The First Question

I don't write directly about adoption here very frequently.  Although it is a constant in our lives, much of our daily life has nothing to do with adoption.  Drinking aftershave, shoving raisins up your nose, getting cr8ive with the markers. . . that's kid stuff, not adoption stuff!  Plus, we consider alot of our "adoption stuff" private stuff, so we don't share it here. 

But, it also occurs to me that many of my readers (Three regulars -- hi mom! -- and at least two Google searches gone wrong a day! Go me!) don't know much about adoption.  Like this:  I am Matthew's mom.  Matthew also has another mom.  I am totally okay with this.  I want Matthew to know and love his other mom, too.  So we try, reaaaallllyyyy hard, to show that to Matthew.  We talk openly about his adoption and about his first family, we answer questions from Cameron and other inquisitive preschoolers, we wait for the questions from Matthew. We have lots of role models and co-conspirators, from our real-life friends in our transracial adoption group to open adoption bloggers like Dawn.



For quite a while now, Matthew has been able to tell you whose belly he grew in -- J's.  And he's been able to say that J. is his birth mama.  But that's about it.  No questions.  After all, he's two!
Then, a few weeks ago, I was rushing around the house.  "Matthew," I said, "we need to hurry!  Let's get your shoes on!  If we leave right now, we can drop off a letter for J. before we pick Cameron up from school!"  We hurried into the car and drove to the adoption agency.  Our adoption is currently semi-open, and we send letters and photos to Matthew's birth mom, J., through the adoption agency.  We pulled into the parking lot and I unbuckled Matthew.  "Look Matthew!  Here's the letter for J.!  Let's go drop it off!" I said.

We went inside, chatted briefly with the staff and then hustled back to the car to go get Cameron.  As we drove off, Matthew's voice came from the backseat.  "Where's the other mama?" he said.

"What?"

"Where's the OTHER mama?" he repeated.

"Ohhh!  You mean your other mama, J.?" I asked.  Slowly, I realized that when I was saying we were going to drop off a letter for J., Matthew must have been imagining that we'd be handing the letter directly to J.  It was the first time that I actually thought that Matthew understood that J. is a real person, not just a story we tell.

"Yeah, the other mama.  I want the other mama."

"I know, Matthew.  I know you want the other mama.  I'm sorry that you didn't get to see J.  She doesn't live here.  But J. is going to get our letter. She likes to hear about you, Matthew.  And she likes to see pictures of you.  Because she loves you so much."

"Yeah.  I want the other mama.  Oh!  And I want the Didi.  Go get Didi?"

"Yep.  Let's go get Didi."

So, Matthew's first question about adoption ends as quickly as it begins.  And we keep on talking.  And we keep on answering the questions as they come.  And, in the midst of it, we keep on being a family.  And blogging about raisins and aftershave.