When I heard about the grief series that Kathy was
doing, I felt my stomach drop. I wanted
to tell my story but I also realized that I hadn’t yet written about the grief
that changed my family’s path. So here
it goes…I am taking that deep breath and sharing it with you.
In the summer of 2005, after many months of paperwork and
waiting, we got “the call.” The next
day, my long-time partner and I drove to the hospital and picked up a beautiful,
healthy infant boy who was meant to be ours.
In the beginning, we were told that his adoption was low legal risk;
however, after 18 months, a birth relative came out of nowhere to claim our son
as her own.
For the next 8 months, we lived in complete
uncertainty. We kept our crying and
panic for the late night hours and demanded courage and consistency in the
presence of our son. We fought with the
help of attorneys and experts, and after a series of miracles, the judge declared
us a “forever family.”
After that experience, we needed a few months to breathe
before we addressed our family’s future.
The plan was not to raise a singleton. We wanted laughter while siblings tried to go
to sleep at night. We pictured Saturday
afternoons where brothers would entertain each other until one crossed the
line, knocking over Lego masterpieces or destroying forts made of chairs and
blankets. We wanted these experiences
for our son.
We weighed our own fears against our dream and the dream
won.
We told our adoption agency that we wanted to move forward
after the required 6 month waiting period was completed. What seemed like a lifetime went by while we
received calls about potential placements.
Then…we were called about a toddler who needed a home. We
were excited about this call since the boys would be very close in age. We moved forward in the process and began to
talk to our son about a child joining our family.
The first visit was arranged.
Prior to the visit, our son selected a new toy to give to
his future brother. It took him longer
than expected to find the perfect one, and then we nervously drove to our first
meeting. We were warned that the foster
mother might be unfriendly. That was a
bit unsettling to us, but it didn’t lessen our own excitement. We arrived early and paced the floors.
When they entered, I saw him.
He was small for his age, and he had a tight grip on his
foster mother. What I noticed
immediately, was the protective tight grip that she had on him too.
She tried to put him down, but he clung to her and called her
“Mama.”
Mama?! He called her
Mama?! When I heard this, my heart sank.
My son walked over and gave the little boy his gift. The toddler held it, only momentarily, before
he tossed it to the floor. The
expression on his face was as if he had thrown a broken toy in the garbage;
however, the devastation on my son’s face was unforgettable.
We tried to connect. We
followed him, talked to him, and played with him some…all with the foster
mother only steps away. My son was confused and tried desperately to keep our
attention, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at him. “Look at me Mama! Only me!
I’m here.”
My emotions were overwhelming. I struggled to keep a smile
on my face and the tears from flowing! This wasn’t what I pictured! He was supposed to run to us and want to be
in our family. Our son was supposed to
see this boy as his brother.
At one point, I looked at the foster mom and she was very
quiet. “This must be hard for you.” I tried to say it with compassion and empathy,
but I wasn’t expecting her answer. I expected
to hear, “Yes…but this is what I do. I
care until there is a family.”
Instead, I saw a woman in agony tell me that he was only
days old when she got him and that she has raised him as her own along with her
biological children. My heart hurt for
her! I couldn’t take this baby! He wasn’t mine to take! He had a mother already!
I couldn’t breathe and we made an excuse to cut the visit
short.
On the ride home, we talked about our next steps through
tears and disappointment. Knowing what
we knew about attachment with our own son’s legal battles, we knew we couldn’t
take him.
Although the agency was surprised, they understood our
decision. Not long after, we learned
that our visit was instrumental in the foster’s mother decision to move forward
and legally adopt the little boy despite her own financial struggles.
Even though it was excruciatingly painful to go through, it
felt like the right ending…for everyone involved.
We continued to wish for another child and one more time, we
came close. A struggling mother selected
us to raise her daughter. We met them,
held her, and began at that very moment to dream about her future. Several weeks later, the process stopped when
the biological mother changed her mind.
I could not ride this roller coaster any longer! It had to stop! How could I continue to subject my family,
especially my son, to so much emotional uncertainty!
The day we told our agency that we needed a break; we were
pretty sure about our decision. The day
that we let our foster to adopt license lapse, we surrendered our dream of a
bigger family.
As I sit now and look back at my life, I can honestly say
that it took years for me to heal. For
a long time, I felt guilty! I should
have been SO grateful that my son’s adoption was finalized, especially when
most of the “experts” told us that we would lose. I felt greedy and unappreciative and wondered
if the universe was trying to teach me something!
Initially, I obsessed about the children that we almost raised. I pictured their faces as I wondered about
what they were doing and how they were growing.
Over time, I thought about them less until one day, I realized their
names were not on the tip of my tongue.
Now, I can remember without pain.
My small family of 3 isn’t what I pictured and sometimes I
still have twinges when I see siblings playing together; however, I know that
the decision was the right one.
