get over myself. Did I really think that I could be everything that my children need, or for that matter, did I really think that by somehow attending every single practice or game I could erase the years of abandonment that 50% of my children have experienced? As for the other 50%, did I really think that I could maintain the day-to-day life for them as if our entire world had not just been turned upside down with the addition of 3 more people living in our home? The simple answer is, yes I did. Then one day, a dear friend said to me "Let those around you help. It doesn't make you a bad mother, it allows those of us watching you to do our part. Most of us would never attempt to raise 6 children, much less adopt from another country, so by allowing us to be a blessing, we are blessed." What a profound statement and impactful thought process that has been in our transition as a family. (Factor #1) My husband and I cannot be everything or go everywhere to satisfy all the needs of six kids, but we are so very grateful for those who have, without hesitation, stepped in to take a kid to practice or out of town to a tournament; or taken pictures and sent them to us when we couldn't attend a school play or performance; or excused the mandatory volunteer spot that seems daunting in our currently daily schedule; or the non-judgmental reminders to turn in the paperwork that was undoubtedly overlooked in my sea of extra-curricular emails; and last, but definitely not least, the encouraging words of "you're doing a great job", when we know that we are just doing the best we can.
I don't think I can say enough about the dichotomy of this transition. The harmony and the adversity; the happiness and the hardship. Our 3 adopted children have flourished in this community. They go to public school, play sports, and are loved by so many. That's it, right? As long as those 3 can transition to American life, all is well. I mean they came from such horrific conditions before. We cannot even imagine the challenges they faced. How will they ever transition to understand everything they need to know about living in America at such older ages? People are visibly so proud of them and quit honestly even proud to know them. They tug on the heartstrings of every person who knows them. In the midst of all that, there is a silent, but powerful image in our family unit that very few people, to date, have even noticed. The other 3. The other 3, for lack of a better phrase because literally I have not come up with a better term in the past 3 years. I've tried our 3 biological, the white kids, the first kids, my birth children and the truth is, they are all my children so identifying them for the purpose of separation is difficult at times, but I digress. The other 3 have been true champions through all of this. Remember my comment about being very satisfied with our life before that fateful September? The other 3 kids have been blessed, no doubt, and they had very different experiences in their formative years than the new 3 kids have had. We have always had a very happy life that is peaceful and full of love for each other. Things began to change after that trip to Sierra Leone 7 years ago. They have experienced great amounts of stress and emotional/financial instability during the 4 years it took to bring our kids home and they had no say and no control, and we have yet to hear them complain, even once. Since the time our family grew to 8 people, three years ago, the other 3 have endured watching their parents be unappreciated and treated poorly by the very kids they also watched their parents work so hard to get home. Do they understand that their siblings are only behaving this way because they have never had a family and don't understand real love? Probably not. Is it a good life lesson and one they will be better people for having? Yes. Is it a lot to ask of these kids to unconditionally love and accept three people who have stirred the family dynamic in such a way that it at times feels like the home they have known and grown to depend on is crumbling around their feet? Most definitely, it's a lot to ask.
(Factor #2) Our children have experienced racism and discrimination, but not always as one might think. Racism is self explanatory and requires no more attention drawn to it, but what does if feel like to always be overshadowed by your new siblings just because they have a unique accent or come from a different country? In addition, what does it feel like to be adopted into a new family where you are told from day one that you are now equals with the other kids? You are no longer orphans from a desolate country with little opportunity, but now you are an American, just like your siblings, where the rules are plenty, but the opportunities are endless. We love you all just the same. You will be treated with the same respect and consequences as the other 3. So what does it feel like to be told all of that, yet people in the community still see you as a poor little orphan whom they feel sorry for and treat differently than they do your siblings? Why did someone, anonymously and I'm sure out of the goodness of their heart, buy my child from Africa a yearbook for two consecutive years yet fail to realize that the American born sibling would not be getting one either because the cost of raising a family of eight these days does not allow for $50-$75 yearbooks for each child? Why when there is community work to be done are only my African children considered for the job and well overpaid for the task at hand when their siblings are equally in need of a little spending money? Why would someone, on more than one occasion, drop off clothes or other donations, which our family is none too proud and greatly appreciates, and while all my kids are ravaging through the goods as if it's Christmas morning, come across a little note that says "here are some things for your African kids" to which I watch the 'other three' walk away in shame as if they will never be afforded the same generosity? Countless times I am asked how my kids are doing only to be interrupted in my explanation of how all of my kids to are doing, and then to further understand they only meant my African children. What is this about? The actions of others around us are noted by all 6 of the kids and sometimes it's discussed and other times it just goes away, but why is all of this so? I know people are well intended, and I'm certain they would not intentionally hinder the progression of our family unit, but why then? I don't have a great answer, but I do offer an option. Change your way of thinking and stop feeling sorry for my children. Yes, they came from horrible circumstances, but are there no longer. They are equals to my other children. Living in a family among that equality, even when it's challenges, is one thing that is going to heal them from the past hurts. I have watched these things happen for 3 years now and if you sincerely wish to help our family transition to become strong and healthy, please treat them as equals. If you wish to be a blessing, do so to all of them. Discrimination is unhealthy in every situation, even when it's not overt and done with good intentions.
