Born without hands, Annie has learned to write with a pencil wedged between her arms. As the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reports, Annie’s parents — Tom and Mary Ellen Clark — says this is also how their 7-year-old daughter feeds and dresses herself, cuts with scissors and even paints her toenails.

“Annie has always been very, very determined, very self-sufficient in dressing herself and feeding herself,” Mr. Clark told a Post-Gazette reporter. “She can ride a bike. She swims. She is just determined that there’s nothing she can’t do.”

Adopted from China in 2007, Annie is one of nine siblings in her family — six of whom her parents adopted through Holt. In addition to Annie, the Clarks adopted sons Travis and Talbot, 10, and Tyler, 18, all of whom are missing parts of their right forearm. They also have two other adopted daughters, Alyssa, 18, who also has Down syndrome, and Amelia, 4, who has an undiagnosed lesion on her leg. The Clarks have three biological children as well — Amanda, 29, Amy, 25 and Abbey, 21. Abbey was born with Down syndrome.

On Monday, the whole family will travel to Texas to appear on the Glenn Beck show!

For her great achievement, Annie received a trophy “nearly half her height,” $1,000 and prizes awarded during a surprise assembly at her school. Congratulations Annie!

To read the full article about Annie in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, click here.

by Mishelle Rudzinski, MA CCC-SLP and co-founder of SPOON Foundation

Mishelle Rudzinski with Bakha and Cindy Kaplan with Jadyn.

Cindy Kaplan and I met in 2006, while both in process to adopt our first child from Kazakhstan. Although both looking to start a family, we never thought that these adoptions would also inspire the beginning of a groundbreaking nonprofit organization.

When Cindy and her husband, Tony, brought home their son, Jadyn, he was declared to be suffering from “failure to thrive” — an imprecise medical term used when a child’s weight or weight gain is “significantly” below that of children of the same gender and age.

At 8 months old, Jadyn weighed just 11 pounds and did not have the strength to lift his head.

Cindy took Jadyn to nutritionists and feeding experts who did not have experience with adoption, and she quickly became frustrated.  The standard approach for helping a malnourished infant is to feed a high-calorie formula, and continue it past the typical cut-off age of one year, if necessary. But Jadyn rejected bottle-feeding and most liquids. So, Kaplan turned to books and online adoption chat rooms and trained herself in the techniques and diet tricks that would nourish Jadyn beyond the danger zone.

My daughter, Bakha, was 5 years old when she came home. At the time, she was so severely handicapped by an undiagnosed — and fully preventable — case of rickets and anemia that the adoption agency made me sign papers stating I understood that Bakha might not live to age 18.  She barely walked and was the size of a small 2-year-old.

Within days of the adoption, Bakha was diagnosed with rickets and given high doses of Vitamin D.  Within weeks, she started walking and then running.

She grew eight inches in the first year home.

Although her nutritional status started to improve, she struggled mightily with adapting to her new diet of unfamiliar flavors and textures. A speech-language pathologist by training, I knew how to work with kids with feeding difficulties, but Bakha gave me a run for my money and challenged me to learn even more about the difficulties that previously under-nourished kids face.

As our kids began to heal, Cindy and I couldn’t help but think “what if,” and felt an intense responsibility to the children left behind. We sought ways to volunteer but couldn’t find any organizations working to systematically change the rampant problem of malnutrition in orphanages — in Kazakhstan or anywhere else in the world.

In 2007, a year after our families were formed through adoption, Cindy and I created SPOON Foundation, a nonprofit organization that works to improve the way orphaned, fostered and adopted children around the globe are being nourished.

Improving Nutrition, Influencing Policy

A photo from Bakha's first week home.

SPOON Foundation has three main goals: to provide orphans and adoptees with the nutrition they need to grow and thrive; to encourage and advocate for research in this little-studied field; and to influence nutrition policies and procedures for institutionalized children around the globe.

Since its inception, SPOON has collaborated with a renowned team of experts in international development, neonatology, nutrition, and feeding.  In 2009, SPOON launched its pilot program in Kazakhstan, home to more than 46,000 children living without families to call their own. Analysis showed that the diet of children in Kazakhastan’s “baby houses” – or orphanages – lacked sufficient protein, fats, vitamins and minerals. As a result, a substantial number of these children were stunted or wasting.

In response to SPOON’s efforts, the Deputy Minister of Health in Kazakhstan has proposed a new decree to Parliament based on SPOON’s recommendations, which will establish a new menu—and for the first time ever—national nutrition norms for the country’s baby houses. Soon, baby house directors and cooks will be trained by local staff to implement the new diet and best nutrition practices correctly and consistently.

The program continues to grow.  SPOON recently expanded its work to include China, Mexico, and Vietnam.

SPOON’s goal in China is to learn about the feeding and nutrition needs of children in the child welfare institutes. Working with in-country partners, we are developing a series of culturally-sensitive tools to support caregivers in meeting the most critical feeding and nutrition needs of these young orphaned children. The resulting training tools will be distributed through a new global website that SPOON has been tasked to create, as well as through in-person trainings throughout the country.

And here at home, SPOON is continually enhancing its resources for adopted and foster families, including a one-of-a-kind website.

Resources for Families

Now all of the tips and tricks that Cindy and I had to figure out the hard way are available at www.adoptionnutrition.org and in a new educational brochure, Nutrition Starter Guide for Adoptive and Foster Families, (which can be downloaded or ordered online) created by SPOON and its partner, Joint Council on International Children’s Services.

These resources were created to help adoptive and foster parents and professionals identify, understand and meet the nutritional needs of their kids — which new research shows often worsen during the first several months post-adoption.

While some adopted children come home in bodies that are clearly aching for food, others may appear well-nourished but are similarly suffering from nutrient deficiencies.  A lack of vitamins and minerals may not impact a child’s outer appearance but can have a significant impact on brain development and long-term cognitive functioning.

Due to multiple risk factors, such as a lack of early breast feeding, improper use of formula, and a nutrient-poor diet—potentially combined with stress, illness, and parasites—adopted kids are at a higher risk for malnutrition than are many children.  In addition to stunting (very low height for age) and wasting (low weight for height), adopted kids may be deficient in key micronutrients, such as iron, folate, vitamin D and zinc, among others.

AdoptionNutrition.org has a printable PDF of nutrition lab tests that should be completed at the first doctor’s visit post-adoption and another printable PDF for tests that should be repeated at six months to ensure that growth spurts post-adoption have not caused further nutrient depletion.

Once children come home, parents work hard to help them adapt to their new lives, including a new diet and way of eating.  However, it is also important to understand potential nutritional issues and previous eating practices that are common in the child’s country of origin. For example, many kids from China reject formula that is anything but hot. Kids from Ethiopia tend to like spicy food, especially if it is made with familiar spices that may be harder to find here.

Many families choose to cook foods from their child’s native culture, especially on special occasions, such as country-specific holidays or Adoption Days. The “Nutrition Basics by Country” section of www.adoptionnutrition.org provides information about some of the countries from which children are adopted, including tips for transitioning children to the diets of their new homes and child-friendly recipes from around the world (see below).

My daughter, Bakha, is now 11 years old.  She is healthy and active.  Her favorite way to spend her time is riding horses, but a close second is preparing to be a big sister.  In preparation for her new 3-year-old sister from China, Bakha has already made a blanket, cleaned the bedroom they will share, and painted pictures to hang in the playroom.  More importantly, she loves to educate others about how her little sister might react to her new life, including the difficulty she may have adapting to her new diet.  Bakha helped me pick out a variety of foods that might be familiar to her sister at the local Asian market and she likes to remind me that her sister may need extra time and patience at mealtimes.

I like to think that everything I have learned through the work that Cindy and I have done with SPOON has given me the tools to help my new daughter.  Equally important, I like to think that many other families and the professionals working with them now have the tools they need to help adopted children become healthy and stay well-nourished.

The following recipes are provided by the SPOON Foundation. To find more recipes specific to your child’s birth country, visit www.adoptionnutrition.org.

Congee

A popular breakfast food in China, congee is similar to a porridge. Fish, chicken, shrimp, meat, peanuts, sesame seeds, and eggs can be added to create an even heartier porridge. Congee is considered to be a restorative, easily digestible and nourishing to infants. This easy congee recipe is made in the slow cooker and can be prepared for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

• 5 cups water (chicken, beef, or fish stock)
• 1 cup grain (short-grain brown rice, millet, oatmeal, quinoa, 12-grain meal, etc)
• optional spices (cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, ginger)

To Prepare: Combine all ingredients in a slow cooker, and cook on low heat for 6-8 hours. Serve with a little honey* or maple syrup and any variety of fruit (apples, banana, blueberries, mango, raspberries, blackberries, etc).

Try using different condiments such as egg and seafood for a savory congee.

Optional condiments: raisins, dried plums, fish, meat, poultry, fried egg, seafood, fresh fruit

Tip: Store extra congee in 6 ounce mason jars or baby food jars and keep in the refrigerator for up to two weeks.

*Do not give honey to children under 1 year of age.

Timatim Firfir

Dressing:

• 1/4 cup canola oil
• 3 tablespoons vinegar (red or white, use what you have!)
• Juice of one lemon
• 1-2 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 teaspoons berbere

Salad:

• 3-4 large tomatoes
• 1/2 – 1 onion, finely chopped
• 1-2 jalepeno peppers, chopped and de-seeded
• 2 pieces injera, torn into bite sizes

Whisk together the ingredients for the dressing and pour over the chopped vegetables and injera. Serve chilled.

by Lindsay Evers Carroll Babcock

I still remember the drive to Des Moines, IA to pick up my new baby brother, a 13-month-old from Korea who I had never met, but longed to hold for the first time. Or when I looked at the picture of a little girl — my sister — and wondered how much longer we would have to wait for her! I remember knowing right away that these children belonged with us, and that I was blessed to call them my family.

Zion (far left) with Uncle Mathew and Aunt Taylor. Zion's prayers at night help Holt's waiting children find families of their own! Thank you to Zion and her family for their prayers and support!

In March 2011, my husband and I decided to pursue two beautiful babies we had seen on Holt’s waiting child photolisting. As a family, we prayed constantly for them! We put their picture on our refrigerator and their beautiful faces even graced the screens of our computers. We petitioned God on their behalf that they would find their forever families, be it us or not. So when we got the news that we were not the family chosen for them, heartbreak would stand to reason. However, that was not what we felt. We felt joy that God had answered our prayers and that their heartbreak would soon end through the love of a family they could call their own! We still felt like God had given us that experience for a reason, and we knew that the love we felt for them was not in vain or without merit. We then considered another child on the photolisting, and started praying for him. Shortly after, we saw that he too had been adopted.

I thought, “Lord, why are you giving me this love for these children, but they are never meant to be my family?”  Whenever I am going through something hard, all I want is my family to pray for me. I felt like God was saying, “Who will be the family that prays and pleads for these children?” This is what adoption is all about is it not — to love someone despite relation and to long for something better for them? I remember thinking, “We will be that family for these children, Lord!”

We began showing our daughter Zion, who at the time was only 3 years old, the pictures of the children on the photolisting, and telling her about the needs of a child waiting for a family. My husband and I would explain to her that an orphan has no mommy or daddy to hold them and kiss them. We told her how thankful she should be that God had given her a family who loves her so much! We told her that God wants us to pray for those who don’t have that yet.

I remember when I showed her a picture of a child with a cleft palette.  She started to cry because she was afraid his nose was going to fall off. I quickly ran into the bathroom, grabbed a mirror and showed it to her. I asked her if she thought she was beautiful, and she said “yes!” Then I lifted her little lip up to her nose and asked her, “When you look like this, do you still want to love other people and know that they love you too?” She said yes. Then she quickly found a little girl on the list who had no arms. She placed her arms behind her back and looked into the mirror. Then she yelled with excitement “ Momma, I am still Zion, and I am still beautiful inside and out!”

It gave me such joy to see this little girl realize such an important lesson at such a young age. It is just like Grandma Holt said, “Every child is beautiful when they are loved!” Now she really knows that. From that day on, her passion for the children waiting for their families has grown. She started to ask to see the lists at night when we tuck her in and say our prayers. We began to give the kids nicknames so we knew who she wanted to pray for that night. When she asks for, “the little boy who likes to take baths, and says ya ya a lot,” we now know she is asking to pray for “Owie.”

Her dad and I love to hear her say, “Ok, and what can this baby not do?” She never says, “What’s wrong with this baby?” We know that nothing is “wrong” with them! All children have been fearfully and wonderfully made exactly the way God wanted them to be made! We now know many children’s likes, dislikes and special needs, and we go to God every night and ask Him that someone would see how beautiful they really are and make them their family. But until then we will be their “praying family.” Our dream is that one day we will be able to be that family that the banner across a little boy or girls picture refers to, but until that day comes, we know that this is what God has called us to do! Oh, and our daughter’s last request to God is always, “Please give them a family who tucks them in at night too!” Because even she knows that missing out on those little things is what makes their waiting so hard.

November is National Adoption Month! How will you celebrate? Help us change the conversation this November by advocating and praying for Holt’s Waiting Children.

Every week day during November, Holt will feature a special waiting child on Holt’s blog. Repost the child’s story to your friends and family, print prayer cards to guide prayers for the featured children, and download a bulletin insert to share with your church.

Click here to see other ways you can get involved this November!

by Stacee Ballback

Whenever anybody asks me to explain how my last name is Ballback, why I can’t speak a word of Korean, or how I have two very Caucasian parents when I am very clearly Asian, my answer is always the same, “I was adopted.” The keyword here is “was.”

I never realized that I answered their questions in the past tense until I started noticing that other fellow adoptees answered the same questions, “I am adopted.” It made me realize that being adopted never felt like a state of being for me or like an all-encompassing aspect of my life. Instead, it felt like a single moment early in my life with a definite starting and ending point that happened and then was over. I don’t think that being an adopted child is so easy for everyone; I think some people are forever haunted by their adoption and it stays with them as a reminder throughout their lives that they were unwanted and unloved. I don’t see myself as unloved because I was given up; I see it as an ultimate act of sacrifice and love on my birth mother’s behalf because she wanted a better life for me then she could have provided me with.

A lot of people ask me how old I was and how I felt when my parents first told me that I was adopted, and in all honesty, I can’t remember where, when, what or how they told me. I think part of this lack of a traumatic “ah-ha” moment is due to the fact that I do not look anything like either of my parents. I think when I was young and before I could really understand adoption, I was searching for ways that my mother and I were alike. I remember walking through a parking lot with her on our usual In-n-Out and grocery shopping Sundays (a tradition I still enjoy to this day) and telling her that we looked alike because we both had dark hair. For me, finding out where I came from was more of a gradual discovery process that my parents eased me into, as opposed to a single shocking moment of realization that some adopted children may experience.

But I really think the main reason for this distress-free process is mostly a testament to the wonderful and natural job my parents did of raising me and communicating with me about where I came from. I never felt like I didn’t belong right where I was, and I hardly felt the need to search for my birth parents because I had already been planted in such a warm and loving family. When I was younger, I think my adoption troubled me. I wanted to know who my birth mother was, and I wanted to know why she had given me up.  As I got older and more capable of comprehending everything, I realized that being adopted was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

I’m not trying to say that being adopted has not impacted me or that it is an insignificant aspect of my life in anyway, I’m only trying to emphasize that I do not see being adopted as who I am, but rather a part of who I am. I am very content and well assimilated into the American ‘cheeseburger and French fries’ way of life I grew up knowing, and I have my family to thank for this. Of course my adoption plays a large role in the person I am today and probably has a more significant role on a subconscious level, but I think that I am just very happy and grateful for the hand that I was dealt and the perfect childhood I was blessed with from my family. I don’t view my adoption as a dark cloud over my life or a taboo topic, because I grew up with parents that talked openly about it with me and constantly told me they were the luckiest parents in the world. In reality though, my brothers and I are the lucky ones, after all we basically won the lottery of life.

***I want to disclose that my mom didn’t ask me to write this. I wrote it because I’ve spent a lot of time at home this summer watching and listening to her passion and enthusiasm for telling our story.

I wrote it for her and my dad because I know how much they treasure my brothers and me. They both do so much for us that I wanted to do something meaningful for them and I know that writing this will mean more than any material gift I could ever give to them.

Visit Jane’s post adoption blog here

by Susan Soonkeum Cox, Vice President of Policy and External Affairs

Saturday, September 22, 2011. Approximately 300 people gathered in Eugene to celebrate the 80th birthday of Dr. David H. Kim. Many of the guests were first generation adoptees coming from around the country. Some call themselves the “first wavers,” indicating they were the first wave of children who came to the U.S. to their adoptive families.

I first met David Kim in Korea when I was 4 years old. He remembers that I was a little girl with a round face, sad eyes and hair that had been dyed coal black to make me look more Korean. My hair was in the process of growing out, and David recalls that the grow-outs “looked like there was a saucer on [my] head.”

I knew David before I knew my mother and father. It was David who helped to fill in the blanks of my history that began in Korea, a history that was unknown to me. When I was growing up, I saw David a number of times, and his warm and generous personality was always a comfort to me.

One of the most important blessings of my years at Holt has been to work with David, a wonderful teacher, mentor and friend. His vision and commitment are contagious, and it’s an honor to follow as he has led through adversity, challenges and victories on behalf of children.

Much of what I believe about adoption and advocacy I learned from David. I’ve listened to him talk with passion about the needs of children and our responsibility to respond – and to respond with urgency. I’ve often heard David say, “If children have to wait until adults and governments agree on what should be done, the children will have white whiskers. They can’t wait.”

David has pioneered motherland tours, heritage camps and the commitment to acknowledge the importance of culture and heritage for adoptees. He was a powerful and forceful advocate during the drafting of the Hague Convention on adoption, teaching that the life-long issues of adoption should be considered a priority.

I am not alone in my regard for David Kim. Over the years, he has personally touched the lives of many of us. For those adoptees who have not had the good fortune to know David personally, you should know that your life has been graced by his life, by his efforts on your behalf. In a small way, we are all a legacy to the devotion and compassion of this extraordinary man.

Happy Birthday, David Kim.

by David VanArsdale

David with his parents, James and Rebekah, and sister, Stephanie

When you’re a traveler, you meet “interesting” people. I put that word in quotes, because if you’ve been backpacking before, you know that “interesting” can mean just about anything.  During my recent journey through Southeast Asia, I would sometimes wonder, “What’s interesting about me?” Compared to some of the characters I met, I didn’t think I was that special.  I met a minimalist traveler; he only owned 40 things and all of them were in his backpack.  I met a celiac traveler; he was on a mission to show how easy it is to travel, even if you’re allergic to wheat. I met a crazy traveler; he had thrown a grenade at a cow in Cambodia.  And then there was plain, old me — “Hi, I’m David and I’m from the U.S.”. Not that cool.  But what I’ve come to realize is that you don’t need to have “a thing.” Traveling is personal.  We all travel for our own reasons, even if we’re not aware of them at the time. And that’s why I’m writing this article — to tell you why this trip was an especially interesting trip for me.  I was adopted from Seoul and this was my first time back in Asia. And that is kind of a big deal.

As a Korean adoptee, there have been times when I didn’t feel like I belonged in America.  This sense of belonging is something I’ve thought about my entire life — as do most adopted children. That said, it would help to cover my background.

In 1985, I was adopted when I was 4 months old by my loving parents. I grew up in a nice suburban town in Hunterdon County, New Jersey. My sister (also a Holt adoptee) and I were a few of the only minorities in town. My grammar school was predominately white. My high school was predominately white. By predominately white, I mean that if someone said, “He’s Asian…”, that was enough to identify me. And yes, I attended Gettysburg College, which is also predominantly white.  Excuse me if I’m making this sound negative, because I don’t mean to. I love my teachers, friends, and family. I love my grammar school, my high school, my college. I was treated like any other person — it made no difference what I looked like and that’s how it should be. But let’s be real, I stood out. Throughout life, I’ve been very conscious of the fact that I was the only Asian person in the entire room. Not uncomfortable, just aware. So this made traveling in Asia a little more “interesting,” because somewhere in me was that little kid who remembered sitting in an all white classroom thinking, “Do I really fit in here?”

In October 2010, I quit my job to pursue my dream of traveling independently and chose Southeast Asia because it’s notoriously backpacker friendly. One of the things I was curious about was how it would feel to be surrounded by people who looked similar to me. It was an experience I had never truly had before.  Looking back, I was naïve in thinking that I would immediately bond with someone simply because I shared some of their physical features.

After an hour on a bus or a train or a boat in Southeast Asia, I would look around — all Asian people. Everyone in their own conversations, in their own worlds. But I didn’t feel any more connected to them than if I were on a bus at home with all white people. Somewhere in my head, I thought that being in an Asian country, surrounded by all of its culture, would make me feel more comfortable — to me, it didn’t.

People would come up to me and start speaking in Thai, Cambodian or Vietnamese, and I would have to politely say that I only spoke English. Situations like these are a little awkward.  One time, I was on a sleeper train in a cabin with three Vietnamese men. Even though they could only speak broken English, we were making decent conversation. I thought I’d try to explain my background and it reminded me how complex adoption can sound: “I was born in Seoul…But I’m from the America…I don’t speak Korean…My parents are white…My sister’s adopted from Korea, too…But no, she’s not my real sister. I mean she’s not my biological sister.” What a mess! They’d just do the patented tourist bale-out — the smile and nod. And I don’t blame them.

What I’m trying to say is that even at 25 years old, being adopted can be confusing. It can still feel like you’re stuck right in the middle. As a child, I certainly didn’t look similar to any of my white friends or family. And during my travels in Asia, I didn’t feel any more connected to people who looked similar to me. Yet, when I fill out any kind of form, I still mark the little checkbox that says “Asian.”

This isn’t one of those articles with a profound, happy ending.  It’s one of those articles with an honest ending — if you’re adopted, you’ll always be learning new things about yourself. Even as an adult, new questions about your background will arise. And that’s what can make your journey especially interesting.