Adoption Means Conceiving A Child In The Heart

Read a cool article in the NY Times today about American families who'd adopted girls from China. It focused mostly on the experiences of these girls, growing up in such a unique environment.

It got me thinking...I've always known that if I didn't get married, I'd adopt from a baby girl from China.

But today, I thought that, even if I married, maybe I'd still want to adopt a child from there, anyways.

I have pretty strong views about adoption --- mainly because I did a feature on the issue when I was in j-school and one of my teachers wound up adopting from China. I've actually talked to people who've adopted internationally and I know this is something I'm very open to.

When I was working at the hospital, one of the social workers and his partner adopted two kids and I remember at his baby shower, I gave him this card that said adoption was when a child grows in a person's heart instead of the stomach. He got all teary-eyed and I remember how much awe and respect I had for the guy.

I remember when the famine in North Korea was featured on the front page of newspapers and I cut out the article 'cause on the front page, there were all these babies --- these gorgeous children slowly starving to death. And it made me feel sick. I still have that newspaper clipping and I still cry whenever I see it.

I've been told more than once that adoption is a bad idea. Well-meaning friends who tell me it's better to get married and have kids of my own. But you know what? As much as I would love having kids of my own and knowing I'd nurtured another being inside of me for nine months, I know I'm capable of loving a child even if she wasn't my own flesh and blood.

What sort of pissed me off was reading another article on the NY Times, just a few days ago, about women who were single by choice --- women in their late thirties and forties who'd given up on trying to find Mr. Right and who were now heading to sperm banks instead. I think about those kids in orphanages and then I think about these women wasting time and money and risking uncertainty over having kids through sperm donors and it just makes me angry.

Yeah. Okay. Adoption's not for everyone. And this is something I choose to rant about a couple of times every year, but I try hard to keep them to myself...especially since I now know more than a few couples who want children but can't have them and aren't open to adoption.

What's The Point?

Sometimes, I wonder what’s the point of saying anything?

Seriously – does anybody ever really want to know what you think? Isn’t it really more of a matter of saying what they want to hear?

The Best Friend says that real friends are open and honest with each other and she chewed me out once for wanting to keep my mouth shut and preferring to hold back what I really think. But my reasoning for this? What’s the point in wasting your breath when the other person refuses to listen? Why say that you value the other person’s opinion if you’re not even going to take anything they say into consideration?

Or maybe I’m just feeling fed up because I’m not in her position, can’t understand her reasoning and I have this stubborn belief that I’m the one who’s right.

But seriously, are any of us ever in any position to judge when we haven’t walked a mile in the other person’s shoes? It’s so easy to tell your Best Friend that you think she’s making a mistake and that she’s holding onto a man who isn’t worth holding onto…but you know what? Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what you think. People will always do what they want to do, even if the whole world’s against them. And I know this, because I’m like that, too --- sometimes.

Who knows? Maybe I just think she should move on because I was forced to. But you know what? Facing the truth often hurts. But in the end, it’s probably better for us if we suck it up, face the pain, and just bloody move on --- because moving forward’s a helluva lot better than standing still, always looking back.

When You Feel Invisible...

From: Anonymous Writer
To: Music Girl
Date: Mar 8, 2006 10:58 AM
Subject: Up and Down Days

Hey Music Girl,
You know what? When I heard Reese Witherspoon utter, “I’m just trying to matter”, it hit me that maybe this is what we’re all ultimately searching for when it comes to love and life. We’re all trying to matter to somebody; to be seen for who we are; and to have someone care enough to want to bear witness to our lives (who knew a J. Lo movie would carry a line that bore such a profound statement?).

Ever read Mitch Albom’s “The Five People You Meet In Heaven”? It wasn’t any great literary masterpiece by any means, but what struck a cord with me was the dedication to his uncle, where Albom writes that there are millions of people like his uncle, who went through life thinking they don’t matter when in reality, every life touches another. It’s sort of like what Einstein said about how we’re here for the sake of others --- sometimes merely by a bond of sympathy that connects us to complete strangers.

And even though I know you’re smart enough to already realize this now, you’re not expendable or invisible. How could someone with such strength of character and diverse interests and passions and genuine compassion ever be invisible?

I don’t know about you, but I guess I tumble into this sense of invisibility --- it used to amaze and startle me when someone would actually remember my name because I felt like I was a ghost or something, drifting through each day unnoticed --- and it would feel like drowning in loneliness. And it’s so easy to forget that you’re not alone when you’re so caught up in the sheer shittiness of how you feel. Sometimes, it seems impossible to break through the surface and just breathe again.

But I get this sense that you’re like me --- you have your bad days, but you fully realize that there are good days, too. And maybe like me, you know when to get up again, brush yourself off, and say, “Fuck this shit” and just move on. You know why you’re able to do it? Because I can tell you’re a much stronger than person than a lot of people out there --- you’re unflinchingly honest with yourself about the shitty things you feel, but you’re unafraid to stand on your own two feet because you know who you are…and that’s more than can be said about a lot of people.

I know what you mean about having good days --- and they aren’t even necessarily days where life-changing events happen, are they? You just wake up one morning and you feel okay --- like maybe you can do this after all --- and I think it’s just life’s way of saying that shit happens, but what’s the point of getting bogged down by it? It’s not always bad.

Ah…the joys of writing in a paper journal. I have a whole chest full of them --- complete with a complex Chinese lock. I’ll take a picture of it and show you. It was a hand-me-down from my grandmother, (the one who died from cancer, not the one who died recently), who used to live with us. There was a huge fight between her and mom and she left to go live with my uncle and his family. The chest sat in my closet for 20 years, locked. Finally, the year that she died, I summoned up enough courage to tell her that all I wanted for my birthday that year was the key to that chest so I could hide my own stuff inside. Opening that chest was exciting. We found all sorts of things inside…including a notebook where she’d scribbled some Chinese names down that she hoped to use for her grandkids. Anyways, now the chest is crammed with diaries…there’s something liberating about writing just for yourself. You’re more honest, I think…and when you look back? It’s kind of amazing to see how you’ve grown and changed.

Don’t know if you read the e-mail I sent The Best Friend that I posted on my journal (with names changed, obviously), but it’s weird. I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud when I was in the car with her. What brought it on was when she told me she’d pass on a trip this summer with me and some friends. She’d debated last Saturday about whether she wanted to go with Won’t-Commit-Ex-Boyfriend to China…so stupid! I was so angry with her. She hasn’t written back. Usually, we just call each other, but lately, with the whole Won’t-Commit-Ex-Boyfriend thing, she prefers to email so she won’t break down in front of anyone, crying.

I wonder if I was too harsh in the email? Or if I just came across as an obnoxious, opinionated bitch?

You know that book I was writing about? “The Year of Yes”? I realized it’s one thing to say, yeah, I’m going to do that, but it’s another waiting around for someone to come along and ask you out.

Anyways…hope today’s another good day for you.
-Anonymous Writer

The Year Of Yes

There was an article about this book in the paper a few weeks back:



Basically, Maria Dhavana Headley said yes to every man who asked her out for one year --- well, within reason. She figured that maybe she was being too critical.

It got me thinking...maybe I should do the same thing starting now. I'll say yes to every man who asks me out. Maybe it's time I stopped being such a snob. And besides, at the very least, I can get a good story out of it, right?

I think the other reason why I decided that this might be a fun and interesting experiment is because, when I was on the phone today with a guy from the Vancouver marketing department, I actually found myself thinking, "Oh my God, he sounds cute."

WTF? I mean, does this not prove that I need to get myself a life if I'm sitting around thinking that a complete stranger sounds sexy?

I guess this also proves that I don't really want to be in a relationship with the guy I've been seeing. I really want us to be "just friends." I wonder how he'll feel about that? Maybe he'll tell me to fuck off for wasting his time.

I'm putting this on hold at the library --- I mean, sure, I could go and buy a copy but I went out and bought a jacket to match the bag that I didn't really need. And as much as it pains me to say this, I think my mother's actually right; I'm in serious danger of becoming a shopaholic and this will soon become my biography:



I swear to God, the white coat was beckoning me from the display window. And as soon as I put it on and together with the salesgirl, admired the way I looked in the mirror, I knew I had to go home with this jacket.

I'd joked about this on the weekend to my friends --- that these purchases seemed to fill an empty place in my heart...the place where Ass Face used to reside. Who knew that Ass Face could be so easily replaced by a bag and a coat?

But you know what? I'm beginning to realize that maybe my spending is getting a little out-of-control and that the temporary thrill that it brings me isn't really enough to mask the sheer horror of opening up my credit card bill at the end of the month.