Christine's blogs

An Adoptive Mom's Message to Healthcare and Education Professionals

My heart was in my throat one morning as I watched my ten-year-old son walk the fifty feet to the bus stop alone. He’d been asking since school started, and I’d been stalling. As he reached the intersection where our quiet dead-end street meets a busy road, my mind spun with "what-ifs": a trip into traffic, a stranger in a car, horsing around causing an injury. I had to fight the physical urge to pad up the hill in my slippers to see him off safely.

I often wondered if I was overprotective because I fought so hard to bring him home from Vietnam—because I waited what seemed an eternity to become a mother. My concerns were constant for years, and frankly, doctors and educators often seemed to exacerbate them.

The Medical Gap: More Than Just a Form

I took my children to the same medical group for years. Yet, at every annual check-up, I’ve been asked about their family history. For years, I gave the same "I don’t know" in front of my kids. I found myself wondering why they couldn’t simply make a permanent note in the file to stop asking a question that has no answer. And, to quit making my children feel uncomfortable.

I wish I had that information. It would have been invaluable to know if there is a predisposition for alcoholism or psychiatric illness so we could prepare our children from a young age. Because of these genetic "unknowns," I monitored my children’s health and behavior with a level of scrutiny that some professionals might have mistook for hovering.

Furthermore, medical standards often fail to account for ethnicity. I know an adoptive mother who was put through the agony of multiple brain scans for her infant, only to be told his head was "small"—when in reality, it was perfectly normal for a child of Asian descent. My own son’s head circumference didn't even register on standard American charts for years.

The Educational Barrier: A Need for Partnership

My frustration extended to the education system. I am a writer who works from home, yet I’ve been told I couldn’t "drop in" to see how my children were doing because it would be "unfair" to parents who work traditional day jobs. This denied me insight into my child’s academic social and emotional world.

When I committed my life to my children, I made a promise to an entire country—and to God—that I would do everything possible to care for them. As a Christian, I take seriously the responsibility to "raise them in the way they should go." To do that, I must understand their strengths, weaknesses, and sensitivities.

The "Uphill Climb" of the Adoptive Parent

How can doctors and teachers be expected to know the "uphill climb" we traveled to become parents? They didn't see the home inspections, the fingerprinting, the HIV tests, or the invasive questions about our marital history. They weren't there when the Vietnamese government delayed our son’s release after 9/11, or when I had to overcome a paralyzing fear of flying to reach a child who was sick and nearly dying.

We are the adoptive parents who never want a biological parent to imagine their child wanting for anything.

A Plea for Grace and Understanding

You deserve grace for what you don't know, but we ask for a little "slack" in return.

To doctors: Please update your charts so we aren't forced to admit a lack of medical history every single year. Recognize that our "over-concern" comes from a place of managing a genetic mystery.

To educators: Understand that we need more than a quarterly report card. We need a steady flow of communication. Our children may face unique social challenges or questions about their identity that require us to work as a team.

Some of our children were found alone in the world, undernourished and staring at bare walls. We vowed they would never experience lack again. If we seem like a "mother bear" defending her cub, it’s because we remember the silence they came from. It isn't just "over-parenting"—it is the heart of an adoptive parent fulfilling a promise.