Today, my sweet baby girl turns 5. Not only is today her birthday, it is also her first full day of wearing glasses. She is so proud. Glasses are totally big girl, you know. So, in honor of both the birthday and the glasses, I give you the lyrics to a beautiful song, In My Daughter's Eyes: Lately there have been a lot of horror stories in the news involving adopted children. Some people only ever hear the bad stories about adoptions, so the Joint Council on International Children's Services has asked that all adoptive families share the truth about international adoption. Today, hundreds of adoptive parents will be blogging about the truth of their adoptions. So, here is our truth:
I am a single mom by choice. Both of my daughters were born to other women and became my children through adoption. Adoption is a complicated issue. It always, in every case, begins with a loss. My daughters lost their birth families. They lost their birth country. They lost their care-givers. They lost their first language. Somewhere in China, two women lost their beautiful, sweet, innocent babies. How and why aren't really the point. The point is, at the beginning of every adoption story is the story of loss. My children are not my children because it was "meant to be". They are not mine because "God wanted it this way". My daughters are my daughters because out of a really bad situation, we were able to create something wonderful. Out of the heartache and fear of losing everything, my girls were able to gain a new family.
My girls were fairly young when they were adopted. OBaby, at just shy of 11 months, only understood that suddenly, nothing in her world was the same any more. Because she was so young, she was able to easily make the transition to a new care-giver – me. I say easily, but it is never really easy. We had weeks and weeks of sleepless nights spent crying (her, mostly). But she did adjust. And she bonded to me and to our family. And now, she is very surely my daughter, and I am her mommy. The thing she loves best is being with her "whole family" – Mommy, sister, grandparents, aunts, uncle, cousins. At seven, she does understand that she has another family in China. We talk about them sometimes. But mostly, we just live our lives together – just like any other family.
YBaby's adjustment was harder. She was 19 months old, and very attached to her primary care-giver. I know she slept with her (very common in China) and I suspect she was taken from her while she was asleep. She just work up one morning and her "MaMa" was gone. Although she doesn't seem to have a memory of this that she can articulate, the fear is obviously still there – the fear that Mommy might disappear in the night. She has been with me now for over 3 years, and yet she still can't go to sleep at night unless she is touching me – not just sleeping in my bed, but actually touching me. She's improving, though. She no longer wakes up hysterical if I'm not still in bed beside her. She's learned to come look for Mommy. And yet, she still has those moments of fear. Like the other day when her class went on a field trip and she asked me, "Will I never see you again?" She's still not 100% sure that we are forever. And as much as I would love to be able to tell her that MaMas never go away, how can I when she has already lived the truth?
In addition to being my daughters, OBaby and YBaby are sisters. And they ARE sisters. Genetic bonds or not, these two little girls are sisters the same as my sisters and I are. They love each other. They annoy the heck out of each other. They laugh and fight and cry together – just like any other sisters.
The truth of our family is that my daughters joined this family through adoption. That unique start will always make us a little different. We will always have issues to deal with that birth families might not. But the rest of our truth is that we live our lives everyday just like any other family. We go to work and to school. I help O with her homework, and Y sings the weather song to us. The girls fight over Barbies and laugh over Phineas and Ferb – just like any other sisters. They leave their junk all over the house and I get mad. Sometimes I say, "Can anyone actually hear my voice?" – just like every other mom.
We live, we laugh, we love. We are a normal American family. And that, my friends, is THE TRUTH.
We went to a Breakfast with Santa party on Saturday. The girls had a wonderful time talking to Santa and playing with friends. You can't get anything past Olivia, though. After she sat on Santa's lap, she whispered in my ear, "Mommy, is Santa really (our good friend) Dave?" I asked her why she would think that. "Because, he has Dave's face and his voice." Good thing she knows that Santa has helpers all over the world. And how cool is it that our buddy Dave just so happens to be one? 
Ok, so it changed my world. Six years ago today I got a phone call that I had been dreaming about for over 4 years. "You have a daughter," she said. "Her name is Pan Chun An and she was born February 9th in Gaozhou City in Guangdong province." My daughter. My baby. My Olivia.Today, she is a healthy, happy, smart, crazy, fun 6.5 year old who loves pretending she is a pop star or that her little sister is a super model. She can spell turkey and pumpkin (can you tell they are doing holiday words?) and read One Fish Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish all by herself. She got her first trophy last night for being a Pop Warner cheerleader (pictures tomorrow!) and scored 2 baskets during her evaluation to play Upward basketball. She is everything good and wonderful and perfect about being a little girl. And the best part is, she's all mine. I love her to pieces, and then I love up the pieces. My Pan Chun An. My OBaby. My girl.
I got to spend Halloween afternoon with all of these beautiful princesses. Have you ever seen a cuter bunch of friends?
This is Princess Aurora - the princess with an attitude. Yes, she is way too cool.
And here we have the Butterfly Princess. She is as sweet as she is cute. 
