Search Results for: a

A mom of an adopted child, on the beach with that adopted child

“Dear Mom of an Adopted Child”

I knew you right away. I recognize the fierce determination. You are the kind of woman who Makes.Things.Happen. After all, you made this happen, this family you have.

Image of one of the adoption memoirs available to read this summer

Summer Reading 2015

Everyone touched by adoption should check out these powerful memoirs, by a birth mother and an adoptee.

Searching for a Birth Parent

“Many Kinds of Love”

Being adopted, I have found, means being familiar with many different kinds of love, many varieties of connection. It’s a roller-coaster of sorts. There’s an immense amount of gratitude; yet an overarching sense of loss persists, and permeates every interaction, every decision, and every relationship.

Film reel for documentaries about adoption

Documentaries About Adoption

These nonfiction films are sure to open up dialogues about the subjects’ experiences and your family’s story long after the last frame.

troubled birth parent

Keeping an Adoption Open Despite Challenges

Five moms candidly reveal how they’re honoring their commitment to openness when their child’s birth parent struggles with substance abuse, mental illness, or is experiencing crisis.

A child presenting one of her adoption-related school assignments

Share Your Story: Tricky School Assignments

We asked our Reader Panel: Have your school-age children been assigned any projects that were difficult for adoptees (timelines, genetics, etc.)? How did you handle the situation?

hair care in transracial adoption

“My Little Man’s Hair”

Sam's hair is close-cut and precisely edged. Looking at it from any angle, you can see that this child's mother knows how to care for his hair. This has not always been the case.

A mother trying out a tae kwon do class, while in the process of adopting a baby girl from Korea

“Why Tae Kwon Do?”

So far, each step I have taken into my future daughter's world has taught me nearly as much about myself as it has about her culture.

conspicuous family

“Being Noticed as a Transracial Family”

For once, the barista at Starbucks didn’t recognize me. He shouldn’t. I’m there only about once a month. The thing is, he remembers me. Well, not me so much as us. This is one of those things that come with being the white mother of a black child. Comments, questions, stares—those I expected. The strange experience of just being visible—not so much. I didn’t realize how invisible I was until I wasn’t anymore.

Top