A Window from within Part 2

This follow up post has arisen out of a number of questions that came from the other post A Window from Within - part 1 you can find in the older posts, it was posted online on the 15th February this year, 2008.

Firstly, the comment has been made in praise about my adopted Mother Grace. She IS an amazing woman. I never at any time felt from her that I wasn’t the very person she wanted as her son. She made me feel special and the fact that she was courageous to tell me from a young age that I was adopted suggests to me now, that she was very aware of my natural curiosity and inquisitiveness, that would have ferreted out such information sooner or later. I am glad that I knew at an early age. If I had have discovered it later in life, I think it would really have affected me more adversely than what it did. I have a friend who is adopted who has always wondered why? They don’t know who their parents are and it is a topic that is rarely raised but lies in a very close place just below the topic of most conversations. It is hard for them and for anyone who hasn’t had their questions answered to their satisfaction.

My older Brother John who was adopted also appears to have “battled” with the adoption over his life with much more difficulty than I seem to have had. He has lived in and around the family in New Zealand for more years than I have as well. He became aware of his adoption many years ago and has related some of his experiences privately. One of my other brothers Richard said, that when he was a big rig truck driver in the South Island of New Zealand, on a number of occasions the plant operators would say to him after a drop off at the depot, “I just said goodbye to you, What are you doing back here again?” After a number of times hearing this, it frustrated Richard to the point when he was in a position one day to actually meet John and realised there was much more of a connection than a mistaken comment by the foreman. Apparently they looked very much alike. My observation is again, the fact that because Mother Vera never said much to people about how the family should relate to the others who were adopted or to those who remained, there arose a great deal of undue angst that could have all been averted. But Vera, like all of us endeavour to do, did the best she knew how.

John seems to be OK with the adoption, but I sense within John there is still a yearning. When I last saw him he was talking to me about adoption generally and came out with a line that said; “I guess it’s hard for you to understand how I feel” and before he could continue I just stared at him and he laughed, put his arm around me and said “yep you do understand you bugger!” As much as I might try however, though I walked on the roads to understanding and peace myself, no matter how well intentioned and how desirous I am to take their anguish away, I cannot. I am here to help them if thy wish, but they can only come to that place themselves.

Kayleena is in a similar place. She knows her birth Mother Shona, and is at peace with that…I think. Though the other questions she has are often viewed from the person she is now, and not within the scope of the time or the influences that existed for Shona’s decision to adopt in the first place. Kayleena and I have shared some good times and discussions of late, and I am so very proud of her. She is a fighter and a survivor just like her birth Mother, whom I respect greatly and admire. Both Shona and Mum Grace have walked on roads I can scarcely understand and I love them both dearly, they have a strength that is inspiring.

My brother Lewis has been involved in adoptions professionally as an adoption officer for a number of years and he asked me after reading part 1, what I thought about the fact that in his experience he observes that the same questions adopted people have or may ask, also sometimes exist in a biologically same, nuclear family. He asked me what makes it different with people who are adopted?

A tough question I submit. I have little experience with this, yet from the couple of people I do know who fit the category and who have asked questions about why they fit into a nuclear family, when they do seem the odd ones out. I say odd, in a respectful and kind way. I expect that from my observation at least, the people who ask similar questions in a nuclear family are not anguished by the thoughts of WHO they are, in relation to their parentage or as to their lineage or heritage. That part is understood. The anguish they feel arises from why they think and feel so differently and independently from their siblings and parents. They still ask questions about who they are, and how they fit in, and they are equally as important. But they are diffused somewhat by knowing they have a place to belong. Even if they don’t feel they do belong. I hope my thoughts are clear to understand.

I even know of a situation where a family exists where there are three sons born to the same set of parents, or so it is thought, yet one son looks so completely different in features, in physique and in mannerisms to the other two. I have had a couple of discussions with an aunty of the boys who has said they have doubts about the parentage of the “odd” son out. I asked; “so how does that make you feel” They answered simply, “it saddens me, BUT”, (emphatically said) “now that son is a part of my life I cannot and will not ever accept that the child is not part of us”. A lovely sentiment. That child will always have a place they can call home. Though I suspect one day questions will be asked by the child and answers will be sought and demanded.

I don’t know if I answer my Brother Lewis’ question at all in a satisfactory manner, but I have answered it the only way I can from the limited experience I have in this area.

After a tangent style path of miscommunication and poor understanding, my mum Grace was aware that in part 1, I mentioned about her daughter Annette. Mum was a bit perturbed that I mentioned it for the “world” to see. She thought I had been a little harsh than I had actually been. She thought I had said the words my Mother had an illegitimate child on line, and whilst I did, I did not use those words. A moot point I accept. But Mum did not read it fully, and like Annette, had formed conclusions about what I said, and what I meant without actually reading it fully.

I spoke with Mum about the post and after a period of time she was at peace with what I wrote. I doubt she will read it again, but I accept and understand that. I only wanted to let her know that I wrote that out of a commentary and that it is a matter of our family historical record, warts and all, but it was loaded with respect and admiration for her. A point she seemed to accept. My Mum is heavily involved in church and has a position of responsibility that assists a number of women in the largest, yet little known, women’s organization in the world, called the Relief Society. I was concerned whether she was worried what other people think or about whether she was embarrassed, she said she didn’t mind at all what I had said. She was only concerned as to whether it had been said harshly or without the deference such a topic deserves. After my reassurances she did say that she marvelled that I had such a forum to express my thoughts and feelings in and said it with a big smile. I wasn’t totally sure the smile was complimentary at the time, I think she added she was proud. I hope so. I love her.

It is interesting to me as both the writer on this blog and an observer, how many people “think” they know what I am talking about, or “think” they know what I am feeling without investing the energy to actually read the posts in their entirety.

Skimming never satisfies.

It only creates a misunderstanding. I have a work colleague that within a couple of sentences of an explanation from me says "yeah I know what you mean, or I know what you want to say". On a recent occasion I stopped and said to him, "gee that is great, now explain it back to me because I am confused" he started to mutter something that was totally opposed to what I was actually saying or thinking and then came the home run when I said, "Do you realise NOW what I am saying", to which he said "OH, OK I thought you meant"....and then went on to justify his position or stance. I respect that, but am sad that sometimes things go on so long, and umbrage is taken over things that are so often avoidable if we, and I include myself in this, only listen. Not just with our ears, but also with our hearts.

Another brother of mine Bruce said to me recently, “Craig, I don’t read your blog all the time, I only do so when you invite me to, and the reader cannot be left in any doubt about how you feel about the topics you write about.” I said “is that bad?” He answered “No, not at all”. I know that the topics I write about are not always pleasing to the reader, I know from experience there are some who object to me and my point of view, and that is healthy, and I welcome that, if their objections are said with respect.

It has been noted to me on several occasions, that apart from my big lips, there are few features that I have that indicate I am Polynesian, let alone Maori. I accept my skin is whiter than I would like. I always wanted to be brown – all the girls I grew up with liked the brown skinned Maori boys and I was left right out of that game on more occasions than I could count. Notwithstanding that though, we have Maori blood in our veins together with Anglo saxon blood as my birth Father Maurice was from an anglo background that came from Ireland and England a couple of generations ago as I understand it. I have only pieced this information together from sister Maree and some others, so if my recollections on Maurices geneology are flawed I apologise. I am not offended by that observation, I am proud of the mixed heritage and the richness that provides me. I do not know exactly how much Maori I have in me, but suffice it to say that whatever percentage, it is there. As I understand it also, there are no more full blooded Maori’s left alive. I am always curious that some people I know claim they are 90% Maori, and others try to give me how close to full blood they are, but in the end, it is a rich heritage. I do not subscribe to the I am more than you, I am from Maori royalty, or I come from a long line of great warriors, all of which may be true. It is that the people who earn my respect and honour are mostly those who don't make a big deal out of what they have or who they are.

For those who have persevered through this long post I want you to be aware that I am actually reading and responding to questions that are posed to me that opened the original post in part 1 in the first place, and am creating this part 2 with the follow up questions, which I have invited to be asked. I am trying to make the answers flow, even to those who cannot see the questions I am being asked. I hope it flows.

In light of my adoption and now having Denzel, the little man, I was asked how it has shaped my own ways of parenting. Well, I love Denzel with my whole soul. I never ever thought I could love someone as much as I love him. When he hugs me it encapsulates every good thing in the world, I am proud to be his Dad. Like the creator of Stax records said about colour with the artists who came to record at his studio, I do not see a disability. I see a young boy who knows what he wants and feels loved enough to feel confident to express himself. Denzel's timing on a number of things isn’t always pleasing or appropriate, but then he is MY son!!! I love the simplicity and honesty that Denzel has. Like when we were waiting to go into a wiggles show he says “Dad, I fart!” and as I have just been reminded, he will even add in the "Oh NO!" after it. I have to laugh. He is honest. He may not always be able to express himself clearly, but he has no guile which is in itself a rare and precious jewel.

As for parenting, lets face it I cannot claim any credit for that. I certainly help, but his Mother deserves all the kudos. We occasionally clash over particular ways of doing things and whilst there are times that I do not always agree with how she does what she does, I rarely disagree with the why she does that. Marcelina has Denzel’s long term growth and growing independence very much at the forefront of her mind. That said, being the parent of a special needs child requires extra special needs from the parents and carers. I must admit I don’t always have the patience she does with the little man, but the patience is shown. It is also very enervating.

I try and succeed in never hitting or smacking Denzel though my voice and tone will easily reflect whether I am annoyed or disapproving. I used to be hit as a child and sometimes harshly I felt, and I promised I would not do that to my son and am proud to say that I do not hit Denzel. Though there are times when I think he needs it, we try with patience and long suffering to get the point across. If you get very angry with Denzel he gets more and more defiant, and when in the height of his times of being difficult, you tell him how much you love him he breaks down and cries. He truly responds to love. Once the time of difficulty is passed he puts his arms around your neck and pats you gently on the back and says through his tears, “it’s OK, It’s OK”. Then after that he will take a deep breath and say, “There!”

I am so grateful that God gave me Denzel. I have become so much a better and more tolerant person because of him. I actually like myself now and I attribute that largely to the spirit this young man has and the kindness he is imbued with. It’s hard not to love him. We still have a lot of challenges that people do not know, like he still wears nappies (diapers for the American readers) at 12 years old. He has an idea what the toilet is for, and will go on the odd occasion but nappy’s are still essential in the house as well as School. I will be grateful financially when he gets out of them which we are hoping will be soon, fingers crossed this year. Do you know how big and how expensive they are for 12 year olds? You can only buy them in bulk and they are expensive! He is not the only child in his school class that has issues, and I pay homage and honour to his teachers, this year and the previous years who have taken care of Denzel and love him. It is a thankless task at times, but these people are angels who help my baby boy deal with the day to day and teach them life skills. I will be forever grateful for the large network of people who are there for Denzel. I am even grateful for the Government who provide a Bus service that picks my boy up for, and returns my boy home from, school. I am grateful for the funding that pays for the amenities the school has for special needs kids. I am the recipient of a great many blessings and care from many different directions.

Sorry for the long post but I felt it was important to answer the questions in a complete way. and was too wordy for the comments section.

The pictures above are my Family, Brothers and Sisters, then my Nieces and Nephews, and a sunset on the beach in Fiji - I could imagine being there again right about now with a pure fruit mocktail and feet up, hmmm yes please!