Earlier in October, Carrie Goldman who runs the Portrait of an adoption series on Chicago Now reached out asking if I would like to submit a piece for their 10th anniversary run. I agreed and thought about what I wanted to write given this is National Adoption Awareness Month. The liminal space in adoption is…
I woke up to a message on FB with a link to this Buzzfeed article on Myka Stauffer. Prior to reading the article, I had no idea who she was. It is a reflection on how little I am connected to the world of influencers and their ilk. I read the article a few times.…
Each November adoptionland is rife with op-eds, hashtags, conferences, panels and social media blitzes by all members of the triad. #FlipTheScript was all I heard over the past few years. I listened hard and reflected on what I heard. Some years, I wrote about my experience with openness in the context of our lives. This…
Read more #NAM2018 National Adoption Awareness Month: What Can Adoptive Parents Do?
My daughter, all of nine and I are standing, facing each other. I hold a tube of cucumber face pack and apply the goo in an even layer all over her face. I avoid her fine blond hair, so pale that I have to look carefully to even see it. Up close, her face is…
“I am bored!” The words seem to resound, bounce off the walls of our home over the weekend. If they were not out biking or prone on the sofa, eyes glazed over, watching something inane on the television, they start like cicadas, a lone voice, growing, amplifying into a resonant chorus until I either yell…
An essay I wrote earlier this year reflecting on how my mothering my children feels cleaved is now online on the Adoptive Families Magazine website. If you are not a subscriber, you can read the piece here: Adoptive Motherhood_Cleaved.
cleave1split or sever (something), especially along a natural line or grain.“the large ax his father used to cleave wood for the fire” cleave2stick fast to.“Rose’s mouth was dry, her tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth” adhere strongly to (a particular pursuit or belief).“part of why we cleave to sports is that excellence is…
I am crouched behind the door, my large frame cramped on the tiny steps leading down to the basement. Pattu and Laddu are downstairs in the room farthest from where I am and I can still hear the muted sounds from the iPad they are playing with. Ammu is seated on the stairs across from…
“I don’t like my fake name” muttered Ammu, my first daughter. I was bent over the stove tossing rice noodles in a base of lemon and sesame oil. The heady aroma of tempered mustard and curry leaves almost made me miss the statement. A part of me always attuned to disturbances in the air peaked…
