It didn’t feel right for us.
Still reeling from my diagnosis, I wasn’t ready to let go of the dream family I’d imagined for us. Before we even got married, I’d started picturing what our children would be like. I imagined a little girl with my tiny feet and Chris’s freckles; a little boy with Chris’s patience and my green eyes. Those were the children I wanted. The children in the pamphlet, as cute as they were, weren’t the ones I had dreamt about, prayed for and planned.
Still reeling from my diagnosis, I wasn’t ready to let go of the dream family I’d imagined for us. Before we even got married, I’d started picturing what our children would be like. I imagined a little girl with my tiny feet and Chris’s freckles; a little boy with Chris’s patience and my green eyes. Those were the children I wanted. The children in the pamphlet, as cute as they were, weren’t the ones I had dreamt about, prayed for and planned.
I wasn’t ready to let my dream children go.
Plus, adoption scared us.
A lot.
We worried that an adopted child wouldn’t feel like “ours” or that he would end up resenting us because we weren’t his “real” parents.
We worried that an adopted child wouldn’t feel like “ours” or that he would end up resenting us because we weren’t his “real” parents.
We worried we’d end up one of those horror stories on the news, our child ripped from our arms to be returned to a biological family member years after our adoption was complete.
We worried that adoption would mark us as different, that we would never fit in with “normal” families.
We worried that an adopted child would carry physical or emotional scars from orphanage or foster care that we wouldn’t be able to handle.
If I’m being honest, the truth is that becoming an adoptive family didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem fair that we were struggling to have a family. We were "good people who had done all the right things."
We shouldn’t have to give up our dream children.
We shouldn’t have to learn about and embrace a new path to parenthood; a path that was full of challenges we didn’t know how to face.
The truth is, considering adoption filled me with grief and fear. So, like many of us do when confronted with things that make us uncomfortable, I ran as quickly as I could in the other direction. As soon as we got home, I shoved that pamphlet into the junk drawer of my desk, slammed it shut and decided not to think about it again.
And for over a year, I didn’t.
Instead, Chris and I poured all our energy into trying to have a baby. I consulted specialists, had surgery and endured countless examinations and appointments. I prayed every day, begging God to let me get pregnant, but my prayers continued to go unanswered. I felt like a lab rat, trapped in an endless maze of hopeful anticipation and crushing defeat. Then, a year later, it finally happened – I was pregnant! We were so excited and thankful. It had been a long and difficult road, but we were patient and we trusted God and now He was blessing us with the child we’d been dreaming about for so long. We basked in the glow of that pregnancy for three days. Then, once again, the rug was yanked out from under us. My first round of bloodwork raised some red flags. The next round was even more concerning.
Within three weeks, my precious baby was gone.
My miscarriage was one of the most devastating periods of my life. It also turned out to be one of the most important. I spent months grieving the baby we lost. I staggered through tear-filled days and sleepless nights, leaning on God in a way I never had before. I was crushed and heartbroken, but never alone. I knew God was right there with me, providing me comfort, giving me strength and ensuring I never had to face my grief on my own. Then, when I was ready, He put the pieces of my shattered heart back together - and it changed me. I was ready to let go of the dream family I had imagined and embrace the one He had planned. Over a year after I first tucked it away, I was ready to take that pamphlet out of the drawer.
My miscarriage was one of the most devastating periods of my life. It also turned out to be one of the most important. I spent months grieving the baby we lost. I staggered through tear-filled days and sleepless nights, leaning on God in a way I never had before. I was crushed and heartbroken, but never alone. I knew God was right there with me, providing me comfort, giving me strength and ensuring I never had to face my grief on my own. Then, when I was ready, He put the pieces of my shattered heart back together - and it changed me. I was ready to let go of the dream family I had imagined and embrace the one He had planned. Over a year after I first tucked it away, I was ready to take that pamphlet out of the drawer.
Fast forward a decade and Chris and I are now the proud parents of three incredible boys; one adopted from Guatemala and two adopted from Korea. None of them have Chris’s freckles or my eyes – and doesn’t matter. The fact that we aren’t biologically related doesn’t prevent us from loving our kids.
All our fears – about not feeling like a real family, about not fitting in, about not being able to handle the added issues adoption brings – haven’t come true. Our kids are the best things that have ever happened to us and we love them more than we ever imagined. Adoption is part of who we are, but it’s not the defining feature of our family. I don’t wake up every day thinking about it. It’s not something that pops into our heads when we are sitting around the dinner table or playing catch in the backyard. It’s true we face issues biological families do not – like fielding questions from strangers, talking about birth families, exploring our children’s heritage and dealing with racial issues our kids sometimes face. It’s also true that navigating these issues has required us to seek out support and sometimes parent in ways we didn’t think we would. But none of that prevents us from being happy or loving our family or feeling like we are complete.
Adoption isn’t easy and it isn’t for everyone. I’m glad we didn’t rush into adoption after that first meeting. We weren’t ready to adopt and if we’d done it then, it wouldn’t have felt like an incredible blessing. It would have felt like a consolation prize.
If you are battling infertility, I’m not trying to minimize your pain or suggest that the only solution is to adopt. What I am saying to anyone considering expanding your family – whether you are dealing with infertility or not – is to please consider adoption. Don’t just dismiss it as an option without really thinking it through. Definitely don’t run away from it out of grief or fear like I did. Instead, take the time to research it. Talk to adult adoptees and adoptive parents. Read adoption websites and blogs. Attend adoption seminars. Most importantly, pray about it. Educate yourself and remain open to the possibility of what God may be calling you to do.
Our road to parenthood is proof that He can do amazing things when we give Him time to work on our hearts.
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