The idea of adoption was always something that fascinated me as a child. I remember telling my mom once that I wanted her to adopt me a sister. I knew the process existed from books and movies, but I didn't personally know anyone who was adopted, or who had adopted. Or I didn't know that I knew anyone... does that make sense? Even 20 short years ago, domestic adoption was still generally a very "closed" process shrouded in mystery, secrecy, and fear. Maybe that's why I thought it was so "cool"... I did love a good mystery story! I kept the "Nancy Drew" and "Goosebumps" sections of the library pretty busy.
As I grew older and met a person or two who had personal experience with the process, it fascinated me more. I never considered that it would touch my own life, but I was still very intrigued. Everyone seemed to have such a different story, experience, outlook. I still thought the process was very "cool," because I had the luxury of looking at it as an outsider. I could look at all the positive aspects of living in an adoptive family, and ignore all the sadness and pain that can come along with it. Sure, I knew they were there... we all assume there's a lot of scariness and risk involved, we just don't have to think about how we would deal with it personally.
Once we had been trying to start a family for over a year, I started planning my big "adoption" talk with Tim. For me, I knew it was the logical next step. I was totally comfortable with it, just as "in love" with the idea as I had always been. I was worried, though, that Tim might not see it that way. Adoption isn't for everyone, and both parents must be fully on board before even considering it. So one night in late 2009, frustrated and emotional, I cracked him open a beer, snuck up behind him with a bear hug, and asked if we could talk.
At this point neither of us had seen a doctor to try to figure out what was going on. I had heard most doctors require you to "try" for a year, and we were at about 14 months. I hadn't been able to bring myself to see anyone, because I was worried about what I'd hear. I was worried I'd hardly introduce myself to a doctor before I broke into tears. I was worried about money. I was worried about who the doctor would be. (Turns out, I'm pretty sure he was Ben Stein. Uncanny resemblance, same voice, same mannerisms. And I survived.) I'm so frustrated NOW that I waited so long, wallowing in worry, rather than casting my anxiety upon the Lord, biting the bullet, and starting the process. If I had seen a doctor at that magical "one-year" mark, we'd probably have started the adoption process an entire year earlier. Grrrrrrr.
So the hug in the kitchen... I told Tim we needed to get started with doctors soon, maybe in January once our deductibles reset. I wanted to try medical for one full year (2010, presumably), and then begin the adoption process in 2011 if nothing had happened. I knew right away what his answer would be because I saw joy and relief wash over his face when I mentioned adoption. He was just like me. He wanted a child, and adoption would answer that prayer.
Blah, blah, blah, excuse, excuse, excuse, we didn't start "doctoring" until July of 2010. I started the process extremely hopeful, feeling better than I had in years. Surely the doctor would find SOMETHING. And if not, we had adoption in our back pocket as a "back-up plan." At that time, I would have called it that to anyone that asked. I considered it an option, but a second-best option. Like taking a gravel road compared to the interstate, both leading to the exact same destination.
My "doctoring" phase ended in March of 2011 when a 6-month run of the aforementioned crabby-tired-sweaty medication ended. At that point, a lot of tests had ruled out a lot of potential problems, but no specific solution had been found. We had climbed about a third of the way up the medical mountain. The next third of the mountain involved more complex, more expensive procedures. Not the ethically-questionable ones yet, those are reserved for the top third of the mountain. But the middle third would challenge us financially and emotionally, and we already felt pretty exhausted in both those departments. Would this "middle third," although not ethically-questionable, be stewardship-questionable? It was not guaranteed to work, in fact we had been told it would probably take several more attempts. For us, a couple who already loved the idea of adoption, wouldn't that be a much better use of our time and energy?
Again, I MUST make sure you know we do not think our path is for everyone, and the only acceptable solution after failing the first couple tests and medications. I have many dear friends who have struggled with the same things I have, and I would hate for them to think I believe they are WRONG for not having done what we did. I respect everyone's right to take this journey as they need to. It would be a horrible mistake to enter into the adoption process not excited about it or feeling ready for it. Because once you're in it, it can go so, so fast, and you could have a child in your home before you're truly "ready" or comfortable with the situation.
Even for us... I thought we were "ready" but quickly found out we weren't. We had a lot to learn, still a little more grieving to do, and then lots more to learn. As soon as we announced we were adopting, I heard from about a million people that they knew someone who had started the adoption process and then gotten pregnant. "Just wait, the same thing will happen for you." And I admit, that hope flickered with in for a couple weeks. I KNEW people that had happened to, and it seemed logical enough. Lift the stress, and whammo! Preggers!
After a couple weeks of our exhausting, overwhelming "research" phase, I realized I was more fascinated by this process than ever! I was more aware of the risks, the potential pain and heartache, I was more confused than ever by which path to follow BUT I was becoming so committed to it, so excited to see it through. It no longer felt like a "back-pocket" option... it felt like FIRST CHOICE, like reality, like an answer to our prayers, like awesomeness! Yes, it was scary and different and not at all what I expected it to be. There is no "expecting" anything in adoption... it's a roller-coaster no matter how much you try to prepare yourself. But now it felt more like interstate vs. beautiful scenic route - both amazing in their own right, both completely different, both completely valid.
I still had to learn, and it took a couple more months, that these two beautiful paths were NOT leading to the same destination. In the spring and early summer months, our focus was entirely sucked up by big decisions like which agency, which program, where is the money coming from, etc. We planned and plotted every single step leading up to bringing baby home... and it took a few months for things to slow down and my head to stop spinning before I realized that this "process" of adoption does not end when baby comes home. We don't just lay baby in a crib and dress him in the cute outfits his new family bought him for Christmas and forget about everything we've been through. Everything HE'S been through, and WILL GO through. Yes, there will be similarities between our life as adoptive parents, and the life we imagined for many years, as biological parents. Our child's life cannot be ALL about the fact that he's adopted. But that fact remains, and it will be acknowledged, celebrated, and honored throughout his life. We'll have to do a few things differently. It's going to take some extra thought, work and patience over and above what is required of parents of an infant, toddler, TEENAGER (yikes!) But it's going to offer so many unique joys and blessings, as well, that we never would have experienced had our life unfolded the way we "planned."
So that's WHY adoption. Because we believe it is God's answer to our prayer for children. Because we're aware of the challenges, and know that our loving Lord will strengthen us to rise and meet them. Because there is so much we've learned about it, and so much we still have to learn, and we're SO excited to continue on the journey.
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