What not to say to adoptive parents

In April 2017, I gave birth to my second child, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed cherub. Unlike my first postpartum experience, this time, breastfeeding went well and while I was exhausted, I was joyful and smitten with our new addition. We thought our family was complete.

Then in early July 2017, I received a phone call from a hospital social worker. A family member’s baby was in the NICU and someone needed to make medical decisions for him. I immediately felt the weight of the situation, I knew this could just be us making medical decisions for a few weeks, or this could be an entirely new future with this child. Both roads began to roll out before me all at once. It was overwhelming. I called my husband, hoping simultaneously that he would agree to become temporary guardians and that he would refuse. How could we possibly do this with a 3-year-old and 3-month-old at home already? Without hesitation, he replied “Well, we already have all the baby things out.” And so our adoption story began.

After spending a month in the NICU with this jet-black haired, jovial baby boy, we brought him home, and we were already in love with him. But we knew this might not be permanent, so we tried to just stay in the moment, knowing each day he needed love and the future was uncertain.

When I would actually make it out the door with two babies in tow, the questions of strangers began, and now six years later, they have not stopped. Most people are not being intentionally rude or offensive, yet they are being intrusive, and I’d like to help provide some guidance and insight into what questions and comments are never appropriate to ask a parent.

Who is their real mom/dad/parent?

We, adoptive parents, are very much real parents. We feed our children, rock them to sleep and console big feelings. We stay up late worrying. Our hearts burst with love and joy for our children. We are real parents. Instead of using a term like “real” parent, you might use a term like “birth parent.” But unless you have gotten a signal that a parent wants to talk about this topic with you, just don’t ask at all. 

Where are they from?

Often, this is a question asked about a trans-racial adoptee, or an adopted child who is of a different race than their adoptive parents. Our son is biracial, and he has brown skin. I’m white. I’ve had random people at Target ask “what country is he from?” This question assumes that non-white skin is not American skin, and that brown skin is “other.” There’s no good way to ask this question. Just don’t ask about it. Period.

That child is so lucky to have you.

This child lost his or her family of origin. Most adoptees say there is inherent trauma in this experience. There is loss and grief in adoption. We are the lucky ones to have these beautiful children in our lives. They are not lucky. That is too simple a statement to have truth in it. Adoption is complicated.

Did his mom give him up for adoption?

The term “giving up” is not one I want our son to ever associate with himself. He was not “given up.” Please do not ever use this term with an adopted child. You can say “placed” in a new home or “placed” for adoption. It is important to let adopted children shape their own story and narrative, and terms like “given up” begin to shape the narrative for them, and that antiquated term builds a shameful narrative for many.

You are such an amazing person/saint/Christian, etc.

We are not saviors. We are regular people. Sometimes, our kids get on our nerves. Sometimes, we yell. We feed them frozen pizza for dinner. We are not extraordinary. Once again, we are the lucky ones, to get to know this child, to get to watch them grow, to get this unique experience that multiplies the love in our home.

As our son has grown older, and we have gained more experience fielding these questions and comments, we have learned one very important lesson: we do not owe anyone answers. We can simply nod and walk away if we’d like to. Or some days, we might have the energy to educate someone. But this is our child’s adoption story, and we will let him shape it and tell it, not strangers, and not even us.