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In 2003 and 2004, Wolverine and I we were living overseas in Japan.  I am not Japanese, but was mistaken for one all the time.  Because, you know, we all look same.

During our time living abroad, Bito was born.  I had the pleasure of giving birth in a Japanese birthing clinic, which was remains, to this day, one of the most awesome cross-cultural experiences I have ever had.  BabyBito, upon his birth, looked completely Asian, with nary a hint of his Caucasian father.  And during the six days I remained in the birthing center, eight other babies were born–all boys, and all Asian.

There were times, in my newly post-partum haze, that I wondered if I was holding the right baby.  He and I both wore the clinic’s wristbands, but what if this wasn’t the right Asian baby boy I was given?   I couldn’t be completely sure because it was my first time meeting this small chub who had grown in my womb for the past 40 weeks!  (In subsequent births, I would marvel at the security of the American hospitals in confirming the correct baby was given to me every single time.)

We took our BabyBito home and it was apparent in the small characteristics that indeed, this is our son.  And then it became impossible for me to imagine that I ever could have doubted.

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This post was inspired by Raising Cubby: A Father and Son’s Adventures with Asperger’s, Trains, Tractors, and High Explosives by John Elder. Join us at From Left to Write on March 12 for our discussion of this book.  As a member of From Left to Write, I received a copy of the book, but all opinions are my own.

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