by Erin Knowles
In the middle of one of our umpteen-billion trips to the potty (oh how I love potty-training), which also happens to be the place of some of our deepest discussions, our then almost three-year-old daughter says to me:
“Mama, why did you and Mommy take me home from the hospital? Why are we a family?”
After a slight pause, she looks down at the floor, her chin in her hands, and continues.
“Will we always be a family?”
So she is thinking about it after all, I thought as I sat on the edge of the tub waiting for her to do her thing.
There are so many ways to have a family these days, and ours just happened to come by way of adoption. Twice. We have always been open with our children about this, and have attempted to provide as much (developmentally appropriate) information as they seem receptive to.
The questions. I knew there would be questions; I expected them (or whatever I believed “they” would be) to be asked. But I didn’t expect it this soon. I didn’t expect her to cut right to the my (our?) heart and wonder, out loud, why she is with us and not somewhere else. And if this will stick.
Our son asked a similar question when he was three: “Mama, how did you find me?” Now almost six, the questions have seemed to turn more inward, his actions at times pushing the limits of not just a typical six-year-old, but one who is contemplating his place in this world, in our world, and if there is any chance that things might shift again.
The journey of adoption is full of questions. How do we start (not to mention the questions asked prior to the moment of considering adoption)? Will the birthparents change their minds? Will I be able to love another person’s child like my own? Will they love me? Kids will wonder who they are and where they come from, in different moments, with varying degrees of difficulty. The adoptive parents might wonder if there’s anything they can do that allows their children to know that they are safe, and wanted, and loved – to fill the gap? Outsiders will ask (as a cashier at a local retail giant said to me when our daughter was a mere two weeks old) “Is she yours? She sure don’t look like you!?”
Friends and family will try and provide some reassurance. With all sincerity, they’ll say: “They sure are lucky to have you.” Or “Just love the baby and everything will be fine.”
“While adoptive parents may refer to the child as “chosen” and to themselves as the “real” parents, the child has had an experience of another mother to whom he was once attached and from whom he is now separated which he can never completely ignore.” – Nancy Verrier, The Primal Wound
Jenni Levy recently wrote on HuffPost Parents, “My daughter’s story starts with loss. To truly be her mother, I have to accept that her loss is real, and I can’t fix it. She has to write her own book.”
The adoption triad (birthmom, adopted child, adoptive parents) is both wrought with loss, and also, joy. Sometimes these feelings are all occurring simultaneously, and at other times, directly in opposition to one another. The moment we first held our son, he was handed to us directly from the arms of his birthmom, about 16 hours after he entered this world, and moments after we walked into her hospital room and met her for the first time.
During the happiest moment of my life, I had no idea how our birthmom was feeling. And I can’t begin to comprehend what our son must have felt. How does a newborn interpret intention, no matter how genuine and noble it may be? We look and feel and sound different from what he’d known for nine months.
In spite of all the questions that at times cannot be fully answered for any of us; in spite of the loss, the gains, the joy, the heartache, the unknowns…in spite of all of this, I wouldn’t change a thing. And I hope in the end, that the other parts of the triad feel the same.
When I was younger, I learned about the birds and the bees, and in a sense I learned about myself, from a book entitled “Where Did I Come From?” For me, part of that map was already written, the roads clearly laid out and marked. For our children, that map, early on, hits the end of the road, and it is up to all of us to help write the way. We follow their lead, because this journey is about them and not us. At times we may have to step ahead and clear the path of debris, while other times we stand behind and catch them when they fall. Or hopefully watch them walk, or run, ahead, enjoying the newness of the breeze upon their face and the joy of the unknown.
In the end, isn’t this what parenthood is all about?
Erin Knowles made the leap from full-time employment to work-at-home entrepreneur. While her business is lifestyle photography, she is an artist who holds a camera. Erin is also active in the community, serving on the Orpheum Children’s Science Museum Board of Directors as well as being involved in the UP Center of Champaign County. Erin and her partner of 18 years, Cari, are parents to Henry (5) and Millie (3), who never cease to make life interesting. Her favorite quote from the week comes from her son to Cari: “Mommy, even if there was a better mom out there I wouldn’t want her because you cook the BEST food!”