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“Don’t you ever worry your daughter was stolen like all those Guatemalan babies I heard about on the news?”
It’s not uncommon for me to be stopped in the street by complete strangers who wish to compliment Beauty. Her long, dark hair with an oh-so-slight curl at the ends, her huge brown eyes, her amazing smile—even in my state of motherly bias, she is a beautiful little girl. And once in a while, people openly ask if she is adopted and if so from where; sometimes conversation ensues over Guatemala out of interest, experience, or curiosity. Only twice in the past going-on-two-years have I been asked the following question or some similar version: “Don’t you ever worry your daughter was stolen like all those Guatemalan babies I heard about on the news?”
What to say, what to say…
Let me first say this: I trust the agency we selected to facilitate Beauty’s adoption. I feel we made the most informed decision possible when selecting them as such, but I also recognize that so many other parents—those who were led astray by their agency—felt the same way. I have checked the facts that I’ve been able to check, I’ve looked to see if dates have seemed to line up, I’ve spoken to numerous members of the agency staff at various intervals, always checking to see if the stories were in line. In my attempts to be cautious, I have felt (and do feel) secure that Beauty was given up for adoption voluntarily by her beautiful birth mother, M., for reasons similar to that of many young birth mothers. Do I wonder at night whether something is awry? I’ll be honest: I don’t. But I’m also not naive to the fact that the trafficking nightmares are a reality for so many people—birth mothers, adoptive parents, and most of all, the babies involved in such.
I try to keep an eye on the state of Guatemalan adoptions whenever possible. I try to familiarize myself with current events in Guatemala—those related to adoption and those entirely unrelated to adoption. I feel that people touched by adoption in any and all forms have an almost unspoken bond—a relationship not unlike a kinship of sorts. It’s human nature to sympathize for those who are in an emotionally, physically, and/or psychologically taxing position, but then there are those events you hear of—the ones that grip you to the core of your being–that stop you in your tracks. A fellow adoptive mother and friend linked me to the following site, Three Days for Three Daughters, and I was positively floored. Call it sensory overload, but after I read the site top to bottom, I couldn’t sleep for days. I knew out the gate I was going to participate in the fast, and I knew I would forever feel a bit differently after I put it all in perspective for myself.
So what is Three Days for Three Daughters? In short, it’s an international hunger strike held on September 1, 2, and 3 (the three days stand for each of the three daughters for whom the strike is named). The participants in the strike (those who are electing to fast in some form for three days) are not gathering physically in one spot, but rather documenting their individual strikes through words (and/or photography) provided to the strike founders via email. At the end of the strike, a book will be created using the documentation and passed on to journalists and governmental officials in hope of exposing the issue. (Please note that the fast organizers do not condone unhealthy starvation practices in any way—fasting, as stated on the official site, is at the participant’s discretion. This means a participant can elect to take part in a “traditional” fast, or abstain from, for example, diet coke or television). I will be publicly documenting my personal strike with at least one post per day on my personal blog devoted solely to our Ethiopian adoption. If you are participating, I’d love to hear of your experiences! Please feel free to either comment here or email me at courtneyo@adoptionblogs.com.
