As the parents of four black children, we drop a small fortune on lotion and products and build time into our schedule to style their hair, all the while questioning whether we know what we’re doing. A recent conversation offered some much-needed reassurance.
Have you ever been at a baby shower where they play a home video of the mother-to-be surprising her partner with news of her pregnancy? As we grappled with infertility, my wife and I hated those videos, even as we desperately hoped for one of our own.
With such a spectrum of opinions about adoption, it’s hard to know if we talk about it too much, or not enough, and in the right way. But watching my son navigate adoption comments at school reassured me of his comfort with it.
My wife and I may not match our kids, but we found a group where we all fit in.
When people have kids, they are often hoping their child will be just like them. In our case, we're happy our son has beautiful characteristics that are all his own.
My wife and I were nervous the first Sunday we attended an African-American church. Would they welcome us? Would they stare? We should have had faith.
After years of grappling with infertility, I could only focus on what might go wrong during our (in hindsight) perfect match and my daughter's birth.
After a bump in the relationship with our daughter's birth mother, we're learning lessons about love, patience, and acceptance.
My wife was deluged with questions at a new moms' group, each one more personal than the last.