Trading My Mother for "Lots of Toys"

You can try this activity at home.  Do it with your kids if they are old enough.  It is a powerful visual.

We attended a class tonight, and one of the activities really hit home.  Actually, several of them did, but this is the one I’m writing about tonight.  When we adopt a child, we often think about the great life we want to give them.  And, in particular if we adopt a child out of foster care or out of an orphanage in a foreign country, the focus can often be on how much better their life will be with us than where they have been.  But we forget that the best day of our lives—the day that child comes to live with us, is the worst day of his or her life.  It is the day that everything changes for them.  Familiar people, sights, smells, textures, languages that are spoken in the home or city, pets, friends, and the list goes on.  In an effort to give this child a fresh start, sometimes we are too quick to sweep away the things we think are part of the problem, and replace them with the things we think are part of the solution.  And we throw the baby out with the bathwater.

 

So here is how the activity went tonight.  We had to write down on five cards the names of five attachments we have to important people in our lives.  I just picked the first five that came to mind.  My parents, my husband, my son and my sister.  (I really encourage you to do this activity as you read this.  The impact is so much greater than just reading about it.)  Then we partnered with someone and the instructor told us that sadly we were going to lose one of those relationships. We had to hold up our cards with the names facing us, and let them blindly choose a relationship to go away.  The first to go was my Dad.  She asked how that felt, and I said “painful” and I meant it.  My Dad has had a heart attack and two rounds of cancer in the last five years, and so I had already contemplated the fact that losing him might be a reality sooner than I thought.  It brought up those feelings again.  Then she said that now we were going to lose two of them, and she blindly pulled my sister and my husband.  I was standing there holding D and my Mom in my hand, and I can honestly say, I was starting to panic a little.  The thought of losing all three of those relationships was not softened by still having my son and my mother.  Then, she said we had to lose one more and she pulled D out of my hand.  My sweet boy that I have waited so long for was gone in a blink.  By now, my heart was really feeling physical pain at the thought of that loss.  She asked if anyone in the room had been left with the one relationship they would have picked of the five.  Nobody raised their hand.  That is hard for me to say, because I don’t want to think one relationship is above the other, or that I love one more than the other.  But the fact is, my husband would be the toughest one to lose.  He is my partner and his loss would affect every single aspect of my life in a much greater way than anyone else.  He is my son’s father.  He is the main breadwinner.  He is my daily support and best friend and the person I lean on the most.  The loss of my husband would have a much more devastating affect than any other one, even though I would mourn greatly for those losses, too.  Then, they picked five of us to come to the front of the room.  John and I were both chosen.  And they said that we now had to lose the last one, but they were going to give us something great in return.  The first lady’s new card said “My own room”.  I was next.  They took away my Mom and gave me “Lots of Toys”.  Lots of toys.  That was my trade for my mother.  They took D away from John and gave him “a pool”.  The next two people got “big beautiful home” and “dance lessons” in exchange for their cherished relationship.  It was a powerful moment.  The instructor made the trades with such excitement in her voice….something like “that is so cool that you are going to have lots of new toys!”  But how could that ever be a replacement for my mother?  And yet, that’s how we see it for these kids.  You may argue that their mother is a drug addict or abusive or something else.  But the fact is, that person is this child’s mother and he or she will always, always love her and want a relationship with her, and a pool, or a bunch of toys will never replace her, or heal a broken-hearted little child.

One of the other great things that was said tonight is that so much of this grieving and healing process is not to fix the problem.  The loss of these relationships is not a fixable problem.  The process is about learning to adjust.  A light bulb went on inside my head.  All the things that have impacted my life in a negative way cannot be fixed.  I have to adjust, not resolve.  I have to learn where to file that memory, not shred it.  It can’t be thrown away.  It can’t be shredded or burned.  It is a part of me.  What a relief.  That really was the conclusion I came to.  What a relief to know that I can heal without having to forget.  I can let go of the need to wipe out certain things and embrace just learning how to put that thing in its place and move forward.  Healing doesn’t mean we were never wounded.  It means our body has healed, and even if it still bears a scar, it’s not the focus of our life anymore.  It has been treated and healed as completely as possible, and now we get up and get on with it.

I stood there holding my “lots of toys” card thinking how superficial and so totally unimportant that was to me, and how it didn’t even hold a candle to having my mother.  I felt a rush of empathy and compassion for these kids who lose everything that is the most important to them.  I felt worse for the kids whose adoptive parents think they are the solution and that starting over and severing ties was the best thing for them.  I hope they are not threatened by their child’s love for these people left behind.  Someone once said that love isn’t a pie, where if I get a slice, that’s one less slice for someone else.  Love is just love and you can give it all away, and still have all of it.  It’s magic that way.  That child can love all of you, so don’t make them choose.  Be a part of the healing process and let them know that they are free to love anyone they choose for as long as they want.  You might find that letting go and just loving these children will allow the love to bounce back and find you again, and it will bless your life an hundred-fold.  

Why I Have No Use for Alcohol or Drugs.

I was reminded recently why I have almost no use for alcohol or drugs, beyond the alcohol that is found in a bottle of vanilla or used to disinfect.

We had the opportunity last week to attend San Diego County Adoption’s Fall Fest.  It is an event in which kids that are a little harder to place for adoption are showcased via profiles and pictures to families with approved home studies who are on the list waiting to adopt.  Here’s basically how it adoption preferences go.  An newborn Caucasian girl is the most requested placement.  Next is other newborns, followed by infants under two, followed by children under five.  Then, somewhere in there are sibling groups of two or more along with older kids and special needs children in no particular order.  The bigger the sibling group, the older the child (or children) and/or the greater their special needs, the harder they are to place.  And so it goes.  The Fall Fest showcased all those groups except individual kids under the age of five who had no special needs (meaning some type of handicap, whether physical, mental or some of both—not meaning general development/emotional issues that often come with neglect, abuse or the other myriad of reasons children find their way into the system).  The only time a child under five was showcased was as part of a sibling group.

There were more than fifty kids or sibling groups showcased that night.  They gave us each a packet to take home so that we could think about the kids we were interested in and look at their information again to decide if we wanted to move forward.  The particulars are private to families waiting to adopt, but I wanted to share a few things that stuck with me, and will share in general terms to respect that privacy.

The one thing that stood out to me as I read through these profiles is that, almost without fail, the reason these kids had been removed from their homes was due, in some part, to substance abuse.  I am so tired of hearing people argue that drugs and alcohol are no big deal because they are only harming their own bodies.  While that may be the intent, and it may be the case for some, for many people, there are innocent victims.  The abuses laid down in these profiles would make anyone cringe.  There was neglect, physical, sexual and emotional abuse, kids exposed to drugs and alcohol, and kids exposed to sexually explicit materials and/or things occurring in their own homes.  There were kids whose permanent physical and/or emotional conditions resulted in decisions made by parents under the influence.  There were kids who have had little to no contact with parents since being taken into custody because those parents can’t get it together enough to even make one visit in months.  In almost every case, all of these problems were brought on by drug and/or alcohol abuse.  Did you know that the worst thing that a pregnant mother can do is drink alcohol?  Did you know that with almost every drug, most of the damage caused in utero can be reversed or adjusted to as the child grows, but damage from alcohol, such as Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, is permanent and irreversible?  Cocaine, heroin, meth....none of them hold a candle to the damage caused by alcohol to a fetus.  Don't get me wrong, drugs are damaging, but in comparison to what alcohol can do--the supposedly less harmful substance--it's not even a close race.

I do feel for these parents with substance abuse problems.   Many of them grew up in similar circumstances.  I once heard a mom whose kids had been taken away from her tell how she had been exposed to drugs so early on, that she had done her first line of cocaine at the age of five.  She was pregnant with her first child by thirteen, and the father was in his thirties.  Her second child by the same man came along just a couple of years later.  She eventually pulled her life together and got her boys back and is doing well now.  I do have compassion for these parents, but, our kids need to be protected, whether we have compassion for their abusers or not.  Did you know that seventy percent of prisoners in California were in foster care at some point?  It’s an incredible statistic.

I don’t have all the statistics on alcohol and drug use, but I have enough to know that I have no use for any of it.  I have had struggles in my life and made choices I was not proud of, so know that I am not standing in judgment.  But this was one thing I never desired.  I never understood the draw of being so far gone that you would not have control over what might happen to you.  That never appealed to me.  My religion has a health code that includes abstaining from alcohol and illegal drugs as well as tobacco.  There was a time in my youth when I adhered to this health code mostly because that was what I had been taught.  But, I have had the truth of that health code confirmed to me time and time again through my own experiences and the experiences of those around me.  I believe it now more than ever.  

I know there are many people who drink responsibly out there.  I don’t think there is any responsible use for illegal drugs, and sometimes for legal ones.  That belief has been solidified by seeing the effects of these things on our children.  The misuse of drugs and alcohol have had devastating effects on children all over the world, whether through too early exposure or through abuse and neglect heaped on them because of the substance abuse of their parents or others around them.  I wish everyone could read these profiles and see where that abuse has led these children--the innocent bystanders of those who think they are only damaging their own bodies.  I only hope that people will see past the inherent problems that this abuse may have caused in these children and welcome the opportunity to adopt one.  Having a three-year-old at home has limited what we are willing to take on, as his safety has to be a major priority (this is something I will discuss in another post).  But if you are just starting out and are waiting for your first child, or maybe have grown children and are starting over, I hope you will research the option of adopting an older child or sibling group or a special needs child.  You might be surprised at how the reward may far outweigh the work.


***If you are considering adoption an older child, please read my post "How Long Are We Parents?"

How Long Are We Parents?

My mother on the left, still a part of our family, parenting and
grand-parenting after all these years....and we are all far
past eighteen years old.

I had a conversation a few days ago with the man who was cutting my hair that has been on my mind.  I had never met him before, so we were talking a little bit about our lives, and the subject of adoption came up.  He commented about how he had considered adoption, but because of his age and circumstances, he thought a teenager would be best for him.  I told him there was a great need for people to adopt teenagers, as it becomes harder to place kids the older they get.  I was impressed to think he would be willing to take on the challenges that come with adopting children who have so much past history long before you arrive.   I was impressed until he said the following, “I’m thinking a sixteen-year-old would be best because then it’s only a two-year commitment.”  I was speechless.  He went on to explain that after they turned eighteen and left the house, then if they wanted to keep in touch, they could, but that there wouldn’t be as much time involved at that point.  I honestly didn’t know what to say.  I didn’t want to say what I really thought, as we were in the middle of a long overdue haircut, and I didn’t want it turning south because I had offended him.  Call me selfish, but I can’t afford a haircut very often!  But, I did want to say something, so I searched for a way to say something like “Never adopt!” in a much nicer way.  As I was contemplating my choice of words, it just got worse.  He said he figured that with older children there would be some kind of interview process where he could say “Hey, do you like dogs?  Because I have two and I need someone who likes dogs.” If they answered yes, they could move on to the next question, and if they said no, he could move on to the next kid.  A type of adoption speed-dating, if you will.

I don’t mean to criticize, because I do think that in his own way, he was trying to make it a good fit for the child, too.  But I think what he really needed to do was put out an ad for a roommate.  I think he wanted companionship and maybe to feel like he was helping, but not quite the full realm of parenthood.  I don’t even want to drag out my commentary on this, because I don’t want to be negative about someone when I don’t really know them.  He was a very nice man.  I just don’t think he has pondered much about what it means to be a dad.  There’s hardly a parent out there who thinks they will be finished when their child turns eighteen.  I want to delve into the world of adopting older children, but I think that is a separate post, so will gather my thoughts on that soon, because I do think it is an amazing thing to do.  And I think I will just leave this up to you to ponder, and be grateful if you have parents who have been in it for the long haul.  Call them up and tell them thank you.

Pick me, pick me! Like Middle School Sports All Over Again.

I had a little scare with my sweet little boy yesterday.  We had been swimming at a friend’s pool for a couple of hours.  D was tired and wanted to change into his dry clothes.  He was standing with his friend at the end of the pool throwing in beach balls and then fishing them out as they floated back to the edge of the pool.   I turned to talked to one of the moms and he fell in the deep end.  I just remember hearing silence where laughter and chatter had once been.   His friend’s father was standing right beside them and was getting ready to jump in after him fully clothed, having just arrived from work.  Thanks to a summer of swim lessons, D resurfaced after a second or two and though panicked, had not swallowed any water since he knew how to hold his breath.  I was getting ready to jump in when the father was able to grab his arm and fish him out.  D was so upset, but safe.  He didn’t even choke on any water at all.  I hugged him and told him what a good job he had done holding his breath and how he had been able to bring himself back to the surface of the water.  He sobbed for a minute, denying his success—“No, I not!”.  I reassured him that even though the father had pulled him out, that he had had a big hand in saving himself.  He suddenly stopped crying and said in a happy voice “I fine!”.  I thought about that all afternoon, and ran the “what ifs” through my head.  I wasn’t too shaken by it until I woke up around 1 a.m. just sick over the whole event.  D had crawled into bed with us, and instead of taking him back to his bed like normal, I left him there.  I lay beside him and watched him sleep peacefully.  I inspected his facial features and thought about how quickly he was growing into a little boy.  His chubby little cheeks have receded into a more angular face.  He has freckles on his lips his body is strong and more lean than before.  He is handsome and funny and a fun-loving handful of a child.  I love him so much.

I thought about how often we as parents make mistakes and beat ourselves up over what we think are bad decisions.  There are no handbooks for raising children, although I feel like those of us who adopt get more of one than most with all the classes we are required to take.  But, even so, it’s sink or swim for most of us, and every now in then, we have someone bail us out, too.  This experience made me think about this questionnaire we had to fill out to be in the birthparent profile pool.  The county has a waiting list, but they also have a pool of applicants from which birthparents can choose parents for their children if it is a voluntary relinquishment.  It’s a great opportunity, but can be a difficult thing to fill out.  You want to tell the truth, but you also want to be the fun, happy couple that will make someone choose you.  And all the high school popularity issues (or lack thereof as in my case…) coming flooding back!  You are allowed three pages to answer these questions and three pages of pictures you think will show who you are individually and as a couple.  I will spare you our answers, but thought you might like to see the list of questions.  It took awhile for us to fill this out, trying to judge between how much of the truth to share and how much we didn’t want to scare anyone off!  We just tried to look somewhat normal, moderately fun, not too weird, but not too mainstream, maybe a little edgy…..oh, who am I kidding!  It is what it is, right?  Sigh.  Maybe I should just put in the one about parenting, “at least he’s still alive!”  I mean, that’s a success in my book at the end of the day.

Here are the questions we were required to answer in hopes we'd be cool enough to be chosen...how would you answer?  Kind of interesting to take a look at yourself and your relationship a little more closely sometimes. 

Following information for both applicants:

• First Name:
• Year of Birth:
• Race & Ethnicity
• Physical Description: 
• Height:    
• Weight: 
• Hair color:   
• Eye Color
• Skin:
• Why we want to adopt:
• What is each of us like as person?
• Education level and field:
• Employment (prior and current)
• Employment and child care plans when the child comes:
• Religion (how active, how we will raise our children):
• Interests, hobbies, and sports (individually and shared):
• Reading (type):
• TV viewing (type and how much):
• Music (type):
• Describe your home (What makes it distinctively yours?):
• Describe your neighborhood (urban, rural, etc.):
• Do you have pets?  What kind?
• Marriage:
• How do husband and wife share/divide household responsibilities and chores?:
• How do you as a couple/family spend your time together (i.e. how do you spend a typical weekend?):
• Brief description of childhood (number of siblings, where you grew up, relationship with parents, significant memories/experiences/etc.?)  One paragraph:
• Briefly describe a difficult life experience you had and how you learned from it (one paragraph):
• Extended family (relationship between grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousings:  geographical locations of relatives; experiences and attitudes toward adoption:
• Experience with children:
• Children in home:  adopted/biological   description/personality/year of birth:
• How are, or will, child-care responsibilities be handled between husband and wife?:
• Thoughts about relationship with birth parents:  How do you feel about:
•  Meeting the birth parent(s) prior to, or at placement.
• Updating of pictures and letters about the child over the years.
• Receiving pictures and letters from birth parent(s) over the years.
• Supporting a search for birth parents.

Finances...No Stone Left Unturned.

Aaahhh, finances.  Yes, every corner of your life must be examined before you can take home a child.  This blog post will be short and sweet, as I really just wanted to post this Financial Statement that we were required to fill.  It's just an informative tidbit for those hoping to adopt, just so you are prepared for the microscope.  I really have a love/hate relationship with a lot of the things we are required to do and here's why.  I feel like any schmo can go out and get pregnant (...okay, well obviously not ANY schmo...), and yet we have to report our car payments and checking accounts and health insurance, and what we spent on Cheetos last month (okay, that may be a slight exaggeration, but only the part about the Cheetos).  On the other hand, I know the county wants to make sure prospective adoptive parents have the means to support their children, and this is all done to protect them.  I do understand that, and I think it's necessary.  Social workers get a bad rap, and we have been blessed to have some really great ones who I know for a fact have these kids' best interest in mind.  SO....even though it may sound like I'm complaining, I'm really not.  I do think this financial statement is interesting, though.  Maybe every couple choosing to have children should fill out a sheet like this....maybe it would make them take things a little more seriously.  That said, I really think that we are never completely prepared to have children in any way, and if we knew the reality of what it was going to cost us (and I ain't just talking money), maybe a lot more people would choose to not have children!  And that would be a shame.  Frankly, it is hard, and it is expensive and it will give you wrinkles and grey hair, but it will give you joy and fulfillment and love you didn't know possible.  It will stretch you and improve you in so many ways, and when you think you just aren't a good enough parent, you will find that you are.  And sometimes, those sacrifices we make, including financially, become some of the most memorable, character-building times of our lives--ones we wouldn't trade for anything, not even for the thrill of not living paycheck-to-paycheck.

Take a perusal and let me know your thoughts.

My Mother-of-the-Year Award Awaits.

My little monkey.  He looks higher than he really
was...not that I need to explain or anything....

Let’s see.  I just got back from being gone from my three-year-old son for nine days.  I yelled at him this morning and confiscated his trains until this evening.  I thought I was being the cool mom when I let him climb a tree today, which he did better than the kids almost twice his age I might add….and then he fell out of said tree just seconds after snapping my awesome photo and sobbed for five minutes straight.  He asked “what the heck?!” to some kid at the park.  I’m pretty sure I checked my phone way too many times today, and I let him watch way too much TV this morning.  All in all, I’ve had one of those mother-of-the-year days.  I know that in the grand scheme of things, it could have been much worse.  I mean, he’s alive, right?  He is happy, and he thought it was really funny when I sang him to sleep with “We are Siamese if you please….we are Siamese if you don’t please…ba dunt dunt dunt…”  In fact, he was almost out and he smiled and only half opened his eyes and said “Again.”  Of course, I obliged.  I think we ended the day on a high note.

But, high note or not, these are the things I think about when the social workers are interviewing us about our parenting styles and how we react to conflict and how we discipline.  I think about it every time we are in a required class that has to do with the best way to parent a child (which is what most of classes are about).  I think about what could happen if someone saw me in a moment of anger and reported me to child protective services, and even though I’ve never done anything close to something that would be considered abuse, I worry that because we have an open home study and are waiting to adopt again, that any little misinterpreted action could be a problem.  How deeply would they investigate?  Would they take my sweet boy first and ask questions later?  I know they would only do that in an effort to protect him, but the thought makes me sick to my stomach.  These are the things you think about when under scrutiny. 

I know I’ve talked a lot about how invasive the whole adoption process is, and I don’t say that to scare anyone off.  I know it is designed to protect these kids who have already been through so much.  Logically, I know that this kind of scenario probably would never happen, but, I would be lying if I said we don’t live a little bit in fear of the scrutiny.  We’ve all passed judgment on someone else’s parenting choice, knowing full well we have no idea of the back story or full circumstances.  Fortunately, there usually isn’t much fallout from that criticism.  But what if someone took it a step further and called the police on us?  I know of a few cases in which police were called because a stranger didn’t like the way a parent handled something, even though there was no abuse that happened.  When you have an open file with the county and are visited and interviewed about your choices, there is always fear that something will look like more than it is.  There is the tendency to sugarcoat a little bit to make sure nothing sounds even remotely suspicious.  However, we have also had it drilled into us that it is better to tell the truth than to be caught in a lie.  If you have ever caught a friend or family member in a lie, you know that everything they have ever told you or will ever tell you is now viewed with an element of mistrust.  We have made it a point to be very upfront and honest, even if it meant having to sacrifice some privacy and a little pride.  I’ve even considered whether or not I should openly blog about my parenting mishaps for fear that it could be used against me at some point.  But, I can’t live life in fear….well, not too much fear.  Maybe just enough to keep me on my toes, but hopefully not enough to paralyze me.

So, yes, I will continue to let my little wild child climb trees, and most likely I will raise my voice at him again, although I’m trying to be more patient.  The reason I was gone for nine days was to help with my father's lung cancer surgery, and frankly, although it was hard being away from D, I think it's important that he knows he isn't the center of the universe and that grandpa needed me more right now.  I would bet money on him getting his trains confiscated at least a few more times during his childhood.  He is a stubborn little sucker!  I am reminded frequently that it can be a good trait if we can ever channel it properly.  I will try to teach him to say more polite phrases than “What the heck?!”, but since I know he parrots me, that may be a harder fix.  We have to embrace the extra scrutiny, because until we are finished with our family, it is just something we have to live with, and I know it is meant to protect children.  And, perhaps in some ways, it has made me look at my parenting occasionally as a third party, which I’m convinced is not a bad thing.  I think it’s good to take an outside point of view sometimes to see more objectively what things I could be improving.  Besides, a full investigation would just prove that we are normal, and we have bad days and good days, and we know we aren’t perfect, and that we love him to the moon and back, and isn’t that what they want for these kids anyway?

The Infertility Checklist.

Infertility.   I know it’s common.  I know thousands and thousands of women (and even men for that matter) deal with it every day.  But even so, it’s interesting how few conversations I’ve had about it over the years.  Maybe it’s because it’s a painful topic, or maybe because someone is always giving you advice as to what to try next or trying to figure out what you’re doing wrong, and even though you know it’s helpful, it is hard to have those discussions.  For me, the difficulty came because I seemed to be the only one who didn’t eventually get pregnant.  Even most of my friends who adopted had at least one biological child, and so even though we’d been through a lot of similar experiences, it just never seemed like anyone had as much or as long as a battle as I did.  I’ve been trying to get pregnant since I was twenty-one and we got D when I was thirty-eight, so that gives you a small idea of what we have been through.  When we headed into adoption, it was after a year-long experience with our last option--two rounds of invitro fertilization, during which my body reacted horribly and I became extremely sick.  When the second round failed, we were done, and with feelings still raw and tears still fairly fresh, we went to our first adoption seminar to look at our options.

I suppose we are the classic example of why the county makes people go through this checklist and take their “Adoption After Infertility” class.  One of the hardest things about the whole process is how personally invasive it is.  As couples, we have so many personal and intimate conversations about everything from children to our hopes and dreams to marital conflicts we need to resolve, and most of those are kept private.  With adoption, nothing is private.  I have a love-hate relationship with the whole thing, because I know that they are just protecting the children from going from the frying pan into the fire.  And yet, sometimes you feel like it’s just none of their business.  But, I guess it is if they want to, with a clear conscience, place these children in a homes that will be good for them.

I have included both pages of a checklist we were both required to fill out (click on them to see them larger).  During the class we were required to attend, most, if not all of these issues were discussed, and you are supposed to openly and honestly share where you are in coming to terms with each of these “tasks”.  Of course I green lighted everything, and honestly, I do think I was telling the truth.  But a few of them still made me a little sick to my stomach to think about.  As much as I think we were ready to move forward with adoption, I don’t know that grief ever has an end, as implied in #1.   In regards to #4, I wondered if that meant 51/49 was okay, or was it supposed to be 80/20?  Numbers 6-8….hmmm…sketchy, but I’m sure I dabbled here in there.  Number 9-10?  Well, I think it’s hard to answer a question like that when you aren’t in that situation yet.  We all like to think we would be so intelligent in our dialogue, but even with extensive education, it’s hard to know how to handle certain things when it involves your child whom you love dearly.  And #11-#12….am I the only one that sees these as contradictory?  Having had a child placed for us for adoption and losing him back to his birth-father makes me think #11 may need to be reworded.

I do think this checklist is a good starting point for some open and honest discussion with your social worker, your spouse, and most importantly yourself.  You do need to be sure you are ready, although give yourself a little slack and don’t require such a complete, rigid standard.  You might not be 100% on everything, and that’s okay.  I’m still not, and I’m loving our little adopted boy and we’re on the list to do it again!


***Also, if you have experienced infertility, whether you adopted as a result or not, you might enjoy my post Plan B:  It's a Good Thing  

Plan B. It's a Good Thing.

My Sweet Adopted Plan B Child--Running Free

I heard an adult adoptee say once “let’s face it, nobody comes into adoption because that was their first choice”.  I don’t know about “nobody” but I think that’s probably generally true for the majority of adoptive parents.  We are here because this was Plan B, and Plan A failed.  Heck, it might have even been Plan C or D!  This particular quote came from a girl who was a little bit bitter about all she had been through, and even though she had great adoptive parents, there was something in knowing that she was Plan B that bothered her.  I’ve pondered on that statement many times, and wondered how to keep D from feeling that way.  But, as I have thought more about it, I have wondered how many times our Plan A didn’t work out and that whatever came as a result of having to rethink our plans was actually better than our Plan A would have ever  been.  Let’s think about high school crushes we just knew we wanted to marry, or how many times we changed majors in college, or how many jobs we had before we found something we liked, or how often you spent way too much money on something you just had to have, only to find it was not nearly as fulfilling as anticipated.  I’ve heard so many stories of people who suffered some great difficulty, only to find that it was the very thing that propelled them to greatness.  My father wound up with a combination of horrible dehydration and a double kidney infection this summer that left him practically passed out on his bedroom floor in the middle of the night, after having vomited everywhere.  And yet, in diagnosing his kidney infections, the doctor found a cancerous mass in his lung.  He just had surgery in which everything was successfully removed and no signs of spreading because it was caught so early.  We are thanking God right now for that horrible round of infections.  I remember seeing an interview with Richard Dreyfuss about how he was afraid this stupid movie he was in was going to end his career.  It was Jaws.  Lance Armstrong became even more competitive after his bout with cancer.  His body experienced changes that ultimately made him a better athlete.  And perhaps mentally, he was so much tougher having fought that battle.  Whatever it was, the combination paid off in a way that had not happened before the cancer.  There is story after story of incidences in which the thing we so desperately wanted faded off into the sunset and surprisingly left an opportunity for something better.

I won’t say that adoption is better than birthing a child.  I would still jump at the chance to be pregnant and have that wonderful experience.  But I don’t pine away for it like I used to do.  Age has blessed me with the ability to look back on my life and acknowledge that I have learned some fabulous lessons from experiences I would never have wished upon myself.  I have come to know amazing people because I was forced to.  I have had my eyes opened to new possibilities, and also just to the idea of having them open.  I have learned to pay attention to the people and things and opportunities that grace my pathway, and just assume that I have something to gain by taking a closer look.  Years of fertility treatment brought grief and many tear-filled nights.  But it also brought knowledge and compassion I have been able to share with others going through the same thing.  Adoption has caused me to ponder what it is that really makes a family, and what I’m willing to go through to have my own, Plan B or otherwise.  Maybe the “B” stands for blessing, or better, or beneficial or brave.  Or maybe it just stands for best, because that’s what it’s been for us.

It’s a Marriage, Not a Birth: Get Over It. Love It. Embrace it.

I’ve been told that adoption is more of a marriage than a birth.  I think that is pretty accurate and the older the child is at the time of adoption, the more of a marriage it is.  At first I thought that because we got D when he was so young, that this wouldn’t really be as true for us, but it is.  Think about the differences between a birth and a marriage.  A birth is when a human life enters the world not ever having known anything else but his mother and father.  I add father because even though he hasn’t physically touched his father until birth, he is still made up of DNA and other physical things that came directly from his father—things that physically touched him.  This child has known no other life besides his own and in some degree, that of his parents.  An adopted child has a history before you—family, friends, DNA, culture, and so many other things—and that’s okay.  It’s even good, so embrace it.

As I’ve sat in numerous adoption and foster parent classes, I have been privy to many, many discussions, some which included me, and some to which I not-so-subtly eavesdropped.  It has been interesting to hear how many prospective adoptive parents would like to erase their potential child’s past and “move on”.  Things like drug and alcohol abuse, neglect, mental illness and so many more issues that have plagued various birth parents lives, become the reasons for criticism.  And keep in mind that many adoptions happen as the result of very coherent, deliberate choices by wonderful birth parents to place their children with families because they just don’t feel that they can give those children good lives.  Those choices are made out of a great love for their child and extreme unselfishness.  But, as one who has adopted out of our local foster care, I can say that most adoptions aren’t the result of a choice like that.  I believe that adoptive parents really need to face this fact:  adoption is not the same as a biological birth.  Accept it.  Mourn the loss of it, if that bothers you, and get over it.  It’s not the same and it never will be and that’s not a bad thing.  It’s just a different thing.

I remember sitting through a wonderful class that was all about how we need to not cut off all ties from a child’s birth family or the life they had before adoption.  The instructors taught about how continued visits with biological family long after adoption can be most beneficial to the child.  They taught us to not throw away clothes or blankets or anything from the child’s life before adoption because no matter how tattered and dirty those things might seem to us, they are one of the few connections that child has with their biological family and with a former life that is becoming more and more distant in his memory.  They talked about not changing their names (especially in older children) because it may be the only thing their mother ever gave them.  They talked about the difficulty in still having contact with the biological family, but that in many cases, that contact was very healing for a child.  They discussed how many adoptive parents don’t want the hassle of more extended family, or regular visits, or dealing with people that aren’t their own family.  They said often adoptive parents are insecure that a child might perhaps love someone else more than them, and maybe want to return to live with that family, but that on the contrary, usually what happens is that the adopted child realizes this was the better choice for him and is happier to have discovered that for himself.  Ironically, right after the bulk of this class was taught, I heard an adoptive father turn to someone else during a break and say “Well, I’m severing those ties as soon as possible.  I know what’s best for my child and they aren’t it.”  I was totally surprised that he had missed every single principle taught in that class, and I felt sadness at how his child may feel, not only with his parents’ attitude towards where he came from, but also without that connection that might have helped him to heal more quickly and more completely.  Adopted children need to sort through all these things at their own pace, not at a pace that is more convenient for us.  A marriage is two people entering in to a contract, with risks on both sides.  Don’t forget it’s a risk for the child to take you, too, and he never asks for you to leave your past behind.

Adoption is a wonderful thing.  If you have read any of my blog entries, then you already know how I feel about it.  But it is the marrying of two worlds.  It is two or more people that aren’t blood-related coming together just like in a marriage.  As you willingly step into that union, remember that you are taking that child to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until…well, I know the traditional vows ends with “til death do us part”, but I believe in the eternal nature of families, so I will replace that with “forever and ever”.   

Maybe We All Need Parenting Classes (and other truths we don't want to admit)

I wonder how many parenting classes the average parent has had.  As I look at this picture, and think about the things this crazy child does, I wonder if maybe I need more!  I wonder how many parents are CPR/First Aid certified.  With all the frustrations and mounds of paperwork required for the great state of California to deem me an acceptable parent, I do think there are some good things that come out of it.  Every year, we are required to complete eight hours of classes that have something to do with parenting our hopefully soon-to-be-adopted child (we don’t have another one in our home yet, but have be current just in case we get the call).  If you include the first year of the process to get approved to adopt, that means we have attended at least 29 three-hour classes, not including the three we are due to attend this month, or the three-hour CPR/First Aid classes we have to attend every other year.  And even though we are only required to have eight hours each year, the classes are almost always three-hour classes, so that really makes nine hours each year.  The math=96 hours of parenting-related classes, not including the twelve hours we will attend this month, making the total at least 108 hours!  Okay….ENOUGH MATH!

So, what kind of classes?  Here is the list.  Many of these have multiple sessions, but even so, we have been required to take so many hours that we have had to repeat the classes over the years.  Keep in mind that these classes are for foster parents and adoptive parents, as in California, you have to be certified for both since technically you are foster parents until the adoption is final.

·         --Embracing Your Child’s Heritage (I did another blog post based on this class called “Am I Racist for Wanting a White Baby?”)

·        -- Risk Factors (which will “examine current information about inherited illnesses (including mental illnesses), congenital conditions (including cerebral palsy), and the risks and effects of prenatal drug exposure, alcohol and HIV.”)

·        -- Attachment Parenting (session is six three-hour classes designed to give tools and techniques to help children who have experienced trauma, abuse, neglect, etc., be able to form healthy relationships)

·         --Kinship Adoption (for those adopting an extended family member)

·         --Adoption after Infertility (required for those adopting because of failed fertility treatment….we had to take this one)

·         --Adoption the Lifelong Process (covers issues that arise over the life of an adopted child, including how to talk about their experience before and after adoption, how to talk about birthparents, exploring what it means to them to be adopted, etc.)

·         --The Placement Process (self-explanatory—all the nuts and bolts of the adoption process)

·         --Adult Adoptee Panel (one of my favorites—usually two to three people who were adopted as children and now share their stories, the challenges they faced and how they overcame and/or deal with issues that often arise in adopted children)

Those are the core classes that are repeated every year.  Then there are others that are taught from time to time.  Here are some of the ones I’ve seen recently:  Beyond Consequences (better ways to discipline children, especially those that have been affected by neglect and/or abuse and who don’t respond positively to traditional discipline methods;  Social Skills for Youth, Parenting the Hurt Child, Anger Issues, Shaken Baby Syndrome, etc., etc., not to mention classes about the particulars like how your adoption benefit works, applying for extra help with special needs children, plus the initial PRIDE classes which is the nine-class session everyone has to take when initially getting certified to Foster Parent/Adopt.  These classes go through so much information from the basics of the process, to many of the things that kids and parents in the system go through.   Double Whew!

My point in sharing this, is that at first, I felt a little frustrated.  I mean, you look around and you see so many people that you feel (and I know this is totally judgmental!) have absolutely no business being parents.  Often their pregnancies were unwanted, or they are on drugs and/or alcohol and continue to abuse those substances while pregnant, or they are living on the streets, or have no means of supporting a child, or even worse, of being able to actually have feelings of love and commitment to a child.  And yet, I, as a potential adoptive parent, have to jump through so many hoops and have people ask me very personal questions about past relationships and my job status, and look at my bank statement and ask how my childhood will affect my parenting.  I have to take a class about adopting after years of infertility treatment to make sure I’m in the right state of mind to have a child.  They question stupid decisions I made twenty years ago, checking carefully under my fingernails to make sure there is no dirt there.  It is really hard to not get self-righteous about how I can be a better parent than someone else.  And I say this as a person who does not look down on others for any of those reasons.  I do try to have compassion and know that I don’t know their circumstances and therefore have no right to judge.  But when we stand side by side, and they are allowed to keep their child and I have to do just the right dance to get mine, it’s hard not to start making comparisons.  That said, here is what I’ve learned from this, as I implement my silver-lining approach to life….maybe more of us need parenting classes.  We have to take classes to get certified for all kinds of things—driving a car, getting a degree, handling food as a waitress, learning to sew, becoming a Zumba instructor, and the list goes on.  And how many of those involve something as important as the 24/7 care of a human life?  I have a wonderful group of mom friends, and when we get together, do you know what the bulk of our conversations are about?  Yep….parenting.  How to be better.  How to help our children read and write and sleep better and not be brats and potty train and stop whining and be unselfish and share and grow to be wonderful, productive members of society who care for their fellowman.  Okay, maybe it’s not always worded like that, but that truly is the intent.  And yet, most of us only have a few years of experience.  Maybe it’s not such a bad idea for us to take a class on how to be better at the most important job we will ever have.  I have found that I have drawn many helpful truths out of the almost 100 hours I have spent in these classes, and am wondering if maybe, in all the frustration of going through “the system”—maybe they have this part right.  And maybe we can all take a step back and be more open to accepting help and seeking out answers from those who have gone before us and have tread that water.  Why are we trying to reinvent the wheel every minute of the day?  I’m grateful for this adoption experience for so many reasons, but one of the big reasons is that I have been forced to learn and to be more open.  I’m not cured, but I’m better for having lived it and for embracing what I have to do and seeing the great benefits, and I think letting my carefree child jump off big cement dolphins is maybe part of what makes me a good mom.

The Thing About Waiting....

“Of all the hardships a person had to face, none was more punishing than the simple act of waiting.”  This is a favorite quote from the book “A Thousand Splendid Suns” that sums up our entire fertility treatment and adoption process.  My friend, Genie, pointed it out to me one time in reference to our long, tiring quest to have a child.  Not to compare my challenges with those of Miriam’s in the book, but it is such a beautiful, concise statement that is so eternally true. It has been almost nine months since we have been back on the list to adopt again through San Diego County Adoptions.  It has been almost two years since we finalized D’s adoption, and we started pretty soon after jumping through the hoops to get back on the list.  It took six months to get everything finished, and seven more months before we could get our final interviews and home visits.  Two months later, those were finally processed and we were back on the list in January of this year.  I suspect it will be about another year before we get a call.  I hope and pray that it is sooner, but mostly I hope and pray for the right child (or children) for us at the right time.  

(As always, all my poems and artwork are copyrighted!
Please don't use without permission.)

Why is waiting so hard?  I’ve decided that I can handle just about anything if I know there is an end to it.  If someone told me the exact date I would be given a child, then I could have handled the years of waiting more easily.  You would know how much time you had to pursue something else, or to tie up loose ends, or that you could save all that money you spent on pregnancy tests, and you would know exactly when to start getting excited.  It would still be hard to wait, but it would be much, much easier.  The worst thing about not knowing is not knowing.  Five minutes before your trial is over feels just like five years before because you don’t know the difference.  We’ve all waited for something--maybe a job offer, or a wedding proposal, or a raise, or acceptance to graduate school, or a call from the doctor to say you are in remission.  It’s the fear of the unknown that gets us.  We want to know—it is human nature.  We want to know what we are dealing with so we can plan and prepare and have some control.  And we know whenever that thing we are waiting for decides to finally arrive, that we will be so relieved or happy or excited and we will be able to move forward instead of feeling like we are in limbo.  I’ve learned, though, that strangely, the greatest lessons are taught during those times of waiting, much more so than at the moment we are granted that thing we so desire.  And so, we wait.  But, it’s different now.  Instead of crying and stressing over each childless day ticking by, I have decided that this time around, I will enjoy walking the path, and I will pay attention to everything along the way, and I will be grateful that I’m walking this path with the sweet hand of a vibrant, little black-haired tank of a three-year-old boy holding my hand.  I wrote and illustrated this poem about him.  It captures so much the way I see him.  His name actually means “son of the sea”.  It was one of the things that sold me on his name, and I have found that it is very fitting.  He is difficult to tame and a little unruly at times, but magnificent and strong, and I am in awe when I stand with him, as I am with the ocean.  We are enjoying every minute together.  And as much as I want another child, and want him to have a sibling (or two) with whom he can share his life, I know that if that doesn’t happen, we have been blessed beyond measure to at least have him.  That said, we still stand on the shore and wait…

Obviously, We All Feel Differently About Adoption--Another Person's Thoughts on My Thoughts

I was wondering what to write about next, when I was "blessed" with a fairly scathing e-mail today sent to my Etsy account, which is where I have my adoption artwork up for sale (www.etsy.com/shop/studioscumble).  (I am including the e-mail below for your thoughts (of course I will keep her name confidential)).  I have been contemplating how to respond to her, but I think I have decided to be short and sweet for a few reasons.  First, an heated exchange via e-mail is not what I think is most beneficial.  Second, I feel if the wording had been a little less aggressive--a little less of a personal attack, then I would feel much more comfortable explaining my reasonings behind each of her concerns.  But as written, I have decided that there is no need to justify any of these things to her.  I am very open about our adoption process (and most things in my life) and I rarely, if ever, get offended by any comments that come from a sincere desire to know what I was thinking or why I made a choice, even if you whole-heartedly disagree with me. I understand that everyone's experiences are different, and everyone's feelings are different.  I wish she understood that, too.  Here are her words in italics. 

Hi there, I joined Etsy just so I could write to you. I really like your illustrations and your heartfelt desire to write a book and create illustrations expressing all the complexity of your feelings, but I feel a real urgency to plead with you not to share these with your child (or any adopted child for that matter). The child does not need to feel that "pain" and "grief" are a part of his or her coming into the world. They do not need to know that you "suffered" (presumably with fertility issues, making him or her a "second" choice), He or she does not need to think that you are "saving" him or her or that he or she is "saving" them! Gosh, that whole "saving" thing is a huge burden for a child! Even the term "gave me up" for adoption is a phrase no social worker or any worker in the field of adoption would encourage you to use. ("made an adoption plan" is much more positive). The one that really got to me, and the one I came across on Pinterest and actually gasped out loud was the one about "choices both good and BAD" brought us here! Why would you tell your child that? Your child does not need the burden of "bad" things brought them into the world. They certainly don't need to hear their birthmother disparaged (presumably she's the one who made "bad" choices!). Sheesh, this is all adoption 101. Have you not had your adoption education/home study yet? You need to talk to an adoption specialist about the appropriate language to use, and the ideas that you plant in your child's mind and heart by the way you talk about the way your family was formed. Save your fertility grief to discuss with your partner, a counsellor or other adults in your life. Your child does not need to carry the burden of your grief, nor does she need to think that he or she was a second choice. Your child does not need to know that you "mourned great loss" before he or she came along. This i! s all ut terly inappropriate for a child. Any child. (Incidentally, why do you refer to the child as "he"?) Your feelings are all perfectly legitimate, but they are totally inappropriate, even deeply harmful, for your child. Where is the joy? Where is the happiness? Where is the celebration of your forming a family? THIS is what your child needs to hear. They do not need to carry the burden of your griefs.

Now, I don't agree with everything I read about adoption, but then there are so many types of adoptions--so many combinations of kids and new parents and levels of pain and joy that no one poem or thought is going to encompass them all.  The one thing I will refute here that I felt was an over-riding theme in her words, was the idea that we should not share the negative things about our children's adoption stories with them.  I think kids, age-appropriately, need to know the good, the bad and the ugly.  I believe by the time they are in their late teens (again, appropriate to their age and personal development) that there should be no secrets, and they should know their whole story.  Anyone that has had secrets kept from them or been lied to, knows that dealing with the facts is much easier than dealing with lies or half-truths.  It may be hard at first, but if handled with love and compassion, it allows that child to understand, cope with it, and move forward much more easily than if they ever feel betrayed by us, the parents who are supposed to love them the most.  As always, I welcome any comments, either publicly here on this blog, or through a private message.

DNA is the Least of Which Makes Us a Family.



Our Sweet Son.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what makes a family.  In some ways explaining how babies are made is a little easier than explaining how families are made these days.  The basic principle of how to make a baby is the same.  Somewhere along the line, a sperm and an egg have to meet up and do their thing.  Babymaking 101.  But families....well, that’s a different story.  

DNA is the least of which makes us a family.   It took a long time for me to understand that.  Truth be told, I was worried that I didn’t have the capacity for the kind of love that I thought should accompany motherhood, and I was afraid that if there wasn’t a blood connection, that I might not be capable of developing that level of love for a child.  That's a story for another time.  Of course, I was wrong.  Sometimes you think you should feel great love for someone or something that doesn’t exist yet, and that should precede it.  But, I’ve learned that sometimes (and probably more often than not) being thrown into the fire is what brings on those feelings.  If we waited to feel love, or to feel adequate, before we did something, we would never do anything.



An original poem/print of mine expressing this very thought.

So what makes a family?  It’s a question adoptive families are really forced to conscientiously analyze and draw their own conclusions.  As I was reviewing the definition of “family”, I was interested to see that the word originated from the Latin “famulus”, which means “servant”.  At first I thought that was a little odd, but think about it.  Don’t we love the things most which required the most effort on our part?  Don’t we value a degree for which we worked our tail off more than anything that was just handed to us?  I think we love our kids so much because we put so much into them, because we serve them so often.  By the time a child is born, so many sacrifices have already been made.  They literally feed off their biological mother’s body for nine months before arriving into mortality through a most difficult birthing process that takes so much out of that mother.  And if you adopt, you know that lots of work and sweat and tears and waiting went into the process long before you take that beautiful child home.  It might not have been as physically painful, but trust me when I say it was long and tedious and taxing in its own way.  And as these children grow, we serve them every day in so many ways.  Sometimes we see “service” as a negative.  It did, after all, derive from the word for “slavery”.  But I think service brings us greater joy than we give it credit for.

So, is it servitude that makes a family?  In some ways, I think it is.  But, not in a bad way.  What I really think, though, is that it is the commitment that we willingly pledge to a relationship that creates those bonds.  Covenants make us family.  Ultimately, I say that the ones who treat you like family are your family.  There are many people to which we have blood ties that don’t treat us like family.  And there are many people to which we have no familial DNA connection that love and serve us unconditionally as family should.  They become our family through an adoption of sorts, and we love them as much as we have the capacity to love anyone.  My husband and I are the ones who made the commitment to D in front of God and country, signing the paper saying that we will take him as our own.  We are the ones who carried him home and fed and bathed him and took him to the doctor when he was sick.  We are the ones who cuddled and nurtured him when he was so incredibly small and helpless.  We are the ones who wake up with him in the middle of the night when he’s upset and dry the tears and pat him back to sleep.  We are the ones who taught him how to ride his little bike and fly a kite and how to make pancakes.   We are the ones who teach him words and laugh at the funny things he does and take him to the library and the zoo and the park and to the airport just to sit and watch the planes come and go.  We are the ones who lie awake at night praying for his safety, and praying to know how we can be better parents and guide him down a path that will bring him the most joy.  I am his mother.  John is his father.  He is our son.  We are family.  We serve each other like family.  We treat each other like family, and therefore, we are a family.

The Five Children We Didn't Take Home

It occurred to me that maybe I should explain the subtitle of this blog, “Inspired by the process, the children and the lessons learned.”  I think it’s mostly self-explanatory, but I wanted to share with you why I used "children" as a plural form, and not just "child", beings we only have one child.  If you read my post about our first adoption that failed, then you might think it’s just referring to these two special children.  But there are more children that have been a part of this process, and that I often think about and wonder how they are doing.

 If you haven’t been through the adoption process (and especially through social services) you may think that the process goes something like this:  You finish your application and then one day, you get a call telling you to come get your baby.  You go get your baby and go home to your new life.  I’m sure that does happen with some adoptions, but through social services, it can be quite different.  You might be surprised to know that we actually turned down five different children before we accepted D.  Often, I think people assume that we are so desperate for a child, that when the call comes in, we jump.  And maybe losing our little Isaac affected that spontaneity a little bit, as he was the first placement call we ever had, and we did jump at the chance to take him home.  But after being burned, the next calls that came in required a lot more thought and reasoning as to what would be right for us.  It is hard to jump in when you know the reality is that you might not get to keep this child.  But to keep a long story a little shorter, I want to tell you about the five sweet children that came before D.  (I have left out their names here for privacy—you never know who might know them!).

 1. Almost a year to the day of losing little Isaac, we got a call about a baby boy who had been removed from his home and was being put into a concurrent planning adoption.  I wanted him so much.  I had really wanted a baby boy to fill the void of losing Isaac.  But, something the social worker said scared us.  His mother had almost lost his older sister to adoption because of her drug use and her unwillingness to comply with what the county was requiring.  And then, at the last possible time, she pulled it together and got her girl back.  And even though that girl was no longer in her mother’s care (her grandmother had guardianship) the county judged each case individually, and she would have the same opportunity with this little boy.  Our social worker said something like “I just want to warn you that we think this adoption will go through, but this mother might be slow out of the gate and then pull it together at the last minute.”  “Slow out of the gate.”  That has stuck with me to this day.  There wasn’t even a question.  John and I said no, knowing we could just not handle another rollercoaster ride like we had before.

 2.  Just a couple of weeks later, we got a call about an 18 month old little girl.  It was the morning of Christmas Eve 2008 when we went in for the telling (the telling is where you meet with the social workers and they tell you everything they know about the child, and then you decide if you want to move forward).  On paper, this looked like a perfect match, and I still can’t tell you why we didn’t take her.  The parents’ rights had been terminated.  It was zero risk.  But, it didn’t feel right.  John and I looked at each other and just both knew it wasn’t the child for us.  It was a shock for me, as I had so desperately wanted a child, and had hoped one would have already come in the year after we lost Isaac.  But, she wasn’t ours.  We knew she belonged in to someone else.

 3.  In March, I was in L.A. working on a project, when right in the middle of it, with the worst timing possible, came the call for a safe surrender baby girl.  She had been dropped off at the hospital and we could pick her up the next day from the hospital.  I wanted her so badly!  I called John and we had several conversations over the course of the next few hours.  We had to make a decision fast, as she was an emergency placement.  Ann gave us until the next morning.  I tried my hardest to talk John into it, but he wouldn’t have it.  In hindsight, I can understand and sympathize, but I was so upset at the time.  And I was a few hours away, so we couldn’t discuss it face to face (which might have been a blessing!).  He just felt it was too risky.  In California, safe surrender moms get a bracelet with their baby’s information on it, and they have a window of time to come back and change their minds.  And even if the paperwork gets filed to terminate the rights, I’ve been told that until it’s all final, that they have a good chance of being able to get that baby back.  And with an unknown father, who might become aware of his baby being born in the near future, there were just too many risks for John.  I made him call Ann and tell her we weren’t taking her.  I was too heartbroken to make the call.  We worked through it, but it was one of the bigger arguments we’d had in a while.

 4. & 5.  The last two kids were a sibling group we were offered the same month D was born, unbeknownst to us.  It was May, and we got the call about a 1 ½ year old little girl and her 2 ½ year old brother.  I was really excited at the opportunity for two!  I mean, let’s just get on with building our family already!  Oddly enough, even with the risks, John and I were both immediately on board and excited.  They had been in the system for a year after being removed from their home because of domestic issues, and their accessibility to drugs.  The father was in prison, and I don’t remember what was going on with the mother.  We did the telling and saw their sweet little pictures.  We were given the weekend to decide, and one of the things you are required to do before deciding to move forward is talk to the child’s (or childrens’) foster mom so you are fully aware of their current state and any difficulties they may be having.  Well, to condense the story, the foster mom told us she didn’t think the children’s grandparents were aware they would be going up for adoption and that there might be a problem there.  So, we addressed this issue with the social worker, who in turn did some research and found out that there was some planning in place by family members to place these kids with a friend, should they ever be placed for adoption.  It was a big mess, so we pulled out until it was all sorted out.  They told us that if they came back up for adoption after everything was sorted out, that we would be the first couple they called, but for now, we were back on the list again.  We were pretty sad about it.  I was really excited to welcome two kids home, even though I knew it would be a challenge, to say the least.  But it wasn’t meant to be.

About six weeks later, at the beginning of July, we got THE call—the one that would ultimately give us our sweet little boy.  Seven children later (including our little Isaac) we finally got to keep one—the one meant for us.  I do believe that everything happens for a reason, and even though we didn’t take these five kids, I know even having the chance to think about them and their circumstances blessed our lives in some way.  I still think about all six of those sweet, innocent children, all caught in some kind of craziness that never was their fault.  I wonder what their lives are like today, and wish the best for them.  I hope we don’t have to wait through six more children before we get the next one, but if we do, I know we’ll learn great lessons from them, too.

****ADDENDUM***  This addition to this post was inspired by Kristina's comment below.  One of the things that comes with being open about adopting is the regular "offers" to take a baby.  Sometimes it's a birthmother's well-meaning friend or family member, or someone that just hears about a situation, but I'm not sure I can even remember how many times someone contacted us about taking a baby and it fell through every time.  I know it's a difficult decision for birthmothers, but it is also difficult being on the other end thinking you are going to get a baby, and then suddenly the rug is ripped out from under you at the last minute.  I learned quickly to be cautiously optimistic.  I always expressed interest, but knowing how many of these never come to fruition, I learned to not even get excited.  I would just say, "let me know when the baby arrives and they are signing the papers."  We had a sister of a coworker, friends of friends, a phone call with a birthmother the day she gave birth swearing we were the ones and less than 24 hours later a family member had taken her and we never heard from anyone again.  We had one that wanted us to come to the doctor's visits and be a part of everything, but we had just lost our first baby and I had reason to suspect she wasn't all that sure about this decision, so a few months after saying we would wait until later in the process, we never heard anything else again (I'm pretty sure she kept that baby).  We had friends with more distant connections to a birthmother....oh, if I had a dollar for every time someone was absolutely sure we were getting that baby....well, I'd have a little extra spending cash.  So, I suppose it's not just the baby we lost and the five we didn't get to take home for different reasons--there are more babies out there who taught us lessons and were a part of this process.  At least a dozen, and if I stopped and really thought about it, probably more.  Patience is a virtue, right?  I still try to be optimistic, but sometimes it's hard to not get annoyed when someone is so sure that a baby is coming to us and just can't understand why we aren't thrilled.  They will continue to insist it will happen and want us to get excited.  Believe me, when it happens, no body will be more excited than I will be, but I can't live on the edge of those emotions 24/7, so I hope you will understand if I temper my excitement until the baby is in my arms and the papers are signed.  And then I can afford to break down and cry with happiness.