Our Noche Buena

The Spanish phrase means a good night. Really, Christmas Eve is more important to me now than Christmas Day (though I will bake whole wheat Cinnamon rolls for the family tomorrow). We are preparing to move to New Mexico from Missouri after this property sells. Everything is disrupted here this year. It is sort of a Grinchy Christmas with no tree, stockings or gifts this year.

My mom had a really nice antique nativity. We didn’t put baby Jesus in the manger until Christmas Day. I continue to think of, and in my own way, honor my childhood family celebrations on Christmas Eve. I make Green Chili Enchiladas – not as my mom made them but a heathier version with leftover Thanksgiving Turkey and Kale, no cheese – like an ending to the holiday phase (though we still have New Year’s Eve to get through, before it really ends).

I grew up on the Mexican border in El Paso Texas. After our enchiladas, we would take a drive to look at the luminarias that would line many homes and sidewalks and even Rim Road overlooking the city and across the river Mexico.

Because the Catholic Church dominates the region, Midnight Mass was also common. After meeting my husband, he took me to Midnight Mass one year at the big cathedral in St Louis Missouri. I needed that reassurance because not long before that, I had a dream of stopping to ask someone for directions in downtown St Louis and they shot me with a gun to take my purse. I was so angry they would steal my life when I had so little in that purse and would have given it to them. Thankfully, that Christmas Eve downtown helped me get over it.

I realize this is not my typical “Missing Mom” blog but this year, I am missing my mom a lot. She passed away in late September 2015. We were supposed to visit my parents for Thanksgiving. She had been worrying me a lot with her health issues. I asked her if I needed to come home right away and she said, No, Thanksgiving will be soon enough – but it wasn’t. Then, came that New Year’s Eve when my dad had a stroke and had to be airlifted to a big hospital. He came out not believing he had one until he read the discharge papers. (my youngest sister saved him from rehab and I resisted a follow up with his primary care doctor who wanted to do that also). My dad died 4 months after my mom did. They were both adoptees and had been married for over 50 years, high school sweethearts. So, yeah. Christmas is when we think of family and I miss my dad too. Upon reflection, the holidays bring up some residual grief and sadness for me.

A Lot of Tears and Hurt

We don’t always see the flip side of adoptee reunions but I do read about them sometimes in my all things adoption group. Here’s one I read about today –

I found my birth family 2021. It’s probably been more painful to find them, than great. It has brought me a lot of tears and hurt and confusion to be honest. My birth mom is in Jail and will be forever. I will never meet her. On the other hand, I have a large birth family. My adoptive parents are wonderful people, My adoptive mom is African American and my adoptive dad is white. Upon finding my birth family, turns out they are extremely Mexican. Although, of course, I’m Mexican by blood, I have no idea of the culture or even the Spanish language. I have found it harder to fit in and to feel like “one of them,” I had been told I have an older sister. Let me tell you, I thought it’d be rainbows and unicorns….NOT. It is so hard to break through her high wall. She is very introverted and private. I know she’s trying but there’s been times she shuts me out, whenever she goes through whatever stuff.

I just feel as if, still today, they all don’t feel at all like “family,” as much as I want them to. I feel like such an odd ball around them, when they talk about childhood memories and all… I just sit there feeling like an outcast. I didn’t have a sibling growing up, so I think I’m craving that more than the sister I have found … She grew up with siblings, so she doesn’t crave the same way I do…and it sucks. Anyway, I found out the other day that my birth aunt is on Hospice. I was invited to go and say my goodbye’s. I’m not heartless but I just feel as it’s not my place, since I have only talked to her 3 times since I found them. I don’t wanna offend anyone by not going. But I honestly don’t want to go… and I’ve just been dealing with my own stuff. I hate to hurt other people’s feelings, I mean if I don’t go, would they think less of me or that I just “don’t care ” or ..

Another adoptee replied – it bothers me so much when people say “oh they can just find them when their adults” because like you said, you missed out on so much and feel like an outcast. My birth mother has dementia and other medical issues and her niece is very controlling and just when I thought I had made some headway with being able to see her, she went in the hospital and no one told me, until I was on my way to visit on Christmas day when I texted my uncle. Then, I didn’t know where she was because it was being kept a secret from other family members (who I don’t even talk to). Anyway, sorry to spill part of my long story but just so you know, I understand how you feel.

For myself as well. Not an adoptee but the child of 2 adoptees who has found family that my parents were robbed of ever knowing. It is true, one can’t make up for all those missing years of family interactions that one doesn’t have, after living apart for decades. I find that I now don’t feel truly “related” to all my adoptive family and I don’t feel a part of my genetic family. It sucks really.

Evolving Approaches

There may come a day when adoption is a rare occurrence but that day isn’t here yet. What is happening is that adoption is experiencing a more honest, truthful and open approach to the reality where adoption has already occurred. And there is at least one group (I know because I belong to it) where the members seek to convince mothers-to-be who may be considering a surrender of their baby for adoption to at least try parenting first. That is one of the ways that adoption may become rare someday.

One question may be – how young is too young to tell a child they are adopted ? Some advice is – not to ever wait. Putting off talking with your adopted child about how they came to live with you often becomes a never good time to tell. I know of one case where that situation has become very very complicated and the truth is still not shared with young adult adoptees. It has become difficult in an unusual way, so understanding this, I am not judging it, but it is an example of what can happen when telling is put off until the child is “older”.

One adoptee shares – I had an adoption story that was bare bones to start with, as I got older, more information and whys were added, discussions evolved from that retelling. So, create a short TRUE story of how you came to adopt your child – 4 or 5 sentences long at a very young age. Practice telling the story to a friend, in the mirror so YOU are comfortable telling it. Then ask your child if they want to hear about when you adopted them….and tell your child that story.

Waiting until the child is older means they’ve lived that many years without you being truthful with them about who the child is. Just don’t wait. You want your child to trust you and they will if you are always telling them the truth. Set a date on the calendar to do it soon, a very short story of how you came to adopt them…

Another issue that often comes up with transracial adoptions is about teaching these children about their culture of origin. It’s never too early to start introducing things from the child’s heritage.

For example, a Puerto Rican child adopted by a white family. Some suggestions – Introduce Spanish as a normal part of your household, even if that means everyone learning it. Watch as much cultural content about Puerto Rico and its history as possible, and try to find opportunities to connect the child with their culture. Connect with the child’s biological family’s religious traditions – if that is a possibility – so it isn’t foreign to them. Always speak positively about their family, heritage, and culture. Plan a family trip to Puerto Rico when the child is of elementary school age, and then return as frequently as your finances allow. Bonus – learn about your child’s roots and connect to them in tangible ways. Try making some local friends who are Puerto Rican and see them regularly. If this all feels like too much, just recognize that your child is currently surrounded by American culture 24/7.

It goes without saying that this advice applies to all other ethnic groups and countries from which Americans adopted children on an international scale.

Even in those situations where the biological parents are addicted and may even be violent, or maybe the mother never wanted to keep her child, leaving the hospital as soon as she gave birth . . .

There is likely to be some extended family somewhere who would be open to some form of contact. Every child should have those biological ties as much as it is safe and of course, desired by the child themselves. And don’t forget – people DO often change over time. How they were at one point in their lives evolves and they become more conventional in their lifestyle and behavior.

Finally, it’s okay if a young child doesn’t understand what being adopted actually means. An adoptive parent should openly talk about it anyway. The child will always remember being told their story, about their birth or whatever is known and can be shared in a positive manner. Adopted children will talk about being adopted, if they have always heard that, even before the child fully understands what it means. Truly, it IS simply a part of who the child is.