ABOUT THIS BLOG

The Whydah is an African bird with a remarkably long tail.  Unlike other species, it doesn’t lay its eggs in its own nest.  It lays its eggs into the nest of Finches.

The Whydah chick looks completely different from the host nestlings.  But when it opens its mouth, the resemblance is remarkable — the young Whydah chick has a gape and mouth spots that closely mimic those of its nest mates.

The hard-working parents see no difference in the row of open mouths, and feed the babies equally.  The Whydah chick simply grows up with their adoptive family.

It’s so fitting that this blog is being introduced with this remarkable parable that all adoptive parents can relate to. We adoptive parents are unique people. We, by the very nature of the process, need to be resourceful, persistent and thoughtful. People often ask us how we can love children that aren’t our own. I understand this question, but find it difficult to answer.

I love this parable because I actually did forget once, that I was not my daughter’s “real” mother. When Stacee was three she had a persistent fever and was turning bright red. After a few days of trying to figure this out, my pediatrician told me to drive directly to the Children’s Hospital and get her admitted. He suspected, rightfully so, that she had Kawasoki’s Disease. This is an unusual disease, common among Asians with just these symptoms. It’s a very treatable disease, but time was of the essence and the result of not treating it was the possibility of permanent damage to Stacee’s heart.

As I sat in the admitting department, with this hot, bright red child on my lap, I was distraught to say the least. The nurse began getting a history from me, about my health, and my family’s health. For fifteen minutes I answered all of her questions, and then thought, Jane, have you lost your mind, your health history is totally irrelevant. I’d forgotten that wasn’t Stacee’s birth mother and in fact, knew nothing about her health history. I apologized to the nurse for wasting her time and that was that.

Happily I had gotten there in time and thirty-six hours later after dosing her aspirin through an IV, the symptoms were gone, and there was no damage. The doctor asked me if he could bring medical interns to see what this rare disease looked like and I said sure. Each time he came by he would always say, “This is Jane and her daughter Stacee. Jane forgot she wasn’t Stacee’s mom, and I think that it is the sweetest story I have every witnessed.” That’s the story I tell when asked how I can love a child that isn’t my own.

Welcome to my blog. This is how my blog is structured. I entertain, enlighten and tell stories that tell the story of adoption, from my point of view, and from the words and stories from my children. Please tell me your stories as well – this is going to be a fun, heart-warming and rich “journey” for all of us.