Spotlight on Adoption: Guest Post

I am breaking my own rules, again, and I have decided to go ahead and post about adoption this week...even though it's the first Tuesday, instead of the last.

Adoption is a scary and unsure thing. It is something that not everyone can relate to. For me, it was a time in my life, where, if I asked someone for some reassurance, I could tell that they couldn't give me any that was genuine...because they had never been there...they actually didn't KNOW if everything was going to be OK. I treasure the time, now...because, it taught me my first and greatest lesson in trusting God. I had to learn that one for real! However, at the time, it was terrifying, and there were few I could turn to. There was one person, however, who knew exactly how I felt... and she came to be a mentor and God-given comfort for me. Her son and daughter-in-law are 2 of our most treasured friends in this life...more like family, really. A while back, I asked her to share her feelings and thoughts on our particular journey to motherhood, to be published on this blog. Her name is Kay...and at long last...these are her thoughts:

When Aleisha asked me to share something on adoption and gave me complete freedom, I really couldn’t decide where to start. As the adoptive mother of two, who are both now adults, I have had plenty of thoughts on adoption over the years.

First of all, to me adoption is a miracle of the most special kind. No, there is no physical labor. But is there labor?-- yes there is. When you are having a baby the natural way, you have a pretty good idea you’ll be a mother in approximately nine months. When you are having a baby by adoption, you may know nine months ahead of time, or you may wait for several years. Then when you finally get “the call”, you are in what I call emotional labor, which believe me can be pretty intense, and just a step away from insanity at times.

And the moment each of my children were placed in my arms, I can honestly say they were mine. Bonding doesn’t happen instantly with everyone, there are no rules about it.

I just know when I have been asked by well-meaning friends and sometimes by well-meaning strangers, “ Are you going to let them meet their real mother?” I want to remind them of the children’s story about the Velveteen Rabbit and what it means to be real. For the rabbit, it meant that his fur got rubbed off and he looked pretty ratty looking. His eyes might have been rubbed off (I don’t remember all the story), and he got awfully tattered. It’s kind of the same way with an adoptive mother. I got made real by getting thrown up on, spit up on, staying up 24 hours at a time to be the comforter to my sick child, etc. etc. –you get the idea. So I always tell whoever asks me, “ I am the real mother.” Being an adoptive mom is not being some kind of very special baby sitter, until the real mother comes back. Being an adoptive mother is being GIVEN the privilege of being a real mom. So what does that leave for the birth mother? For me, it meant an incredible sense of gratefulness and thankfulness to each of two young ladies who made what had to be an almost unbearably painful, yet exquisitely loving decision to give the gift of motherhood to someone like me. The story in the Bible ( King Solomon) of how the real mother was willing to give up her child so he could live tells it so much better than I can. I have had the opportunity to meet my son’s birth mother and to do what I longed to do for years--- say “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Those words seem so inadequate, but they were all I had. And as we hugged and cried, she honored me by saying those same words back to me—“Thank you for being my son’s mother.” I hope one day to get to meet my daughter’s birth mother and tell her thank you too. I always think of her on my daughter’s birthday and know she is wondering how the tiny little girl she gave birth to twenty-eight years ago is doing. And I long to tell her, “ She is doing great, she is an incredible person, and I am so, so blessed to be her mother. Thank you.” Maybe one day, I will get that chance.

The other question that well-meaning friends and sometimes well-meaning strangers would ask me was the most puzzling of all. When my children were small they would say( in whispered tones), “ Are you going to TELL them they are ADOPTED?” My answer always was, “ I never thought there was anything so terrible or dark about the truth. Yes, they will be told.” And they were. When they were each about two years old, I made each of them a little story book about how much Mommy and Daddy wanted a baby, how we prayed, and how God chose the very baby we were supposed to have through adoption.” Is that just a children’s story? Not to me, it’s not, it is God’s truth. Each one of my children was chosen for me as surely as if they had grown inside me.

Hope that my random thoughts have encouraged or blessed someone today.

Kay

Thank you, Kay...for everything...this beautiful post, your amazing heart...for raising an amazing man, so that he would marry an amazing woman; for being an ear and a comfort during our adoption; for making us one of those sweet books, so that we would also be able to share our experience with our son...and for being a vessel of God's love...what a wonderful legacy.

Our Adoption Story

I have been trying to find a place to fit the subject of adoption into the Project. For my husband and I, it's a very personal issue that has profoundly affected our life for years. I have decided that I will be incorporating a Spotlight on Adoption post to every last Tuesday of each month. Tuesdays are the days that I plan on writing about parenting & child rearing issues...whether it be something that we are dealing with and need help on, or if it be a tip that I have used in our home that has worked and which I feel would be useful to pass on. I hope to have running themes on each day of the week and then inspirational bits on Saturdays...all of which will funnel toward the common theme of practical ways to keep our families whole.

Today is the first of those posts...this is our adoption story:

In October of 2006, Brandon and I had been married for 3 1/2 years. There is nothing that either of us wanted more than to have children. Though we truly did want to have at least one biological child, we both felt a strong burden for children that needed a home, and we were determined that we would adopt at some point in our lives...if only just one child. However, in the fall of 2006, we owned a little landscaping business, we lived in a one bedroom apartment, and we were in NO financial shape to be seriously attempting it.

I was having a terrible time with my inability to conceive a child at that particular point. To be honest, I was exhausted with hope. I was sick of trying to keep my chin up, I was sick of that little feeling in my stomach EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I opened my eyes to see if there was a plus on the little test stick...like maybe THIS was the time...maybe THIS TIME we would get what we longed for. It all culminated one night, as I lay awake in bed & considered the fact that I may NEVER have a child. NEVER...that word rang in my mind as I wept and sputtered down the stairs of our loft at 2am, to go cry in the kitchen. I had a really hard time understanding why God would allow this...I mean crackheads have babies ALL THE TIME...seriously...WHAT THE???!!! It was at this point that I had to really search my soul...and I mean DIG DEEP. I just had a moment where I thought..."OK. If I never get to be pregnant, if I never get to give birth, if I never get to make a baby with my husband...am I ever going to be happy again?" I literally had to answer that question for myself. Immediately I knew...I could lay down my desires to be pregnant, but there's no way my life made sense without motherhood in it. So, in an instant...I just stopped. I put the proverbial baggage down...I turned around, and I walked away from it. I gave pregnancy to God...I told Him, "it's Yours. You take it. But, PLEASE let me be a mother somehow." That was December 20, 2006.

{Back in October of 2006, I had gotten a call from a friend. She told me that her boyfriend (who we'll just call Bob) had just received a call from a girl, that she had given birth to his child, and that she didn't feel that she could care for him. She told him that he could pick up the baby if he wanted to, and so...he did. My friend asked me if I could help him babysit, because this had just been sprung on him, and he had a full time job, and they knew that I wasn't working, at that point. I was happy to, and I began babysitting off and on for the next couple of months. The very first day, my husband and I had made an offhanded comment that we were looking to adopt sometime, and that if he didn't feel like he could do it alone, we would be happy to take the baby boy. We left it at that, and never put another thought into it...until December 21, the day after my meeting with God.}

December 21 is my grandmother's birthday, and my mom, sister, and I went out to lunch & shop for that and some more Christmas stuff. My mom had picked me up a little earlier, and I was telling her about the realization I had come to with God, the night before. We met my sister at a little deli shop, and I got a phone call from Brandon. He said that Bob had called very upset, and wanted to know if he could bring the baby over for the afternoon. He had just received negative paternity results, and needed to go talk to his family to decide what his next move was. *My heart nearly stopped.* I got a rush of adrenaline and a knot knitted itself in my stomach that would stay there for the next year and a half. I knew immediately what was happening, but there was no way that I was going to believe that THE. NEXT. DAY. after surrendering my will to God, that He would just hand me a child. Dude...that just doesn't happen...right? That stuff only happens in movies.......right?

I suppose that God had something to show me about His truly unbelievable antsy-ness to bless us.

I rushed home to help take care of the baby...Jackson was his name, and I waited by the phone. That night came and went, and we slept with a 10 week old baby in our bed, and the next day came and went...same story. On Christmas Eve, I finally got ahold of Bob. He told me that he did want to come get the baby...but, just for that night and Christmas Day so that he and his family could say goodbye...that, if we seriously wanted to have him...we could. He was devastated, but knew this was the best way.

There's no way to describe what kind of feelings began in me that day...but, it's probably not what you'd expect. I felt terror, disbelief, panic, gut-wrenching doubt, completely out of control, and then that love...oh the love I had for that baby boy. Overwhelming love. It was a love that I couldn't even access at that point, no matter how I tried, because I was terrified that it was all going to unravel. I wouldn't let anyone call me his mom until we had papers signed by the birth mother (who I will tell you about, later...she deserves her own post), and even then, I was protective of myself.

For the next year and a half, we went through all the adoption red tape, I got a raucous case of insomnia, and pretty heavy dose of anxiety disorder...and a child. A child whose name we now spell Jaxen, and who is my son...through and through...my blood, my calling, my gift...a treasure on loan from a gracious Heavenly Father who couldn't. wait. a. single. day. to wow me beyond all my imaginings, because I gave my desires to Him. On February 29, 2008, we stood before a judge, and we became Jaxen's naturalized parents. I love that phrase...naturalized parents....because, he's ours...naturally. He was always supposed to be ours.

It's funny...I can hardly remember all the pain and fear of that time period. After we got the adoption decree, signed by the judge, I just got to the business of letting all that was stuck behind that dam of fear rush out and engulf my little boy. My. Little. Boy. My son.

{jackson: december 28, 2006}

{jaxen: april 22, 2010}