It has been an honor to be a guest blogger on the Fostermoms.com Sunday Speaker Series. This weekend I am the featured blogger. Please follow the link below to read the 7 ways I believe faith builds world changers. I have to say no. 7 is my favorite.
Like many adoption stories, ours begins with loss. After many trips to the fertility specialist and a major loss in March of 2005 it was evident that starting a family in the traditional sense was not going to be a viable option for us. Losing a pregnancy is a hard ambiguous loss.
Sitting in my bitterness I reached out to my mom. I remember in the middle of having a heartbreaking conversation with her she asked me the following. “Do you want to be pregnant or do you want to be a mom, because they are not the same thing?” Can you imagine how wild it was to hear those words from my own mother when I was in the middle of my career as an adoption social worker? If I’m being honest, adoption was always in my heart.
Meeting our son’s birth mom was scary and exciting. Would she like us? Would she turn and run? The moment we met her we were all in. She was beautiful, caring, and committed to her decision. As time went on we became friends. Can you imagine that?
In the months leading up to his birth, we spent a great deal of time together. I accompanied her to medical appointments, developed a delivery plan, and discussed what interactions would look like after he was born. I felt so honored when she introduced the idea that I be in the delivery room with her. What sticks out the most was her desire to give our son (hers and mine) the life she never had.
In hindsight, I can say that we grew to love her before we even met him. Loving her was something I could not have anticipated and yet it was easy. You see, how could I not love the woman that gave me my son? Without her life and love I would not be a mother and the magnitude of her sacrifice is not lost on me.
One warm November morning she called early. Her water broke and contractions were strong. She wanted us to meet her at the hospital! My heart stopped. Everything moved very quickly after that. I remember getting in the car and thinking when we come back home we will be parents.
If I’m being honest, there was a fear that set in as well. What if after she met him she would decide not to place him with us? That’s when I remember God gently reminding me that he was in control no matter the outcome. In faith I stepped out.
We arrived and spent an hour staring at one another fueled with fear and anticipation. This is when I am reminded that adoption, in all its beauty, is not a natural process. Every adoption experience is different and I was standing in the middle of ours.
- Our Moses Moment
We sat with her, held her hand during the hard contractions and I quietly prayed for her and our son. After about 2 hours and her contractions settling down she encouraged us to go get some food in the cafeteria. We were sitting down to eat when the call came in. It was her nurse, “Get here now or you’ll miss it.”
I ran into the room and witnessed the moment my son entered this world. What an amazing, breathtaking moment God gave me. He was perfect. He looked just like her. He was loved and I cut the cord. Scripture tells the story of Moses an adopted child. The name Moses comes from the Hebrew word meaning “to pull out/draw out.” This was our Moses moment.
Was I the first to hold our handsome child? No. It was his Daddy. He was the first to hold and feed this new person that would come to change our lives forever. I believe becoming His father changed Heath forever. When evening set in Heath went home to get the house ready for our guy before he came back. That gave his two mom’s time alone.
Together, in my room with him we both laughed, cried, and shared stories of our childhood. I tried to remember every detail of her story so that I could share it with him as he grew. This time together is forever etched in my soul.
When the time came to go home, she left first. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for her to walk away. I went to say goodbye, embrace her, and thank her for her sacrifice and love. We both knew this would not be the last time we would see each other for we are forever tied together.
I will never forget the day we brought our son home from the hospital. He was small, pink, and perfect. We were scared to death and overjoyed all at the same time. I remember the first time I felt like we finally hit a routine. As many of you know, bringing an infant home from the hospital is no small task. I remember thinking “Why did I move away from home again? Away from all my family and away from all the help in the world.” After weeks of no sleep, and showers only when my husband got home from work, I finally felt like we had a routine. What our routine didn’t include was a whole lot of outside time!
This particular afternoon with stroller in hand we braved the cold in the small town we lived in. We took a small tour of our local neighborhood and at the end when we had nearly reached our driveway saw our elderly neighbor from across the street come outside. She was saying something which I didn’t quite make out. I asked her to say it again as I hadn’t heard her the first time. “Where did you get that baby?” she repeated, this time a bit louder so I could understand.
I could understand why she was curious. Having not been pregnant or discussed our adoption with anyone but close family and friends, and seeing me here and now with this little baby was a shock. As our conversation continued, I quickly realized she wasn’t curious but rather concerned. I graciously explained that we were in the process of adopting our handsome son, but her expression let me know she wasn’t comfortable with the situation at all. What happened next still gives me chills. As I walked down the road, she called her nephew, a police officer, to come and figure out where I “got” our baby.
Think about that for a minute. How did I feel when he approached me? How could I feel? Humiliated. Here I was, a government employee having to explain to another government employee who my son was and a brief story of his adoption. Humiliating for both he and I. I wasn’t ready for that encounter or many others we have experienced over the last 12 years. I share most of these stories and what I have learned from them during my speaking engagements because I think it’s necessary for other adoptive parents to hear that they’re not alone and that they can thrive. The first lesson I immediately learned after this event was this neighborhood would never fully embrace our family. That year we sold the house and moved to a great neighborhood with very accepting neighbors.
This encounter taught me that I was ill prepared to address the interactions that were surely to come. Over the years I have learned valuable lessons about how to parent in a way that embraces and educates our community regarding our multiracial family and our adoption journey. This is why I believe that parents that have adopted interracially need to understand that parenting your (adopted) child will require additional skills that you may not currently possess but that you can learn.