Dear Friends of Waiting Adoptive Moms: Some Things To
Know by the author at
Wondermentetc.com
1. Your friend is not
crazy. (She is adopting.)
There is, I will admit, a fine line
between those two but still it’s good to remember. The international adoption of
a child requires enough paperwork to kill a small forest. And more governmental
red tape than you can believe. Imagine your longest, most frustrating trip to
the DMV. Now quadruple that, add in twelve more governmental agencies in two
countries, and remember it’s not a driver’s license you’re waiting for but the
final piece of paper that says this family you’re creating can finally, finally
be together. Yeah. Not crazy. But close.
2. She loves a child she’s never
met.
It’s possible. So possible. It’s
irrational and crazy but it’s reality. Does she love them like she will once she
gets to know them? No. But she loves them. She wakes up loving them and goes to
sleep loving them. She drives to the grocery story and aches to have them safe
and snug in the carseat waiting for them. She pushes her cart around the store
and hears a child cry and her heart pounds wondering if her child is crying?
Alone? Hungry? She might even have to leave an entire grocery cart full of food
in the yogurt aisle to go home and cry because it just is too hard. Way too
hard.
3. It’s difficult having your heart on
the other side of the world.
To people on the outside they don’t
look like our kids, on paper they might not be our kids yet. But in our hearts
we love these children like they are and yet we’re not together. We’re moms
without children. It’s an ache that doesn’t go away. It starts before we see
their faces and only ends when they’re in our arms. So we walk about with half
our heart missing. It’s hard to breathe, to think, to speak. Something always
feels missing. Because they are.
4. She is addicted to her
email.
It’s okay. This is a temporary
condition and most make a full recovery. It can be diagnosed by refusal to allow
separation from her smart phone, or glassy-eyed concentration as she clicks
“refresh” over and over and over on her computer. Other signs may include:
waking up in the middle of the night to check because it’s X time over there,
and muttering aloud “must get home, must check for update, must get home” while
out in public.
5. Her child has been through
trauma.
If she’s like a lot of moms she won’t
be advertising that fact everywhere because she respects her child’s privacy.
But children don’t come to the place of needing a second family because they
were placed in a cabbage patch by unicorns and leprechauns. Adoption comes from
loss. Loss she will see in her child’s eyes and in their heart. Loss that as a
mama can make your soul curl up in a ball for an ugly cry. So don’t tell her the
kids are lucky. You wouldn’t tell a person who lost an arm that they’re lucky to
have a prosthetic one would you? I mean yeah, they are lucky to have that
replacement. But you know what would be luckier? Not losing that arm in the
first place. So please be understanding. Also, maybe instead of asking for her
child’s story outright ask “are you sharing about his history before you?” That
gives her a chance to either answer you or bow out
graciously.
6. Adoption isn’t
pregnancy.
It just isn’t. Well, it is in that at
the end of it the hope is to have a new son or daughter in your arms. But I’ve
yet to meet a pregnant woman who wonders how old her child will be upon entry
into the family. Adoption is different. There is no due date for us. Let that
sink in. No due date. And even given preemies and late arrivals with the baby by
stork method you have a narrow months-long window of time in which the baby will
arrive. That brings us to point number seven.
7. She probably doesn’t know when the
child is coming home.
And she has probably been asked this
approximately twelve times that day. Because you, her awesome friends, care
about her! (And also you secretly worry she’s going a little nuts, see point
#1.) And I get it. It’s hard with adoption because you don’t know what to ask. I
feel that way with pregnant ladies, like what am I supposed to say? “Your ankles
really don’t look that bad do they?” Recently I learned the always safe phrase
“you look great – how is baby doing?”, the adoption equivalent is “I know you
must miss your kiddos, how is the adoption going?” Or, if you don’t have time to
have her break down and cry all over you try the even safer “can I see your
latest update pictures?” and then ooh and aww over their cute faces. Even if the
pictures are horrible say something positive. I mean I don’t tell people
that their sonogram pictures sometimes look like aliens made of bread dough.
(Except yours Amy B. Yours is the cutest thing I’ve ever
seen.)
8. She isn’t sure they’re coming
home.
This is the part of the adoption
process that makes you want to crawl under your bed and not come out until it’s
safe again. This is the part that tears you soul in two. This is the part that
you wake up in the morning remembering and going to bed at night fearing.
Because there are no guarantees. And that’s hard. No, not hard. It’s
gut-wrenching. It’s not just the fear that your child might die before having a
family, it’s that this child you love with every ounce of your being might grow
up in an orphanage, on the streets, or worse.
9. Your friend is kind of
stupid.
I know. That’s harsh. But it’s true.
You try operating on a daily basis with only half your heart and half your
brain, because that’s what it’s like. ‘Cause they other half of you is wrapped
up in a tiny person who is half a world and what feels like a lifetime away.
Also, because of the time zone difference it means that half of you is awake
pretty much all the time.
10. She doesn’t need to hear your HAS
(horrible adoption stories.)
Yes, I know, everyone knows of
someone’s uncle’s neighbor who adopted a child and then the child burned down
the school with the power of her mind after her classmates dumped a bucket of
pigs blood on her. (Oh wait, that’s the storyline of “Carrie” isn’t it?) But
sharing these stories are the equivalent of telling someone hopping in a plane
for their first sky-diving session “I watched this video on youtube where a guy
skydived. He died. And his body was all smashed and stuff.” Maybe it’s true but
it’s also not overly helpful. Unless you’re the kind of person who also goes up
to pregnant woman and says “I read a book about this lady who got pregnant one
time, she gave birth to a kid who became a serial killer and sewed a suit of
clothes out of his victims skin. (Shoot, that’s the storyline of “Hannibal”
isn’t it? Well, I tried.)
Do “Adoptive Kids” sometimes grow up
and do horrible thing? Yep. You know who else grows up and does horrible things?
“Vaginal kids.” So really, the warning should be more along these lines: “You’re
going to be a parent huh? Good luck with that.”
11. She has probably done her
research
Don’t assume she’s going into this
because of a driving urge to be mistaken for Angelina Jolie. Unless she is also
demanding everyone call her husband “Brad” it probably comes from some deeper
place. Or you know, her husband’s name really IS Brad. Chances are she’s read
books on adoptive parenting, has agonized for hours over which adoption agency
to choose from. Made a decision. Then agonized some more. She’s thought about
the ethical questions. And if you don’t think she has then maybe ask. “How did
you pick your agency?” “What led you to X country?”
12. She looks brave on the outside,
she’s brave on the inside too. But she’s also a mess
Which, I think is what mothering and
loving is all about. Being a mess. Throwing your love out there and not knowing
if you’re ever going to get it back. It’s scary. It’s vulnerable. It feels like
you can’t breathe and when you can it hurts to do it. And you don’t want to
complain about that because you picked it. So you pick up the pieces of your
heart and you keep going. You keep going because at the end of the day what you
go through as an adoptive mother is nothing compared to what children go through
when they live their life without family. And that’s what this journey is all
about.
My friend sent this to me and I thought it described me to a tee.
Blessings, Melissa
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