Adoption Demands

We had our LONE home study for our second adoption this morning.  We had about 4 for the first adoption, but since this is our second and we're using the same agency, it's a little less complex.  We do have the same adoption worker, though, at least for now.  She's leaving the agency - sadly for us.
I told our adoption worker that we're not going to say "boy only" this time, although that's what I'd like to do.  Kelley won't let me. She says, "If we were having a child naturally we couldn't choose."  My argument is that since I can't have children, GETTING TO CHOOSE is one of the few benefits.  So I asked about it - just for my own information.  She said, "You don't want to do that."  I wasn't sure what she meant, so I asked.  Selecting a specific gender means you'll be waiting longer.  That didn't make sense (because I haven't thought it through).  If half of all children are boys and half are girls, I thought it'd just mean we had half the chance as before.  But, many times, a birthmother doesn't know the gender of her baby until after she picks a family.  If she knows a family only wants a boy, she won't pick that family, since she doesn't know if she's having a boy or a girl.
Now it makes sense to me.  I get it.  I love it when I come to understand something I didn't before.  That's part of why I like Bible study, writing messages, and teaching: I get to learn, but I also get to help others learn.  It's fun to see someone's eyes light up when they "get" something for the very first time - especially when it's about God, His purposes, and His ways.
I'd love to have a little boy, but I'll love any child we get to have call us Mommy and Daddy.  It's not like girls can't  play golf, swing a bat, throw like Roberto Clemente (well, maybe that's a stretch) . . . Maybe I should've said "throw like Jeff Francoeur" since I doubt many people know who Roberto Clemente was.  I know Francoeur hasn't lived up to expectations (Braves fans), but there's still nobody else I'd rather have in right field trying to throw out a runner at 2nd, 3rd, or home.  OK, I got sidetracked a bit.  It happens.

Adoption - Telling the Child About It

Kelley has a blog about our adoption and our life with Kate - www.thebiglongwait.blogspot.com .
She receives emails weekly from adoptive parents and prospective adoptive parents, and they ask all kinds of questions - good questions, the kind we also ask or used to ask.

I read an email today from a married couple that's going through the beginning stages of adopting a newborn.  The lady asked how things are NOW with Kate's birth parents, and how/when we plan to tell Kate.  Kelley will reply to her directly, but these questions are good to discuss since open adoption is the general rule for domestic adoptions today.

First, open adoption is a very broad term.  All it means is that there is some form of open communication between the birth parents and the adoptive parents.  How open the adoption is and continues to be must be determined by those involved.  Some adoptive parents want little contact with the birth parents, some birth parents want little contact with the adoptive parents (and the child), and those are some of the big things that help with finding a match.

But this is important - the old way of adoption is going the way of landlines.  I should probably say, going the way of rotary dial phones.  Some people still have them, but don't go looking for them on store shelves.  When I was in elementary school in the 80's, I had a few friends who were adopted, but we (classmates, church friends) weren't supposed to talk to them about it in case they didn't know.  They had been led to believe they were their parents' biological children - even though their dad was 5"7, their mom was 5"2, and they (the adopted children) were already 5' in 4th grade and looked nothing like their parents.  (I made all that up, but it helped make my point.)

Here's how our adoption has gone - SO FAR.  By telling our experience, in no way am I acting like an authority or a predictor of the future for every adoption.  In some cases, I'm SURE it's best not to have any contact with the birth parents - at least while the child is young.  Not only do we HAVE a very open adoption, we WANTED it.  We heard stories from both sides and the children who grew up with some kind of contact with their birth parents seemed more peaceful about life.  We didn't want Kate to wonder.  We didn't want her to feel bad for wondering, like she was doing Kelley and me wrong by imagining how life would be with her birth parents.  We didn't want her to wonder about her heritage.  We didn't want her to wonder about any siblings, or what she might look like when she grows up, or, or, or . . .

So we wanted an open adoption.  Kate's birth parents were 18 (birth father) and 16 (birth mother) when we met them.  We've seen them at least every few months since - with Kate.  Kate has a room full of toys and books, many from her birth parents.  We've made sure to keep some of these things they gave her at her birth - a blanket, a stuffed animal, a book, etc.  She's presently sleeping with a glow-worm type toy that lights up and plays music.  Her birth father gave it to her on her first birthday.

When will we tell Kate her story?  We don't really plan to.  She's living her story openly.  As she grows, learns, and understands, her story and all the information is openly available to her.  First, Kelley just printed the first year of her blog in a book.  Kate has a BOOK about the first year of her life, how all of this came to be.  Everything that's in Kelley's blog is in this book.  And second, on Kate's dresser, we keep a picture of 1-day old Kate at the hospital in her birth parents' arms.  She can now say both of their names, and she knows the little baby they're holding is her. She'll figure things out in time, and we'll continue to discuss her story with her until she completely understands.

Again, I know our situation isn't representative of all adoptions.  God blessed us with a wonderful daughter and wonderful birth parents who wanted to give her what they couldn't.  We'll never stop thanking them for allowing us to be Kate's parents.  I've asked them at a couple of our face to face meetings if they are still able to handle the visits, or if the visits are too painful.  They tell me that although the visits can be emotional, and yes, difficult, they are GREAT, and they want them to continue.  They know where we live and have been in our home - in Kate's bedroom.  They have our phone numbers.  We text them pictures of Kate occasionally.  Kate's birth mother invited us to her high school graduation this May, which isn't going to be one of our official visits.  We count it an honor.

If you're considering adoption, or if you're an adoptive parent and you're worried about any of these scenarios, or when to tell your child, or if your child will resent or reject you, I encourage you to trust God and be as honest as you can appropriately be.  There are adoption horror stories, but there are far more stories like ours.  So forget the old-school rotary dial phone.  Life with an adoptive child is so much more peaceful for everyone involved when nobody is trying to keep lots of secrets.  (And, I can also encourage Kate and our future adopted children with the fact that they never have to worry about growing up to look like me.)

Kate - Guarani Indian

A few weeks ago we had a visit with Kate's birth mother and birth grandfather.  While the birth mother played with Kate, I spoke with the birth grandfather.  He told us more details about Kate's birth mother, who was adopted, herself, out of Paraguay as a baby.  She is 100% Guarani Indian.  We knew she was native Paraguayan, but we didn't know what that officially is.

So, Kate is 1/2 Guarani Indian.  For the next several days I asked Kate, "Are you a Guarani Indian?" and she'd EMPHATICALLY shake her head no, as if she knew what I was asking her.  Then she stopped doing it.  It was so funny, like she didn't want to acknowledge her background!  But she just stopped doing it, and I wished I'd recorded it.

A few days ago in the car, I tried it again and recorded with my phone just in case.  Here's what I got.  You may not think it's funny, but this is my blog and I do!

My First Father's Day

OK, technically Sunday, June 17 was my 39th Father's Day, but it was my FIRST AS A FATHER!  Since I was 16, I'd wondered if the day would ever come.  The following is the most personal thing about me, something I hid from just about everybody until a year ago when I shared it with my church family during a sermon: at age 16, I discovered that because of a birth defect, I would never have biological children.

As a junior in high school, I started the year at 5'3" tall and about 110 pounds.  I lied on my driver's license and put  5'4" and 115.  Somehow that made me feel better.  I'd never really started puberty because the only testosterone my body made was the 20% of a male's total that comes from the adrenal gland.  I was a slender, small child and for years I just thought I'd always be that way, but by the time I was 12, my 10-year old brother had passed me in size.  It was humiliating and it caused me to resent him.

After 7th grade, I refused to change in front of anyone.  I'd always loved sports and P.E. had been my favorite class of the day, but no more.  I was scared to death that someone would find out.  We moved to Portsmouth, VA the summer before my 10th grade year and for P.E. there, you were docked a point off your final grade for every day you didn't shower (in open showers) after class.  I quickly discovered that there were 90 days in a semester, and the best grade I could get was a 10, because I wasn't taking a shower in front of ANYBODY.  Awesome.  Made me miss Franklin County High School in Carnesville, GA all the more.  There, nobody cared if you went to class stinking.

Near the end of my 10th grade year, after my family had moved to SC, I convinced my parents that something was wrong with me and I started seeing doctors.  I thought having a younger brother pass me in size was humiliating, but it was NOTHING compared to the exams I was put through.  I won't post my official diagnosis to keep the content of this blog PG, but after a few months of blood work, I started taking testosterone in mid-September, 1989.  That's about the same time I was sized for my high school class ring - size 8.

All I knew was, that stuff worked!  The process that should've taken 3-4 years or more happened to me in less than a year.  SUDDENLY, and I do mean suddenly, none of my clothes or shoes fit anymore.  I developed an Adam's Apple that has given me shaving fits ever since, and the deeper voice that goes with it. Our class rings arrived around February, and I was completely shocked when my size 8 ring got stuck on my  middle knuckle.  I had to get it re-sized to a 10, and then later, to a 10.5.  In four months, I'd grown about 4 inches taller and about 40 pounds heavier.  Talk about AWESOME!

But, growing so quickly caused plenty of problems, too.  I tried out for my school's baseball team about that same time - February.  I was hitting balls harder than ever before - obviously.  I could throw harder.  There were about 30 guys trying out and up to half would get cut, so I was going all out.  And it was killing me.  Never before had physical activity caused me PAIN.  My sudden growth was too much for all my connective tissues, and each night after practice, I'd hobble to my room and ice everything down for a couple hours.  Each day at school was misery because we had 3 floors and I had classes on each.  One day before practice, I went and talked to the coach and told him the real reason I wasn't going to come back.  He told me I was going to make the team and that he could really use me, so I kept trying for a couple days.  And then I told him I just couldn't do it.  I was heartbroken.  Baseball was the only organized sport I'd ever played, I was pretty good at it, and playing high school baseball had always been a dream.
 
My growth slowed over the next year, and I graduated at 5'9" and about 175 pounds.  A few people at school actually accused me of taking steroids.  I asked them how stupid they were, because steroids don't make anybody grow 6" TALLER.  But, it was obvious that SOMETHING had happened.  I had some weights at home and used them often even though I didn't really know what I was doing, but my body-type is mesomorph and I had natural muscle.  Again, it was AWESOME!

That sounds like a happy ending, and the growth was great, but I was still dealing with the fact that I'd never have biological children.  When my doctor told me that part, I started crying.  And I didn't stop for a while.  He tried to console me with humor: "Just think, you can have all the sex you want and you won't have to worry about getting anybody pregnant!"  That didn't even make me smile.  I was a committed Christian, absolutely determined to have sex with my wife and only my wife.  My wife.

My wife was on my mind from that point on, and thinking about her scared me to death.  This is the hard part of my diagnosis, if you haven't figured it out.  I'd always loved being around children, especially babies, and they seemed to like me, too.  I just expected to have 3-4 of my own in the future.  With my wife.  But with my PROBLEM, I didn't think anybody would ever want me after they found out.  So I guarded my secret.  I absolutely HAD to tell my closest MALE friends, and a few adults (male and female) who had become mentors to me.  I went to the doctor twice a month for injections, and it grew increasingly difficult to hide all those doctor visits, or the yellow doctor's receipts that I sometimes forgot to remove from my car.  These receipts had big, dark handwriting on them that said, "Testosterone Injection."

But I hid it from girls.  The first girl I ever loved found out accidentally from a friend of ours at church.  The friend overheard it from someone I'd told.  This girlfriend, whom I wasn't even dating at the time but I PLANNED TO MARRY, called me one night and asked me to come see her after she got off work.  She needed to talk to me about "something."  We went and sat in my car and she immediately started crying and asked, "Why didn't you TELL me?"  I didn't even have to ask what it was.  I knew.  And I immediately thought, "Well, I can forget about her.  Not gonna happen now."  Before I had time to think anything else, she was telling me that it didn't matter to her, and it didn't change anything.  I was SHOCKED.  And AMAZED.  My fear turned out to be for NOTHING.  But how was I supposed to know it wouldn't matter to her?  She already had her children's NAMES picked out!  We ultimately did date for about a year, and my infertility had nothing to do with our breakup.

I decided that I didn't want to go through that awful situation again, and that the next time I was even THINKING about getting serious with a girl, I'd tell her up front.  So I did.  I told the next girl I dated early on that I had a secret, and if she found out about it, she might not want anything to do with me.  One night at a church softball game, again sitting in my car, she said she thought she knew my secret, and she guessed it right away.  I was thinking, "HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU GET THAT FROM WHAT I SAID?  You weren't thinking "murderer," "felon," "sex-change operation," "toupee . . .???"

Two conversations, two wins for me.  I'd worried for years for nothing, so far.  But still, I was 25 years old and single, and I didn't want to be 35 years old and still single because everybody knew I couldn't have children.  So, I kept my secret to myself.

The third girl I ever got serious with already knew.  She's my wife today, but she used to be one of the students in my youth ministry.  She's always been tiny, and during her high school years, I wondered if she had a similar problem as me.  So I told her my secret and asked if she'd been examined by a doctor.  She assured me that she was OK.  I also told a few of my other students when there was an appropriate reason, with the assurance that they wouldn't tell anyone.  A couple were girls and a couple were guys, and I never INTENDED to tell them, but through some problem I was helping each deal with, my story just related and I thought it would help them.

A few years later when my future wife was no longer one of my students and I stopped seeing her as such, there were no barriers to her pursuing a relationship with me.  I didn't have to have one of those scary, intense car conversations.  Awesome!

Four years and one day after we were married, we became parents to Katherine Ava.  She was born ONE DAY before our anniversary.  We were hoping she'd be born ON our anniversary, but she had other plans.  We adopted Kate from two teenagers who put the best interests of their baby ahead of their own interests.  God led them to select us to raise their daughter.  They blessed us with a gift I was unable to give myself, or my wife.  I will forever be grateful to them.  And as long as it's in Kate's best interests, they'll always be a part of her life.

I have a big regret about my secret.  I spent most of the past 15 years PRIMARILY as a youth minister.  There are so many applications I could've made with my story, so much good I could've used it for, so many ways I could've potentially impacted more than just 4-5 lives with it.  But I was too scared.  I was selfish.  I was worried about scaring away some beautiful girl who could've been my future wife, while all that time God was working things out in ways I never would've asked for or originally wanted.  I have regrets.  But after finally being brave enough to tell my church last year, I'm no longer ashamed for people to know the truth about me.  The only reason I finally broke and told my story was because I was tired of people assuming that we were adopting because my wife was infertile.  I was tired of people asking both of us personal questions and us having to hide the truth.  I'm glad I finally got tired of it.  And I'm glad I'm no longer scared to tell the real story about why it took me so long to celebrate my first Father's Day as a father.

Mother's Day As A Mommy

Sunday was Mother's Day, and it was a special one: Kelley had her first Mother's Day as a mommy.  As you can see, Kate was just as happy about it as Kelley was.

At church, I took Kate on stage when I made announcements and talked about the significance of the day.  On second thought, I should've waited until Father's Day to do that!  She waved to everyone and smiled.  I think she likes the stage, and I know she likes the attention.  She's a "church" baby and goes to just about anyone.

Maybe I said this before, but the only time she hesitates to go to someone is if it's a man with facial hair.  She's not a fan of beards, mustaches, goatees, etc.  Good thing for both of us that I shave daily.  But, she'll generally choose a man over a woman.  When I drop her off in the mornings, if my dad hasn't left yet, she always wants him instead of Diane, and Diane is the one who keeps her all day.

On Monday, my Grandma gave me Sunday's Dear Abby column.  Kelley is going to mail it to Kate's birthmother.  I'll share it with you:

Dear Abby: This Mother's Day greeting is for all those incredibly unselfish mothers who chose to place their child up for adoption.  I am an adopted child whose life has been a wonderful journey.  If I could send a message to my birth mother, it would be one of eternal gratitude for allowing someone else to give me the life she was unable to provide.  My adoptive parents love me and instilled a value system and belief in God that have carried me through every challenge life has sent my way.  I never felt abandoned, but knew that I was chosen by people who were unable to have children.  There is no love like a mother's love.  That is why I want to tell all those mothers out there who gave their children to another parent to love and nurture that their sacrifice and heartache became a miracle for so many of us.  God bless all of you on this Mother's Day. - Thankful Daughter

Dear Thankful: I'm pleased to print your Mother's Day greeting, and I hope it will bring comfort and reassurance to any woman for whom today is a reminder of a painful sacrifice.  I would also like to wish a happy Mother's Day to mothers everywhere.

Kate's First Word

Lots of people told us Kate would say "dada" before she'd say "mama." I'm glad lots of people were wrong. Kate's been saying the "m" sound for a long time. Each morning when I take her to my step-mom, and each afternoon after I pick her up, she "talks" and it usually sounds like "mmmmmm." So I've encouraged it. I repeat "mama" and "dada" over and over.

Seems like dads would want their baby to say "dada" first, and moms would want their baby to say "mama" first. I've been hoping for "mama." Kelley is an accountant and she's been working crazy hours since January. She's had a hard time with it this year, because of Kate. She really only gets to see Kate for an hour or so at night, Saturday evenings after work, and Sundays after church.

Unfortunately for Kelley, Kate generally sleeps all weekend. I guess she has to recover from her weekdays of fun with Diane (step-mom). Some weekdays she won't even take a nap. But Saturdays and Sundays? She sleeps in long chunks and wakes up long enough to eat and play for maybe 30 minutes.

Over the past week, Kate has actually started saying "mama." She says it a lot. Kelley heard it before I did and when she told me Kate said it, I didn't believe her. The next morning on the way to Diane's, I became a believer. And I was happy - for Kelley.

Since she's already good at the "m" sound, I'm now saying over and over to her, "Max." Max is our older/smaller Yellow Lab. I say "Cooper," too, but somehow I think Cooper (our younger/larger Yellow Lab) is going to have to wait. With me.

I'm Adopted! And You Should Be, Too!

Romans 8:15-17 So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, “Abba, Father.” ¹⁶ For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children. ¹⁷ And since we are his children, we are his heirs.

When we surrender to God, He makes us his CHILDREN and we have FULL RIGHTS that any child gets from his father.

Since ANCIENT TIMES, adopted children have been FIRST-CLASS children with the same name, inheritance, and legal rights as biological children.

Kate is our DAUGHTER. There’s no distinction between her and a biological daughter. We’ll PROUDLY tell her and others about her background, her story, but we’ll never introduce her as our “ADOPTED DAUGHTER.” She’s 100% our DAUGHTER!

We didn’t make space for her in our storage building. I didn’t build her a room in our garage. She couldn’t be more OURS if she was our blood-daughter. She doesn’t get second-class love from us. We’ll give her the best we can afford. She’s a daughter, a grand-daughter, a cousin, and a niece.

See, ADOPTION makes you LEGITIMATE, the REAL DEAL. There’s no reason for distinction.

For everyone who invites God into their life, God is our FATHER and we have full access to His resources. He gives us a new STATUS – FORGIVEN; a new NAME – CHILD OF GOD; a new NATURE – RIGHTEOUSNESS, a new PRIORITY – TO GLORIFY HIM IN ALL WE DO; and a new DESTINATION – ETERNITY IN HEAVEN.

If you’re ONE OF GOD’S CHILDREN, ACT LIKE IT! Remember how you felt about your parents when you were a little kid? We should be as thrilled to belong to God as we were to belong to our parents. Think about that! We should PROUDLY claim God as our Father EVERY CHANCE WE GET.