Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Adoption”

Happy Mother’s Day


I sure am glad I did not forget today.  But it was apparent this morning, while at the grocery store to get some breakfast items, there were many who definitely did not remember today.  And to say it was a gender issue, with the majority of customers being men (probably 95%), is an understatement.  Yep, so many just remembered this morning in fact, today is Mother’s Day.  Fortunately, Publix was prepared to bail out the absent-minded gentlemen.  Their reputations for being the most thoughtful would be saved.

I live quite a distance from my mother, so I was reliant on the United States Postal Service to get my gift to my mother in time.  That required me to remember at least a week in advance.

I have written about the relationship between my mother and I over the years.  While not the typical “Norman Rockwell” portrait of a family, our relationship is what we have made it today.  And that is what counts.

Yes, we rely on Moms to take care of our bumps and bruises, help us with homework, and cook some of the greatest Macaroni and Cheese, but it is in adulthood that we really get the chance to see the true value of “mom.”  And then “mom” realizes her role changes as well.

My mother has gone through a lot with me as her son.  And though really I cannot take all the blame for it, because of the many health issues I have, it kind of does make it my fault.  Unlike as a child though, the care of my “bumps and bruises” as an adult are now handled by me.  For the most part, I make her sit on the sidelines, watching, trying to coach from the bench, cheering me on.  And I know she wants to do more.

I feel she has more important things to do now as my mother, at least more important to me.  At some point in a mother’s life, there is a good chance she is going to take on a new role, grandmother.  Now, while today is Mother’s Day, my mother’s role as a grandmother is important to me.

During my early childhood days, my mother had to work second shift jobs.  Which meant after I came home from school, my grandmother took care me during the week.  The majority of my childhood years spent with my grandmother, was probably the most critical period of my life as there was so much that I learned from her, not just the every day stuff, but lessons in life.  But I also grew very close to my grandmother.

Not only would my grandmother become my moral compass in life, she was the most important inspiration to me when I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  She was the first cancer survivor I had ever known.  And I knew that if she could do it, I would follow in her footstep, even using the same oncologist.  Of course we know how this story has played out.  I am currently a 27 year survivor.

When she passed away, it really hit me, what I had lost.  I realized just how important a role she played in my life.

But as an adult, I witnessed other grandparents in action.  So many were just so proud to show off their grandkids and all the memories that they were making.  And the pictures all showed the same thing, huge smiles from the grandchild looking up at either “poppop” or playing with grandma.

As a parent, I witnessed this new bond and its importance first hand.  My children loved my father, and love my mother.  Right from the beginning, I made it a point to make sure that both of my parents, even though divorced, would each play an important role in my daughters’ lives.  When it came time for visits, both of my daughters were eager to make the hour long drive to visit both of my parents in each of their homes.  They greeted my parents with excited hugs and kisses, and lots of giggles.  And when it came time to leave, my daughters left with the biggest hugs and “can’t wait to see you again” kisses goodbye.  My daughters valued my parents as much as I valued my mother’s mother.

In recent times, the role of grandmother and mother have combined in a huge way, and what I once thought was impossible.  Two years ago, my mother gave me the surprise of a lifetime.  Not only was she going to get on a plane and fly to visit me, she was bringing two very important co-passengers… her granddaughters, my daughters.

It was the first time my mother had flown.  It also gave my mother some very special time with her granddaughters and vise versa.  This trip has been repeated, and will continue.  This is a special thing between my daughters and my mother, their grandmother, something all will always remember, especially me.

The best gift I could give my mother is the appreciation I have, for all the love and kindness she gives and shares with my daughters every chance she gets.  To know how much she means to my daughters, and my daughters to her, is what means the most to me at this point in my life.

I know today is supposed to be a happy one, lots of flowers, making breakfast for mom, taking mom to dinner.  And of course, flowers and cake.

But my heart goes out to so many too, who grieve on this day.  Because of my circumstances and age, I know so many today who grieve for their mothers.  And a totally different sorrow, mothers who grieve the loss of their child.  If there is any solace, it is seeing the memories that they have been sharing today, that clearly show how much each other meant in their lives, and there are happy memories to remember them by.  And it is my hope, that they can still find the ability to celebrate that love today.  Because at one time, this day meant something special in the physical sense, it should mean just as much in the spiritual sense and memories.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Why… When I Was Your Age…


Both of my daughters are at an age where I find myself reminiscing to a certain time period in my life, early teenage years.  For some reason, I find myself focusing on Saturday mornings and afternoons.  Typically, my daughters will either entertain themselves or perhaps spend time with a friend or two.

But back when I was their age, okay, a little bit older, I had just relocated to a new school.  One of the first friends I made was Kevin.  We had similar interests in music and bowling.  More importantly, he made me feel welcome during a time that I had been forced into and to adapt to.  Kevin actually lived in the neighborhood that I had just moved to also.  I got to meet his family, a sister, and his mother and father.  A very nice family who to this day, I hold them all in a special place in my heart.

During the school year, Kevin would drive us to a local bowling alley.  We both bowled in a junior bowling league on Saturday mornings.  I was good.  But Kevin was better.  We enjoyed bowling so much, that we both got certified to coach younger children in bowling.  And we would coach the afternoon shift of kids from beginners to even fellow teenagers.  Come to think of it, I was a good bowler, but I found myself to be a better coach.

As soon as we were both done with our shift of bowling, part 2 of our Saturday morning, meant a fun lunch at Kevin’s grandparents’ home, just blocks away from the bowling alley.  Kevin’s grandmother would run to the grocery store, and come home with hoagies for us to eat.

We would do two other things along with eating.  Every Saturday, we would watch the syndicated weekly pro wrestling episodes.  Waaaayy before the WWE got huge, the WWF used to film in my hometown of Allentown, at our fairground property, Agricultural Hall.  The WWF would film here every three weeks I believe, and break down those filmings over the next few weeks to be televised.  We also had a unique connection to the WWF.  The ring announcer was a long time staple named Joe McHugh.  The connection was that his brother, John, was the principal of our high school.  There was no Monday Night Raw or even WrestleMania at that time yet.  So, the Saturday morning wrestling was pretty much all we had.

The other thing we did during our lunch break, was talk with Kevin’s grandfather.  He was a very sweet man named Joe.  Joe would tell us stories of when he was younger, including war stories.  It was always interesting to hear the details he would tell of his experiences.  To this day, I still enjoy hearing stories from my elders.

After lunch, Kevin and I would head back to the bowling alley and coach the final afternoon shift.

Of all things that I look back on from my youth, this is one of the times that I always remember fondly.  As time went on, I would eventually combine with Kevin again, and his grandfather, along with Kevin’s dad and uncle, and we would make a pretty awesome adult bowling team.  I believe Kevin’s grandfather was well into his eighties at the time, but he still enjoyed getting on the lanes.

Almost 35 years after graduation, I still keep these memories close to my heart.  And I still consider Kevin a good friend.

 

When You Give A Girl A New Country


Today, I am welcoming a guest author today.  Though we have never met, we have a personal connection, which, when I saw her blog title, I knew that I wanted to share her thoughts with those in my personal circle.  You see… Haley is adopted from China.  I actually got to meet her parents when Haley’s family and I each adopted our second child (respectively) from China.  Haley’s younger sister, and my youngest daughter has a bond that will last forever.  Haley’s family and my family are connected forever.

There are already so many children who have been adopted from China, who have now reached adulthood.  As our children grow, because the majority of us in the adoption world are blended families culturally having those issues to deal with, there are also the needs, interests, and issues that the child will have to deal with themselves.  Well… who better than to reveal what goes on in the mind of someone who has been adopted, heading into adulthood, than someone who is there right now.

So, please allow me to introduce you to Haley, a senior in high school.

“When You Give A Girl A New Country”

In my family, we celebrate an extra holiday every year.

We call it my “Gotcha Day” because on September 12th, 1999, I met my parents for the first time. That day is the day we became a family.

I’m writing this article to answer some frequently asked questions about adoption that I have gotten over the years, currently get, and will continue to get throughout my life. I answer these questions on behalf of myself and many other adopted kids around the world; I’m sure they’ve received the same questions and can relate to my answers.

Growing up, being adopted has proven to be interesting. Some people try to avoid talking or asking about my adoption; many treat it like a sensitive topic. People view the notion of adoption as a tragedy—they treat talking about adoption like talking about a death. People tread very lightly when asking me about my adoption, and they always seem to be very uncomfortable and nervous.

The former has always confused me, because why should anyone feel uncomfortable to ask me about my loving family? Why is the very blessing that brought me to where I am today treated like a tragedy?

Probably the most frequent question I get asked is if I would want to meet my birth parents eventually. Being that the adoption was international and thus closed, we have very little information on either of my birth parents, so the idea of ever actually meeting them is very far out of reach. But even if I could, I don’t know why I’d want to. Meeting them wouldn’t be some magical moment like it would be in the movies. I wouldn’t feel any kind of special connection to them immediately or anything. Who’s to say I would even like them?

I think this is only a thing adopted kids truly understand, but having blood to blood relation doesn’t actually have anything to do with being a family. I have encountered the term “real” parents multiple times in my life, and I want to make it clear that my parents that I live with now are my real parents. They clothed me, fed me, cared for me, and raised me. They are the people that are responsible for the person that I am today, and they are the people that gave me the entire world. I don’t know about me, but it is them that deserve the title of “real” parents. They parented me, thus they are my real parents.

Another frequently asked question I receive is if I am upset or angry at my birth parents for giving me up.

Honestly, I’m not upset or angry at all, but instead, I am indescribably grateful for the decision that my birth parent(s) made to give me up for adoption. They chose the best option out of what I see was three: the first being adoption, the second being to kill me (wich is a common practice done to unwanted children in Asia), and the last being to keep me and try to raise me. Although I do not know the circumstances of my birth parent(s) situation, I can infer that because they indeed did give me up that they were not in the best position to keep me. If they tried to keep me, my life would’ve been a struggle.

I cannot express my gratitude towards my birth parent(s)’ knowledge of what my life would’ve been for me and instead of selfishly keeping me, deciding to give me up and give me opportunities they would’ve never been able to provide.

One of the most commonly asked questions that I’ve received throughout my life is if I believe my parents do not love me, or could not love me, as much as they would if I was their biological child. And this brings me back to a point that I made earlier: blood relationship does not define family.

My family has shown me more love and care than I could ever repay them for. They’ve given me the world and provided me with everything I could’ve wished for in the world. Without them, I would be nothing. They have loved and supported me as if I was their own, because honestly, I am their own.

Although I was not born of the two of them, they are still my parents and they will always be my parents. Biological relation is irrelevant in family. Family is about showing love, care, and support throughout a child’s entire life, and that’s what my family has given me.

 – Haley

 

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