You’re always so astute. In your last e-mail you asked if I was worried about something. You know me. I can always worry. And I worry best and deepest about Haley. She’s just a couple of weeks away from starting kindergarten. She already recognizes her letters, can read a few words, and knows how to write her name. I feel really good about all that. Her November birthday meant she couldn’t start kindergarten until she was two months away from turning six, so she’ll be on the older side. Dan says it’s for the best. He’s concerned about her size, since she’s so tiny. Dr. Katz doubts she’s small from all the medical setbacks she had starting out. He thinks maybe her parents were small. But we’ll never know for sure, will we?
But here’s what I’m anxious about. Haley doesn’t look like other Chinese kids. We’ve been in FCC for four years now, so we have the other adoptees to compare her to. And the way things are changing in the San Gabriel Valley? We see lots of Chinese children, and Haley doesn’t look like any of them either. She’s darker for one thing, her nose isn’t as flat as theirs, and her eyes are shaped more like leaves than almonds. We went out for dim sum last weekend, and a Chinese woman walked up to Haley and asked, “Where did you come from? Mongolia?” The comment went over Haley’s head, thank God. I know what it’s like to be teased in school, and I’m scared Haley will get picked on for her size and how she looks—not only by whites (although everyone says she’s adorable), but by the Chinese kids in her class who’ll notice she’s different than they are.
Advice please!
Constance
* * *
November 19, 2002
Hi, Mom,
Did you and Dad have a nice Thanksgiving? I wish you could have come out and celebrated with us. Dan took us to the Raymond Restaurant. Haley chitter-chattered the whole time. She’s so talkative!
It’s hard to believe she’s already in first grade. I had thought she was advanced, but she wasn’t nearly as prepared as the other Chinese kids. Haley and I have spent the weekends and vacations working to catch up. I can’t say this to anyone else, but I can brag about your granddaughter to you. Now she’s the best at math in her class! Want to know what her teacher said to me the other day? “She might even outdo you one day, Mrs. Davis, and win a Nobel Prize.” Wouldn’t that be a kick?
I almost forgot to mention how well Haley’s doing with her violin lessons. Thank you so much for suggesting the idea. Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember that just because Dan and I aren’t musical doesn’t mean Haley wouldn’t be either. Who knows? Instead of a Nobel Prize, maybe she’ll become the next Sarah Chang.
Constance
* * *
October 12, 2003
Oh, Mom,
The saddest thing has happened. I’ll call later, but if I write this out maybe it will help me get a better handle on the situation. Remember when I told you that all the kids in Mrs. Johnson’s second-grade class had to do a cross-disciplinary “roots” project, combining history, art, and geography? Dan and I spoke a lot with Haley about it. We showed her how far back she could go on both sides of her family. I didn’t think a single kid in her class had family here in colonial, Revolutionary, or Civil War times. (I was right.) Dan and I didn’t know which side she was going to choose—his family or ours. It was going to be a big surprise.
Today the class gave their presentation at the school assembly. Parents were snapping photos and shooting video when their kids got up to give their presentations. And really, the children are smart, and their families are interesting too. Anyway, the assembly sped along, because the teacher’s aide held up the object each kid made to represent something the first immigrant in his family brought with him to this country, while the kid read two or three sentences from one side of a large piece of paper. The side facing the audience showed a map with an arrow pointing to the country of origin.
Finally it was Haley’s turn. The aide lifted above her head a drawing of the tea cake that came with Haley. Here’s what she wrote: I am the first person in my family to come here. I came from China. I brought a tea cake with me.
It was such a heartbreaking thing to hear. I love her so much, but will she never see herself as part of our family? We’ve tried to keep her connected to her Chinese background and we’ve always felt really good about that, but what if, instead of building her Chinese identity, it’s only served to make her feel separate from us and not 100 percent our daughter? I had to fight to keep myself from crying in front of everyone. Dan and I knew we had to talk to Haley. All the experts say to keep it simple, but honestly, Mom, I think we really messed up.
We divided the conversation into two parts. First, what we thought would be easy—the tea cake. We’ve never hidden it from her. In fact, we encouraged her to keep it in the bottom drawer of her dresser. Some mornings I find it in her bed, which means she’s gotten up in the middle of the night to pull it out and sleep with it. Well, not sleep. I always joke with Dan that Haley must still be on China time. The point is, she’s up at night looking at it. I’ve even seen her trace the characters and decorations on the wrapper with her finger. You remember what it looks like, don’t you? There are V’s like cartoon birds, those repeating lines like S’s, another stroke that meanders uninterrupted all over the place, and that thing that looks like a fork drawn in the center. More than once, Haley’s said to me, “The squiggly lines have to mean something, but what?” Dan and I tried to find out when we first got her, but no one could tell us. Tonight, it was hard because Haley kept repeating, “My mother is sending me a message.” My mother? I’m her mother. Oh, Mom, it hurt so much, but I ache even more for Haley. I mean, what if I didn’t have you in my life? You made me the woman, wife, and mother I am. Haley has Dan and me, but knowing your mother—your parents—gave you away must be . . . what? A heavy burden? A hole in the heart that can’t be filled? A universe of unknowns? I can’t stop weeping at the sorrow of it, but in the moment I just kept repeating how much I love her.
The second part of our discussion went even worse. No matter how many times we said that we were a family and that she was our daughter, Haley came back with “But I am the first person in my family to come here.” Her logic is correct, and I’m proud of her for that. But her insistence really stung and she must have seen something in my face even though I was trying as hard as I could to be supportive and loving, because she asked, “Are you going to send me back?” It was a crushingly sad thing to hear. We spent the rest of the evening trying to convince her that we’d never send her back. How many times can we say “You’re our daughter. We’re a family” before she believes it? Not enough apparently, because last night she just kept sinking deeper and deeper into her chair. She must feel like she let us down, but how could she ever think we’d send her back? What more can we do to make her understand how much we love her? That she is and always will be a part of our family? That she is what makes us a family?
I’ve gone on too long. Maybe I should have called, after all. Let’s talk when you get home. Hearing your voice . . . I need to be strong for my daughter as you’ve always been strong for me.
Constance
* * *
November 1, 2004