Madonna Adopts?

(Note: In the time it took me to write this entry, the press has done a turn around and is now saying that, no, actually, she didn’t adopt. And maybe later we’ll find that she did. But in any case, I think the sentiments expressed in this entry can stand no matter what Madge has decided to do or not do. We shant let Queen Madge dictate our writing.)

So – you all probably already know that Madonna and her husband have just adopted a one-year-old boy from Malawi. A transracial, international adoption.

I’m not going to even pretend that we know anything like the real story. Who knows why they adopted, what the process was like, what their intentions truly are? I will say, if they are actually true, some of the details I’ve read make me uncomfortable (she had the orphanage officials gather 12 different children and then chose the one she wanted. Malawi rescinded their ban on international adoption just for her. She has donated a significant amount of money to build schools, but with the caveat that the children attending these schools will be taught a Kabbalah based curriculum…). And I just can’t help feeling that uneasy, torn feeling when I read about one more celebrity choosing international adoption.

Some of this is purely about me and how this is all perceived. I hate that something that is as life changing, as huge, as important, as the decision to adopt, is, by pure force of celebrity, made to look like a hip and happening trend. I hate that some people see pictures of these people with their children and think that those babies are merely cute accessories like the latest bag or mini dog (though, believe me, I’m not saying anyone should be taking on a pet as an accessory, either). I hate that international adoption has become a joke in some circles – made into shorthand for women “too vain to spoil their body with pregnancy” or for people who collect children like a crazy cat lady collects pillow cases full of kittens. And like I said, I am certain that we’re not getting anything near the full story when we read about another adoption. When we read about Maddox or Zahara or the baby formerly known as Daisy who is now Charlotte. I just hate that all this publicity somehow reflects on our decision. That some people I know probably think we are doing an international adoption because it’s the thing to do. As if we haven’t approached this decision with proper thought and research and gravity. As if we are doing something for fashion’s sake. That makes me a little crazy. And I want to be clear about the fact that I don’t necessarily think that Angelina Jolie or Madonna or Meg Ryan or Ewan MacGregor – or whoever – adopted for any other reasons than the usual good, solid, selfish ones – that they wanted a baby. That they thought they’d be good parents. That they felt they were equipped to deal with both the problems and joys of being a multi racial family. And I won’t say that having a great deal of money wouldn’t be a blessing in some ways. I mean, how many adoptive families would say no to being able to afford to regularly visit (or even own a home in, in the case of the Jolie-Pitt family) their children’s birth country? (Okay, unfortunately, maybe a lot of adoptive parents would say no. But we sure as hell wouldn’t). Who wouldn’t be pleased to be able to afford the best possible tutors for their children so that they could grow up bi-lingual and immersed in the culture and language of their birth country? I mean, people who have the money, and the will to make it happen, can make their children’s eventual search for their cultural and racial identity that much easier.

And the positive flip side of all this media attention is that every time another celebrity adopts, the conversation about adoption becomes that much more mainstream, the act of adoption becomes that much more accepted, and our child will be able to have one more person to look at and say to herself, I’m not the only one.

I’ve been reading a lot of blogs by adult international adoptees lately. And it’s opened my eyes in a lot of ways. About little things – the cooption of the red thread myth for instance, the way seemingly innocent things like the ladybug symbolism and the Chinese sonogram shirts could be considered insensitive. But also? Some big stuff has come up for me. I have had to re-examine why we have chosen an international, transracial adoption. I have had to reconsider my own inherent racism (and yeah, I’m one of those people who feels that being Caucasian in the USA means that, well meaning or not, you’ve got some racist parts of yourself to confront and deal with. That unlearning racism is a life long journey). I’ve been thinking long and hard about what the consequences of our decision could be. I’ve had to think about this adoption in terms of the bigger picture – not just how it will be for our little family – but whether we’re doing the right thing on a societal level.

And even after all that soul searching? We’re still adopting. We still feel like it’s a good thing for us – for the daughter who will come to us – for our family as a whole. That decision hasn’t been shaken. So we’re going forward – rounding up the last of our paperwork, getting everything checked and rechecked, anxiously awaiting our log in date in China – thinking about names, and how we’ll decorate her room, hitting up my friends with daughters who might want to pass down some cute clothes. I’m not going to even try to pretend that I haven’t been window-shopping at Baby Gap. I bought a tiny pair of white antique gloves embroidered with little pink, purple and blue flowers for dress up. I bought a stencil of a swallow so we can paint birds in flight on her bedroom walls. We are preparing for her in all the usual, material ways.

But I hope that we are preparing for her in other ways, too. I think that the fact that I think so often of her birthmother – my counterpart across the world – about what she must be feeling and going through – about the possible circumstances that will lead her to let her child go – is a way of preparing. Trying to make this woman real in my mind – trying to acknowledge her pain and her sacrifice – thinking about the loss that is inherent in this process, no matter how happy I will be to have this baby in my arms – I think that’s important. I think that considering what it will be like for our daughter to be in a multi-racial family is important. Thinking about how we will talk to our daughter about adoption – what language we will use, how we will try to be as honest as possible about where she has come from and what we know – that’s important, too. Reading and talking and gathering as much information about all this as we can – that’s another way of feathering the nest.

I haven’t ever written about our exact reasons for this adoption – why we chose an interracial adoption. Why we chose China. And I’m not sure that I want to. I’m not sure that I want to write what might be construed as justifications for something that is this intensely personal and real to our family. I feel like I can talk about some of this on a big level – but that really? This will soon be our daughter’s story to tell and I should leave it up to her to let her voice be heard if she wants it that way.

But know that we are still moving forward. That we are still committed and excited and thinking fondly about the day that our life will collide with hers. And know that I wish Madonna, and Angelina and Brad, and Ewan and his family, and Meg, too – and all the adoptive families and adoptees - the best in all of this. I learned some things the first time around with Spike – things that I’m sure are universal, no matter how your child comes to you - I learned, that, as parents, we can only take it one step at a time, with the best of intentions, with love and knowledge, and a willingness to surrender to the moment, and with joy in our hearts.