I know I’m not the only one out there carrying on a love-hate
relationship with Facebook. Sometimes it
drives me completely insane and I’m *this close* to pushing the “delete account”
button. Well… maybe not *this close*. Not close enough to know if there is such a
button, or what it is actually called.
But close. Quite close.
Other times I really don’t know what I would do without it. It is an instant lifeline to my immediate
family, all over 300 miles away, and my best friends who are scattered across
the country and the world. Yup, it’s true,
I have a bestie in Siberia.
Never did I think I would be able to honestly say that Facebook has
shaped my future and the course of my daughter’s life. First, I’d have had to get over the “daughter”
part. A year ago today, I still hadn’t
even heard her name. But once she entered
my life, BECAME my life, it wasn’t long before Facebook took on a much bigger
role in my life than a place to share vacation photos, solicit dinner ideas,
and run public opinion polls.
When we chose to enter a domestic infant adoption program, we learned
that 95% of domestic adoptions in the US today are “open” to some degree. “Open adoption” runs the gamut from letter
and picture exchange every couple years, facilitated by the adoption agency, to
live-in arrangements in rare cases! The relationships are all so unique, and
more than once I laid awake at night wondering, stressing, and dreaming about
my future relationship with my future baby’s birth family.
Two things I want to put out there before I get to the joy and peace I
have been blessed with through the open relationship we share today with
members of Libby’s birth family. First, “open
adoption” is not a concept Tim and I were able to come to terms with
overnight. It took time, research, and
lots of prayer. It used to terrify
me. Even today it’s still a little scary
from time to time. But it’s been such a
great experience in my life to dive headfirst into something that scares me,
and then watch it blossom.
Second, I’m going to write about what is working for US. Not that I think every adoptive family should
push the buttons we’re pushing. Not that
I think it’s possible, or practical, or even safe for all adoptive families to
pursue a close, personal relationship.
But what we are doing works for us.
It is beautiful and powerful.
People are baffled and curious and deeply inspired by it. I am SO proud of it, and I want to share
about it.
And so, at long last, our open adoption story…
When we first filled out our Openness Preferences for our adoption
agency during the Home Study process, we had come to a point where we felt able to
say “yes,” with very few reservations, to phone calls, e-mails, Skype, and
occasional visits. But Facebook?
Facebook got a “maybe.” I wanted to post pictures and updates of my sweet
future baby. I didn’t want to have to
analyze every post to decide if it was birth-family-appropriate. Like I said, I depend upon Facebook maybe a
little more than most people for communication and honest self-expression,
because of how far removed I am from my family and closest friends. So I was not sure how ready I felt to begin
censoring my thoughts and feelings for a birthmom I’d never met.
Well, wouldn’t you know it, our first contact came in a Facebook
message. It happened while we were in
California the first time, at Gene and Dede’s house, meeting Elizabeth and
getting ready to bring her home. We had
posted just a few pictures of our precious girl, and the response had been
overwhelming. Messages of love and
encouragement piled up on my wall and in my inbox faster than I could possibly
respond. Friend requests poured in from friends of friends who
wanted to see her and follow our journey.
In the midst of all the crazy, in came two requests from people I didn’t
know. They looked nice enough, and the
last names were common enough that I figured they must have a connection to
someone I know. I clicked on their pages
to dig a little more. I saw where they
were from. It took a little longer than
I’d like to admit for me to figure it out… they were the birth family.
I called out to Dede and showed her the name and pictures. “Yup, that’s
them!” It was birthmom’s mom (“L”) and grandma (“J”). My stomach
flip-flopped. I wasn’t ready for this! What
did they want? And why FACEBOOK?!?!? The ONE means of communication I had
reservations about.
We didn’t do anything right away.
We went for a hike and cleared our heads. We decided we weren’t ready. We would message them and share e-mail
addresses and phone numbers. And we
would quickly check our privacy settings! So we returned to the house and,
without accepting the friend request, I clicked “message” on “L’s” page. And there it was:
-----------------------------
Hi Megan :)
Wanted to thank you and your husband – you truly seem like a gift from
God, as are Dede and Gene. Anything you
need, please ask! God bless,
“L”
P.S. “A’s” mom :)) xoxo
-------------------------------
Wow. Seriously? My STUPID phone had been
so overwhelmed with Facebook notifications, it forgot to tell me I had this
beautiful, VERY important message. Well,
THAT might have saved me a lot of stress. THEY are
thanking ME? Seriously? Do they know how gorgeous Libby is and how
overwhelmingly grateful I feel toward THEM?
After I responded back to both “L” and “J” (who had sent a similarly
perfect message) with our e-mail addresses and phone numbers, this is what I
got back from “L”:
--------------------------------
… “A” has also seen both of your pages and is so happy that Elizabeth is
with you. She is proud of herself for
doing the right things in this difficult teenage world. We would love and appreciate any pictures or
updates from you without interrupting your new family…
---------------------------------
Click. “Accept Request.” I knew I loved them all already. Something told me I could trust this family,
despite how little I knew about them. Something
told me we would all be okay - BETTER than okay. Something told me that this was the start of
something really special for Libby’s future, and rather than focus on fear and
doubt, I should embrace this crazy opportunity to build a relationship that
could, in turn, build my daughter’s character, self-worth, and her future.
The first month was nothing too crazy.
“L” and “J” were always good for a “like” on pictures of Libby, and an
occasional comment… “so sweet”… “what a cutie”… “gift from God.”
Later in June, “A” (Libby’s birthmom) felt ready to join in. She stood back a bit, in comparison with her
mom and grandma, but she was there, supporting our journey. Her friendship and her approval meant so much
to me. It meant she was still happy with
the choice she had made for Libby. Not
only that, she was happy for ME as a mother.
The first private message I got from her dissolved me into a sobbing
mess as I read it again and again:
-----------------------------------
I love her a lot, but honestly… I look at it like I had her so you
could have her… It’s so nice not to question whether or not I did the right
thing when I see in pictures how happy you guys are and especially how happy
she is…
-----------------------------------
Sigh. She really is
wonderful. Jump ahead to April 2013 and –
spoiler alert – I can truly say now, after having met her in person and watched
her interact with the little girl that bonds us together, that “A” is truly one
in a million. I would do just about anything
to protect her, and I will love her and defend her until the day I die.
As summer marched on, we took a BIG step and exchanged physical
addresses so that I could mail them one of Libby’s adorable adoption
announcements. We also began to accept
more Facebook relationships with people who were not immediate birth family
members: co-workers, best friends, family, and other major players in Libby’s
journey from hospital to Gene and Dede, and finally into my waiting arms.
In September we were pleased (and more than a little shocked) when
birthdad, “S”, Facebook-friended us. We
had known very little about him until that point, and so I set into
Facebook-creeper-mode and soaked up all I could. Sorry, “S” :) After only knowing him through hearsay and
the small amount of information he provided to the adoption agency, it was
refreshing to see pictures and updates from him, and to see him join in the
Libby Lovefest that was alive and well on Facebook. I could see that he cared about her, which
made me care about him and think a lot more about where he had been coming from
through all of this.
Also in September, we got to see Gene and Dede again. Although they’re not birth family, they were her
FIRST family, and will always be beloved grandparents to Libby, her Nanny and
Pops. I’ve written a lot about them
before, and although today I’m mainly focused on the birth family, I’d be remiss
to leave Gene and Dede out of Libby’s “Open Adoption” story. They gave her the best and brightest start in
life, and their continued presence in our family’s story only makes it more
unique and more beautiful.
In November we celebrated Libby’s first birthday. The cards and gifts and Facebook greetings
did. not. stop for days. In the week
leading up to November 3, as I cooked and cleaned for a big celebration, my
mind was constantly on “A,” and all she had been going through a year
earlier. Tim and I picked out a piece of
November birthstone jewelry to send her, to show her how important we consider
her to be as a part of Libby’s past AND future.
On the big day itself, my brain was mush as I dealt with my own emotions,
threw Tim a surprise 30th birthday party, and kept thinking all day
about Gene, Dede, and the birth family… just one short year ago. How all our lives had changed so much!
As autumn wore on, and the NFL season with it, our relationships grew
stronger through friendly competition.
We Redfields are easy enough – we’re a Packer family through and
through. But “L” is a Bears fan, “J”
loves the Steelers, “L’s” husband “R” pulls for the Rams, and extended friends
covered the Broncos, Niners, and I MUST be leaving someone out. Tensions ran high as, week after week, the
Packers faced a favorite team of SOMEONE we now knew through Libby. But our greatest triumph came when we saw a
family picture of all of them decked out in their own team colors, and “A” –
who had never chosen a side – was looking gorgeous in GREEN AND GOLD, BABY!!!
While she may be more Team Libby than Team Lombardi… we’ll take it!
As winter settled in, Tim and I began to hyper-analyze how soon would
be “too soon” to extend the invitation to meet in person, during the trip to
California we were planning for April.
We didn’t want to come across as complete psychopaths, but we had
already bought our plane tickets in early November, and were just dying to know
if they would like to be a part of our life… our REAL life, not just our
Facebook life.
When we finally felt it was reasonable to ask in January, three months
ahead, we were greeted with warmth and enthusiasm. It all seemed so easy. Sure, let’s meet, let’s have dinner, what’s
your favorite food? It left me wondering why it was all so easy, and when it
would all fall to pieces. Come on, now,
I’ve read the books, I’ve heard the stories, I’ve prepared for this day. Open adoption is NOT supposed to come this
easy or feel so natural. We must be
doing something wrong.
And on Wednesday, April 3, I finally learned where Facebook had let me
down. A nervous wreck, I navigated Tim
the 15 short miles from the home of family friends we were visiting, to the
home of “A,” “L,” and “R.” I drew a deep breath to pull myself together before
walking to the front door. The breath
was cut short as “L” came running into the driveway with open arms, followed
closely by “A.” I heard their voices, saw their smiles grow, and squeezed them
tight for the first time. Emotions
surged through all of us in our own ways.
This was real. This was
happening. THIS is what had been
missing, what Facebook could never have given me.
The night was perfectly imperfect.
I awkwardly wondered how soon to pass Libby to “A” without forcing
her. Then “S” (birthdad) dropped by for
half an hour and waited less than a minute to ask to hold her. She cried.
He tried again. She cried
again. I just thought it was incredibly
sweet. He asked questions about her
vision and her hair color and what she eats.
“A” just sat to the side quietly, taking it all in. I can’t imagine what was going through her
head. The only thing I could clearly
read was LOVE. Incredible love and
admiration for the beautiful child and the happy family she had helped to
create.
Later, “A” ate her dinner in the living room close to Libby, separated by a fireplace
from the rest of us in the dining room.
Libby played with a few toys on the floor, happily bobbing
her head from side to side, oblivious to the enormity of what was happening
around her. Twenty feet away, I drank
wine and ate the world’s yummiest risotto and joked with “L” like I had known
her all my life. I watched from the
corner of my eye as “A” slid closer and closer down the couch toward Libby,
then moved onto the floor, played with her, took pictures of her, and wiped her
runny nose. That nose-wipe made me cry a
little. That nose-wipe said, “I may not
be your mommy, but I love you to pieces.”
“A” seemed to get more comfortable as the night wore on, but I knew the
night had been an emotional one for her.
It had been easy enough on Facebook to believe that we were all living
some sort of “happily ever after.” But seeing “A” work through some serious
emotions that night, the good with the bad, finally gave me the closure and the
connection with her that I had been searching for. She was just like me! At times this whole
journey has been Facebook-perfect, but other times it’s been really, really
hard. Through it all, God has used all
of us together to shape His perfect will.
And we have begun to love each other for that.
After a few (far too short) days visiting Gene and Dede on the coast,
we returned to the Sacramento area to have dinner with “A’s” grandma “J” and
grandpa “R.” More tears. More joy. More love.
I instantly felt at home in the single most beautiful house I have ever
stepped foot in. Again, Facebook had
brought us pretty far. I felt like I
already knew them. But the tight hugs,
the wonder in their eyes as Libby sat and played, and an absolutely perfect
steak :) made it all so much more real.
I caught Tim’s eye several times that night. Once it was, “Can you believe how awesome
this wine is?” Once it was, “Someday we WILL watch a Packer game from this
pool.” But many more times it was, “WOW. We are so blessed.”
Sometimes I forget just how unique and special these relationships
really are, because they fell into our lives so naturally. Then I watch the jaws drop as I tell people I
just spent a week in California meeting my daughter’s birth family, and I
remember how crazy all of us must actually seem. We are quite a bunch. In a short amount of time we have begun to
create a new little family centered around a very special little girl. A little adopted girl who will have easy
access when she needs to ask questions and needs validation. A little girl who will always be able to
clearly see that her birth story was never one of rejection, but of pure,
unselfish love.
Tuesday the 9th was our last day in California. We had been going nonstop for a solid week,
we had met everyone we hoped to meet, and we were exhausted. But Tim and I agreed that we just HAD to see “A”
one last time. In the bright morning
sun, we loaded in the van again: Libby in pajamas, me in running clothes, Tim
showered and ready for the day.
Natural. That’s how you’d find the
three of us pretty much any day at home at 9 a.m.
We chatted over coffee about our time with Gene and Dede. “A” talked more than the first night, after a
week to process everything and draw closure from our first night together. We decided to take a walk down by the lake
and enjoy the beautiful day. I’m so glad
we did. that morning will be a very
special memory to me for a long time. When we got back to the van, “L” and “A” gave Libby sweet goodbye hugs
and kisses. “A” held on long and
tight. Then we took a few last pictures,
and then she hugged her some more.
Goodbye for now, but not forever.
“A” and her family will be in our hearts and our lives for a long, long
time. I believe God has big, big plans
for my little Libby Joy. I think she’ll
be a concert pianist. Her daddy wants to
run marathons with her. And I feel so
blessed that not only has God given me the gift of this perfect little girl, but also the amazing
opportunity to know the young woman who loved her first and gave her life. Not just to chit-chat on Facebook – to hear
her voice. Not just to know her in
pictures – to know her embrace.
So that’s our open adoption story… for now :) It’s ever-evolving. To any of you who made it through the whole
thing in one sitting, I salute you, and I hope you have been touched in some
small way by these wonderful people that I think the world of.
