I no longer remember a time when the word ‘adoption’ was not a synonymous with ‘love’. I am a mom for 21 years now, a mom of two beautiful sons- thanks to the miracle of the road that led them to me; adoption. To say it was an easy road would not really be truthful- it was a labor of love-very similar to the labor of childbirth. There is a saying that some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers. I think of that when I think of the road to my boys-one woman praying she did not miss her period, another woman praying she did. That is how it starts you know …and then the two women find inside themselves the strength for the next steps…find each other…and lives are forever changed.
I was never stuck on the idea I needed to be pregnant or be biologically connected to children to love them, to parent them. It surprised me however, that not everyone thought this way. I learned that pretty quickly when I took my sons home and so proudly shared their stories. Some of my friends had also experienced the miracle of adoption and because of what people say, they became hesitant to share their children’'s stories. However, it only made me more determined – it was my way to advocate for adoption and let others know that families formed through adoption are real families, with real parents and real love. Words surrounding adoption can have negative connotations. People say the birthmother ‘gave up’ her baby when the truth is she lovingly placed the baby in another’s arms. They say ‘real’ parents when they mean biological (if you pinch me you will see I am real’.) How about ‘are adopted’ instead of ‘were adopted’? The adoption occurred once; it does not describe them as a person (like you are blue-eyed). Worse is the news media- with these stories of mass murders who, by the way, were adopted.
My sons have known they were adopted from a young age- it was a word we introduced like any other word. Most naturally, they did not understand every aspect of adoption and as they aged and matured, they began to ask very specific questions. Each stage of their lives they'’ve reacted differently to their stories. Very young they thought their birth mothers were rich movie stars; during their teenage years, when they realized sex was involved, they wondered what ‘type’ of girl she was; as they aged out of teenage years, they began to better understand the circumstances of their birth parents and what led them to me. All along the way, I spoke of their birth mothers as strong women who made tough decisions- and did it all for them. I admire these women- and I am so thankful for them- so my boys came to admire them, too.
My older boy, the concrete thinking-the math major- says he is a combination of us both and is confident in the person he has become. At this time, he says he has no wish to find his birth mother. (This I think will change over his lifetime).
My younger boy, the abstract thinker- the art major- says he would like to meet his birth parents to see whom he looks like and ask those questions. When he graduates college, we will together begin his search.
The adoptions were closed, at the request of the birth parents, but I know I will be able to lead him back down that road. I regret that I did not get pictures of their birth parents to give my boys. Adoption was a new experience for me, so I did the best I could to get through the maze of paperwork, etc. never realizing that one day my young adult son would ask me for pictures. I know these women who gave birth to my boys must think of them. I wish they knew they are doing well and are happy. I will not foolishly tell you that raising two boys was easy because adoption makes it ‘different’. Absolutely not! Two year olds and teenagers- tough stuff for any mom! What I will tell you is this: not a day goes by that I don’t feel blessed and so fortunate because of them- I am a better woman because of them. They did more for me that I did for them. Thank you to all those women who make the tough decision to gently place their children in the waiting arms of another woman.