A look ahead and hard decisions
There are many things rambling in my head that has been on my heart to share. Some of it is rather confusing and others are just on the tip of my tongue. So if this post comes across a bit disconnected, please read with care.
While the application phase of adoption was difficult in that it places potential adoptive families under a microscope with additional scrutiny, many people have shared that waiting is the hardest. What I imagined is that there would be a metaphorical desert or void where I’m sitting in a waiting room with a heart bursting with hope and anticipation just waiting for someone to call my name. Then I would be joined with the child God meant for me to have and life would go on happily ever after. There are indeed those moments when I see social media postings of friends who are on their first or second pregnancies. The sting of those postings have lessened, and congratulatory expressions and sentiments are easier to share because I am sincerely excited for my friends who are now entering this phase of motherhood or parenthood, even if I am not in that season. But another dimension of waiting has found a place in front of me that has made the adoption journey even more real. This is the aspect of letting go of my own dreams of what I imagine my life will be like with my child and discerning when to say “no.”
After I was approved as a qualified waiting family, I met with my adoption agency to discuss in uncomfortable detail what exposures, medical conditions, and characteristics I was open or not open to as a parent. It’s kind of a surreal experience because with biological children, your child is your child no matter what condition or characteristic they come with. So it took some time to wrestle with this feeling that I was shopping for a child, which goes against my every belief in I have that every child deserves a loving family. That means a terminally ill child, a child with deformities, a little boy who’s deaf or blind, or a girl who may have developmental delays should have a place with a family.
The agency I have chosen has been incredible in offering training and information on the types of impacts of various exposures or medical conditions and how that changes the development of a child at various stages of life. They do this to help inform adoptive families given that we do not have control over how the various aspects of the birth mother’s pregnancy may go whether it is due to unexpected or challenging circumstances or something else. It is incredibly intoxicating to dream and picture a child being the age of a new born or cuddly infant for the remainder of their life. But as we all do, newborns turn to infants, infants to toddlers, toddlers to children, and so on. So while some exposures may be temporary and the impacts on the child may be minimal or can be mitigated through specialized interventions, some impacts are lifelong and permanent.
I shared with my agency that given the realities of being a single mother, there are some things that I would feel would make me less of an ideal parent for a child with severe medical needs. But I did ask them to present each possible match and allow me to make the decision after careful consideration. This seemed like a logical and ethical approach when I shared this decision with the agency. But what I didn’t realize was the heaviness of what it would mean to say “no.” And the realization that I must be ready for whatever possibility may come for the child I am eventually joined with.
Three weeks ago, my adoption agency was true to their word and presented a possible match, but there were some circumstances I had to consider. So this brings me to a bus stop conversation the brought me to the realization that while I can have hopes and desires for the kind of experiences I want for my child such as learning to play a musical instrument, or helping them with their first science fair project, or sharing my joy of cycling with them; the main thing that I can promise to provide is love, wisdom, guidance, and my best effort at protecting their life and spirit as they grow into adulthood. As I considered this match, I was faced with the reality that some of my idealized dreams may look very different. There’s nothing wrong with life looking a bit different as we have very little control over how life unfolds. That life will be our normal, and I can have peace in that. And what we do have control over is the perspective we take into each segment of life. But I had to consider some tough questions.
Do I have the emotional, financial, and manpower resources to properly care for this specific child with this set of specialized needs?
If something were to happen to me, does my village have the emotional, financial, and manpower resources to care for this child who will become an adult if I’m not there?
By saying yes or no, am I serving my own desires for a set of expectations and dreams I have for this child?
If I say yes, can I build the larger village I need to help raise and respond to this child’s specific needs?
Heavy stuff right? Yes, and please pass the tissues and a glass of wine.
So that’s the lesson I’ve started to learn that in parenthood we have very little control over many aspects of life, but what we do have is prayer, wisdom, love, patience, and hopefully a village that can help guide and support each part of this little family as our lives move along through time and take shape.
While the application phase of adoption was difficult in that it places potential adoptive families under a microscope with additional scrutiny, many people have shared that waiting is the hardest. What I imagined is that there would be a metaphorical desert or void where I’m sitting in a waiting room with a heart bursting with hope and anticipation just waiting for someone to call my name. Then I would be joined with the child God meant for me to have and life would go on happily ever after. There are indeed those moments when I see social media postings of friends who are on their first or second pregnancies. The sting of those postings have lessened, and congratulatory expressions and sentiments are easier to share because I am sincerely excited for my friends who are now entering this phase of motherhood or parenthood, even if I am not in that season. But another dimension of waiting has found a place in front of me that has made the adoption journey even more real. This is the aspect of letting go of my own dreams of what I imagine my life will be like with my child and discerning when to say “no.”
After I was approved as a qualified waiting family, I met with my adoption agency to discuss in uncomfortable detail what exposures, medical conditions, and characteristics I was open or not open to as a parent. It’s kind of a surreal experience because with biological children, your child is your child no matter what condition or characteristic they come with. So it took some time to wrestle with this feeling that I was shopping for a child, which goes against my every belief in I have that every child deserves a loving family. That means a terminally ill child, a child with deformities, a little boy who’s deaf or blind, or a girl who may have developmental delays should have a place with a family.
The agency I have chosen has been incredible in offering training and information on the types of impacts of various exposures or medical conditions and how that changes the development of a child at various stages of life. They do this to help inform adoptive families given that we do not have control over how the various aspects of the birth mother’s pregnancy may go whether it is due to unexpected or challenging circumstances or something else. It is incredibly intoxicating to dream and picture a child being the age of a new born or cuddly infant for the remainder of their life. But as we all do, newborns turn to infants, infants to toddlers, toddlers to children, and so on. So while some exposures may be temporary and the impacts on the child may be minimal or can be mitigated through specialized interventions, some impacts are lifelong and permanent.
I shared with my agency that given the realities of being a single mother, there are some things that I would feel would make me less of an ideal parent for a child with severe medical needs. But I did ask them to present each possible match and allow me to make the decision after careful consideration. This seemed like a logical and ethical approach when I shared this decision with the agency. But what I didn’t realize was the heaviness of what it would mean to say “no.” And the realization that I must be ready for whatever possibility may come for the child I am eventually joined with.
Three weeks ago, my adoption agency was true to their word and presented a possible match, but there were some circumstances I had to consider. So this brings me to a bus stop conversation the brought me to the realization that while I can have hopes and desires for the kind of experiences I want for my child such as learning to play a musical instrument, or helping them with their first science fair project, or sharing my joy of cycling with them; the main thing that I can promise to provide is love, wisdom, guidance, and my best effort at protecting their life and spirit as they grow into adulthood. As I considered this match, I was faced with the reality that some of my idealized dreams may look very different. There’s nothing wrong with life looking a bit different as we have very little control over how life unfolds. That life will be our normal, and I can have peace in that. And what we do have control over is the perspective we take into each segment of life. But I had to consider some tough questions.
Do I have the emotional, financial, and manpower resources to properly care for this specific child with this set of specialized needs?
If something were to happen to me, does my village have the emotional, financial, and manpower resources to care for this child who will become an adult if I’m not there?
By saying yes or no, am I serving my own desires for a set of expectations and dreams I have for this child?
If I say yes, can I build the larger village I need to help raise and respond to this child’s specific needs?
Heavy stuff right? Yes, and please pass the tissues and a glass of wine.
So that’s the lesson I’ve started to learn that in parenthood we have very little control over many aspects of life, but what we do have is prayer, wisdom, love, patience, and hopefully a village that can help guide and support each part of this little family as our lives move along through time and take shape.
I have no doubt that you will be led to the best decision for all in your village. You’re a strong woman, Denna Lambert.
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