Make Them Not Look At Me

Part of me wonders if I should write this.

A million things go through my head about why I should or should not share.

But then I think about why I started this blog: to keep my family and friends up to date on what's happening with us AND for those that might be interested in adoption.

You know I am a huge advocate of adoption and transracial adoption. You know that I believe 100% that my God created our family exactly how it is today and it is perfect in His sight. So please don't read this post as I wish things were different or to say I wish we hadn't adopted transracially. I am living my dream.

But today it came with heartache. And I feel the need to put this out there.

One of my lovebugs said something that instantly made me think of Black Baby White Hands and in my heart thank Jaiya John for sharing his insight.

We were at the Dr.'s office waiting to be seen when one kept trying to hide between my legs and said, "Mom, please tell them not to look at me."

This statement has come up a lot in this child's life. As are all my kids, this one is to die for cute. I can't quit staring at them, and so for years I have responded, "Sweetie, you are really cute. They just are looking at how cute you are."

And now I believe that was not the right response. It's fine. But it makes the wound deeper. Like being black and being raised by white parents is something that everyone can understand and has experienced.

Today this went on and on. This pumpkin kept squirming and looking around to what they thought were eyes of children judging them. Then my baby said, "Mom, I wish I was peach. Then they wouldn't look at me."

Oh Lord. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was thankful our name wasn't being called and we could just sit there a moment and be. I kissed those sweet soft brown cheeks and said, "Honey, I am so sorry. Is that why you think they are looking?" I kissed some more and hugged those squishy shoulders. Then I whispered, "Thank you for telling me. I am so sorry sweetie." Their response was, "Make them not look at me".

I told "them" that I couldn't control the little girl, but that we could talk and not pay attention to everyone else. I tried to distract with other things around us, but both of us were heavy with what had been said...what that tiny heart was holding.

As I type this out, the weight of the words and thoughts are streaming down my face. I want nothing more than for my children to feel the intense pride in how God created us, that we are different and that we love it. But I also have to sit still in the moments as my children adjust to that and come to accept it. I need to grieve with them as they feel the glares because we don't match. It's good for me to see that all they understand is that they are constantly being stared at, and what it feels like to them is it's because we don't match.

I think that it's not coincidence that this came just days before we move. It helps ease my sadness over the good-byes. Although our first move will not bring them more faces that resemble theirs, but it will bring fewer stares as we don't stand out as much when we are covered head to toe in snow gear as well as more time alone for the 6 of us.

Our second move is what I praise God for. I can't wait until our kids are the majority. I can't wait to experience what they do all of the time. I know it will be uncomfortable for Blake and I...but it's about time and we look forward to getting a better glimpse into their world.

Thank you Lord for knowing where we needed to be for a year. Thank you for knowing my kids' hearts and that this decision was made to move to Atlanta long before the weight of these words were understood. Thank you Lord for helping me to understand my lil blessings more and not continue to be a part of the hurt with my responses to their discomfort.