I Used To Be More Sensitive To Questions

Emily had this post ready to go, when her family experienced an unimaginable tragedy. While they are working through things, I’m helping to keep the blog’s momentum going and publishing on her behalf. This is one of the many heartfelt stories about her family and children you’ll find on this blog. Emily will be back to share her story in her own words, when she is able.

We adopted all four of our children from foster care at different ages with different experiences. I used to blog about it all the time and it was something that was almost constantly on my mind. It also was on everyone else’s mind.

There were not a lot of people around us who had adopted from foster care, particularly from a different race. The area that we lived in was primarily white, so my adorable children of color were basically impossible to miss. That wasn’t a bad thing. They were beloved. We were viewed as that sweet little family who adopted.

I Was Sensitive to the Words

I used to get all bent out of shape about people’s word choices. I was so insecure about my position as mom that I would get so defensive when people would say things like “Do they all have the same mom?” or “What happened to their mom?” In my head. I would scream “I am mom!!” I worked so hard to become a mom and they would take it away, just like that. I especially got upset when the doctor would ask about mom and dad’s medical history. Come on, lady, you should know better.

Things Are Different Now

I don’t really find myself in those conversations anymore. I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s more common place. Maybe I’m not as defensive so I don’t notice it. Maybe I’m not bringing up the adoption like I used to. I definitely don’t feel the need to defend our relationship like I used to and people usually only find out that my kids are black when they see a picture or if there is a reason to bring it up.

The other day, there was a reason to bring it up.

Have You Seen Friday?

A sub stopped by my room and said “Hi, Ms Parker.” She then was laughing with my para (teacher’s aid) about what I now know to be a reference from the movie “Friday.” I wasn’t listening to the conversation, but she must have said something about me not knowing because I’m white. All I know is my para, said, like in defense of me, “No, she’s got a black son.”

Not Just One Son

That’s when I tuned in. I chimed in “I have three black sons! And a black daughter!”

I didn’t ask why it was brought up until later, I was too busy pulling up pictures to show off my kids.

After the appropriate and very accurate oohs and aahs and comments about how beautiful my family is; she asked the question that the public always wants to know but she asked it like this.

“Are they all connected by the same blood?”

I proudly said they were because I really am proud that we managed to keep these four together.

And, wow, that was pretty amazing. I don’t know how she knew how to ask so appropriately. But she nailed it and gave me respect for who I am to them.

Now I Had Questions

Then I asked why it was brought up in the first place and learned that there is a Ms. Parker in the movie and that seeing the movie is a rite of passage in the black community.

So naturally, this white girl made sure to watch it last weekend to give myself a little more street cred.😆

I was pretty proud of myself and when I announced that I watched it, they asked if I watched the others.

There are others?

It’s Not That Complicated

Some adopters might not be sensitive to terms, some might be hyper-sensitive to it, some might love the birth parents and some might hate them. But, regardless, sometimes the kids are connected by blood.

So for future reference, if you find yourself in this situation and don’t know how to ask, this way is pretty much perfect.