This is another blog about how my feelings didn’t quite match up to my beliefs when put to the test.
Is it easier to accept that our adopted children have special needs than it is with our birth children? To be sure, knowing ahead of time helps. We adopted our first daughter knowing there was a 50-50 chance she’d need open heart surgery within two years. It was a common, “routine” operation, we were assured, and we glibly proceeded with plans. One day I stopped short and realized that if someone told me my birth son, then a toddler, would need open-heart surgery I would really freak out. I don’t think it’s a matter of loving one more, but rather of a) not having met our daughter yet, so the surgery was more abstract (the thought of someone sawing into the tiny chest I caressed each day did freak me out when she got home) and b) expectations.
Expectations—that’s the crux of it, I think. I saw a column by Ellen Goodman once where she said she thought adoptive parents had an edge over other parents in letting their kids’ personalities unfold and enjoying them for who they are. I think that’s true. I also think I was helped by the fact that there are huge differences, in appearance, talent and personality, in my birth family.
There was one thing about my birth family, though: we all did well in school, despite some dyslexia here and there. I’ve talked with a friend whose (adopted) son struggles in school as my daughter has. I asked her if she thought we were more serene about accepting their special needs than a biological parent would be. Perhaps we don’t feel that aspersions are being cast on our genes, although I don’t think I’d feel that anyway.
Certainly there is not the element of guilt and wondering if I could have done anything differently during pregnancy or birth. (I do remember being mortified when my toddler who got her teeth in Korea had no cavities but my birth son did! I know there are natural differences in vulnerability, but still it was a shock to my subconscious belief that I could be a nearly perfect parent.)
But I think it’s mostly as Ellen Goodman said. I can celebrate the ways my girls are like me without being surprised or disappointed by the ways they are not.
Now here is where my attitude is tested a bit: my birth son’s teacher just recommended speech therapy. Now this is a minor thing, so common I’ve seen a “speech therapy” magnet on a children’s calendar next to soccer practice and music lessons. And yet, it feels just a bit strange. It is the first time anyone has ever implied anything remotely like a “special need” about my son. (My family and I always thought he had a cute accent. Logically, I admit it’s probably time I got a wake-up call, since he’s nearly ten.)
Yet I can’t help wanting to say, “but, but, he’s just like me and his dad. We don’t have trouble with language”.
I’m truly not as upset as I may sound here. My feelings are mild. I’m just exploring here how they surprised me a bit. I did have an idea who my son was, and it was influenced by the child I had been, and it did bring me up a bit short to have that idea challenged.
I think Ellen Goodman was right—all parents should remember that all children are lent to us to raise, not miniature versions of ourselves to keep.
Please see these related blogs:
How Much is Genes, How Much is Environment?
“Do You Love Them Both the Same?”
Talking With Children About Special Needs
Principles for Talking with Children about Special Needs
Children With Speech or Language Impairment