Food for thought

First time we got certified as adoptive parents we took a class and among many others we had to write a letter to the woman who gave birth to the child we will adopt.

It was an exercise. We kept the letter. Nonetheless. Hard thing to do.

Most of us expressed our gratitude, empathy. Someone got really upset for having to write such a letter. It’s an interesting exercise to say the least. What I find odd is how our heart changes over time. Before we meet our child we give the mother more thought. But after the adoption process completes we close these thoughts into the fear box.

Side note:
In romania we don’t meet the biological mothers. Unless you were a foster parent of a child for long enough to have it considered essential attachment, and then you agreed to adopt the child, and while fostering you had to facilitate some reunification meetings between kids and biological parents, you wouldn’t had has otherwise the chance to meet the mother. Most often the father of the child is unknown.

Why fear box? Fear of competition, of a distant past that will catch up us and our much loved child. Fear of our child’s natural curiosity, of a dissonance in our universe.
They say we reach a sense of bliss on the first years but unless we continue to face our unique story and reality at its proper time, it will gain power over us. Let’s start first with telling our kids that they are adopted and being available to fill in the gaps with answers as time goes by. Some parents are eager and willing to tell their kids about adoption but after a while it gets tiresome. You want to fit in, to blend in. Eventually you kids will want to meet her. Look her in the eyes. Understand more of their past and who they are.

But if we, as adoptive parents, don’t portray her in a natural light, but we try to attach our resentment, despise, fear, pity, we are doing a disservice.

This is such s complex journey. And us praying to be able to adopt Jaclyn’s sister, the mom regained life. She is alive. Active. Fertile. Nearby. We may have even passed her on the street… if we were to stroll more than we actually do.
I feel compelled to fight for j’s baby sister as if she is already mine. She is in the system and she needs a forever safe home. I trust the system thus far, and I carry the burden for my leg of the journey. She is my daughter. And my heart aches that she is not home. I pray fervently fir her heart, wherever she might be beating at this very moment. I pray for her safety. I pray for her foster family. I pray for our little girls’ reunification.

I love this little person, j’s baby sister, fully and wholeheartedly. How can that be?
This love o feel is powerful and free. Not burdening but hopeful.

I can’t judge their biological mother. Funny enough, I don’t know how to feel. Conflicted. Grateful. Hopeful.
She herself was a child that was failed by the system. She didn’t receive the love, the nurture and education when she was a kid, to be able to care for her own kids when becoming an adult. How can we judge her? Who are we to judge her? I pray that she finds peace and healing. I pray that God will allow the sisters, my daughters, to grow together. And that we will have wisdom, love, strength to be good enough parents.