adoption news (it's probably not what you think)

My apologies – this is a lengthy post.  It is not one that you have to read in its entirety, but it is one that I had to write, for myself.

Several people have stopped me lately and asked if we had any adoption news.  The short answer is “yes…and no.”  Yes, we have news, but it’s probably not what most people expect to hear from us:  after much thought and prayer, Hubby and I have made the decision to step back from our plans to adopt from Ethiopia, at least for the time being.  We have – for now – closed the door on infertility treatments, adoption, and all other methods of growing our family (well, okay, that’s not entirely true…we are leaving ONE door open...) and are going to focus on being content as a family of three and enjoying the child with which we’ve been blessed.

We’ve surprised a lot of people with our decision, but it feels like the right one. 

There are several reasons for this change in direction.  The primary reason is that we found we were not completely at peace with Ethiopian adoption.  I can go into more details about our thought process later, if anyone is really curious, but for now I will just say that it became very clear that we weren’t ready.  Not that we think Ethiopian adoption is wrong (far from it) but it felt wrong for us, at least right now. 

We are weary.  We have been on this roller coaster journey trying to grow our family for nearly six years, and we - and our options - are exhausted.  We have tried to conceive on our own.  We have sought medical help through basic infertility treatments.  We have experienced miscarriage.  We have waited over two and a half years for a match through domestic infant adoption.  We have looked into foster care and international adoption.

And God has been present, but not very clear in his direction.  I feel like we have been stumbling and bumbling our way, trying to discern his will, taking steps of faith and listening for affirmation as we take them.  Most of those steps have felt right and good and positive, despite their seeming lack of results (Ethiopia didn't feel that way, and that was one of our first clues that we needed to re-think this).   But I feel like I’ve been the one in the driver’s seat, asking God (in the passenger seat) if I’m driving in the right direction.  Now, I'm ready to switch seats.  God can take the wheel.  If he wants our family to grow, I’m ready for him to let us know clearly and undoubtedly by "dropping children in our lap," if he so chooses.  If not, I think I am finally ready to be okay with that.  Is there still grief and pain over my infertility?  Yes.  But I want to live life in the moment instead of wishing for what could have been.  I want to fully enjoy the family I have already been blessed with, and to leave the rest up to the Lord. 

Kiddo still prays every once in a while for a baby sister, and I don’t know quite what to do with that.  I don’t want to quench his faith, but I also don’t see a baby sister in the future at this point.  For now I will encourage him to keep praying.  And I will pray that God makes his will for our family known.  If he wants us to be a family of three, I will be content, and I will pray that Kiddo’s faith will not be bruised by unanswered prayer.  If God wants us to adopt or get involved in foster care or some other ministry, I’m praying that he makes that blatantly obvious, and gives us a sense of peace and excitement and “rightness.”

In some ways this decision was difficult, because we know that there are orphans out there who need homes.  I almost feel guilty for changing my mind about adopting from Ethiopia, because I know the need is great, and I have developed a more tender heart for children and orphans.  Knowing what we now know, I don’t think we can sit back and do nothing.  I'm not sure yet what our involvement or ministry will look like, but I know that I want to do something.

We have been particularly troubled by the discovery that many Ethiopian children are orphans simply because of poverty.  It hurts me to think of the mothers (or fathers) who, lacking sufficient resources, are forced to make the gut-wrenching decision to place some or all of their children for adoption.  I want to get involved in the fight against that poverty.  What if, instead of adopting one or two children, we gave away even a portion of the money we have saved for our adoption?  Could we help even more children that way?  We could sponsor kids through Compassion or World Vision.  We could donate to an organization like the Heifer Project, supporting families for the long-term and helping them become self-sufficient.  If we can’t or don’t feel comfortable adopting, can we address the orphan crisis by helping those organizations that are working on long-term solutions to the poverty that creates so many orphans in the first place? 

I don’t know yet where the Lord will take us, or how he will ask us to get involved.  I pray that we will have open hearts and minds for what he might have in store.  In the meantime, I will praise him and thank him for the beautiful family that I already have, and for the things I have learned and ways I have grown while on this journey.

the plunge

We took the plunge yesterday!  We sent in our application to adopt from Ethiopia.  We are nervous.  We are excited!  We are nervously excited.  We are excitedly nervous.  Kiddo has been asking lots of questions.  He is eager to know who his siblings will be.  He has been praying for a baby sister for more than two years now, but he decided this week that a little brother (or two) would be okay, too.

We have applied to adopt a sibling group under the age of six.  Boys?  Girls?  One of each?  Who knows?  God knows!  Can't wait to see what our family will look like in another year or two.  Stay tuned - and thanks for joining us on this incredible journey we've embarked upon!

so much to think about

I have been thinking a lot about adoption these days.  Not that that is an entirely unfamiliar state of mind for me - there have been many times in the past few years when it has dominated my thoughts:  when we were deciding whether to pursue adoption at all, throughout the application process and the piles of paperwork, and every time we got a call letting us know that our profile was being viewed by a potential birth family.  And now...

Our home study expires this month.  Again.  And we find ourselves wrestling with whether to update our home study and continue to pursue a domestic adoption, or whether to close that door and go in a different direction.  We could either give up entirely and be content as a family of three, we could get involved in foster care, or we could go adopt internationally.  Over the past several months I have felt my heart being pulled more and more in the direction of international adoption.  Specifically towards adopting from Ethiopia.  It has been rather a wrestling match of sorts - sometimes I am ready to take the leap of faith and go for it, full speed, and other times I am nearly paralyzed by fear.

In our domestic adoption journey, we decided early on that we would not adopt transracially, so it has kind of turned our thinking upside-down as we consider adopting from another country and ethnicity.  The primary reason for our decision was the overwhelming "whiteness" of our community - would a child of color (is that a P.C. thing to say?) feel comfortable growing up surrounded by white faces?  The make-up of our community hasn't changed much, but we are becoming more aware of other adoptive families in our area, ethnic churches and restaurants we could visit, the more ethnically diverse places to shop, as well as playgroups and other resources that are available to adoptive families.  We would have to be intentional about surrounding ourselves with increased diversity, but it seems more attainable now than it did a few months ago.   

I also feel like God has been working in my heart to change how I see people, particularly African Americans.  I have had my own hesitations about raising a black child.  While I would say that I am not and have not been hatefully prejudiced against African Americans, I do know that I have harbored stereotypes and discomfort when I am around them.  They just seem so different from me with my blond hair, blue eyes, fair skin and insulated upbringing.  But over the past few months, as I have been considering the possibility of adopting a child from Ethiopia, I have also been seeing how much the black people I see are similar to me and the people with whom I am familiar.  I can focus on those similarities, instead of dwelling on the differences.  They are truly beautiful people, now that I have taken the time to really see them.  I would still be intimidated in many parts of Philadelphia or New York, where the tables are turned and I become one of the minority, but I am no longer seeing through the African Americans that I meet at Target or at the grocery store.  I am noticing them, engaging them in conversation, asking them about their kids.  I am dreaming about little African faces in my own home.  Even if we never adopt an African child, I won't regret this change I see in myself.  It's exciting.  While I know I still have room to grow, I love that I can now see black people more like God sees them.  It makes the world a far more beautiful and interesting place.

I don't know where this will all lead yet - I don't know yet if we really are sensing a call to adopt from Ethiopia, to take that leap of faith and build a family that looks a little different from most others, or if this is just a "phase" born from reading too many adoption blogs and watching too many "gotcha" videos.  Some days I am SO excited about the possibility, other days I wonder if we're crazy to even be considering it.  We have been praying for direction, for doors to be open or closed so that our path becomes clear.   It could be a very challenging road, but, if it is a road we are meant to travel, it could be a very rewarding one.  We still have lots of questions and concerns that we will need to mull over and wrestle with (Can we really do this?  Should we adopt a sibling group?  Would they have an identity crisis as they got older?  Would they resent being separated from their native culture?  How many rude comments would we have to put up with from prejudiced white people, from angry black people?  Could we build an adequate support network?  What does our extended family feel about all of this?  etc. etc....).  We may ultimately conclude that it isn't something God is asking us to do, but if it is - then, WOW.  What an amazing adventure that would be.

my turn

Is it just me, or do you also sometimes find that it's easier to see God working in someone else's life than it is to see the ways he is working in yours?

Maybe it's not so much that I don't see God moving in my life, because I do - in so many different ways - but that I don't see him working in one particular area of my life - that of our longing to have more children.

While I have come to terms, in many ways, with my infertility, what is frustrating to me is that we have been on this journey for over five years now, in one form or another, and I feel like God has been largely silent the whole time.  I believe he has been here, traveling this road with us, but he has been a pretty quiet traveling companion.  He hasn't been saying much (or we haven't been hearing much), no matter how many times we have asked him for wisdom and direction.

And what makes it even more frustrating is that I see him speaking so loudly and clearly to friends in similar situations.  I see him blessing friends with successful pregnancies after fertility treatments.  I see him quickly matching friends with birth families in the U.S.  I see him giving friends a heart for orphans in another country and then "moving mountains" to unite them with their adopted child(ren) - providing the finances necessary, shortening expected wait times, healing children of special needs, speaking clearly about whether or not to accept a referral.  Just this week, one friend has given birth to her second child, one friend has given birth to her fourth, I read a blog post from another friend who has been matched with her Chinese daughter (the details of this story are awesome, but too many to share here), and another blog post from a friend who is traveling to Ethiopia two months earlier than expected to bring home her son.

I love hearing those stories.  I am, and have been, excited for these friends, and I want to celebrate with them and praise God with them.  But sometimes I can't help but feel left out.  I find myself crying out, "Okay, Lord, when is it MY turn?  Can't I join in on the fun?  When do I get to tell others about the miracles you've done to bring OUR family together?  We're not getting any younger, you know..."

If you are a friend of mine, please don't take this the wrong way.  Pleasepleaseplease PLEASE keep sharing your stories with me.  I am truly interested in what is going on in your life.  I want to see pictures of your little ones and share in the joys (and challenges) of parenthood.  I may be envious, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to hear it or that I don't want to rejoice with you.  I do!!  For reals.

I just don't understand why God has been silent for so long, has made us wait for so long.  It is hard to continue to have hope when we have been disappointed so many times and when everyone else's prayers seem to be getting answered, but not ours.  Is our answer to just continue to wait?  For how long?  Or, if we are meant to adopt internationally instead of in the U.S. (where we are currently trying to adopt), why haven't we been given some sort of nudge in that direction?  Or are we meant to have just one child?

For now, I will choose to continue to believe that God knows what he is doing.  I will choose to trust that he has our best interests at heart.  I will choose to believe that he hasn't forgotten us, that he is moving, and we just can't see it yet.  Some day, we'll be drinking the lemonade that he squeezes from this lemon.

***

I was sure by now
God, You would have reached down
and wiped our tears away
stepped in and saved the day
but once again, I say "amen," and it's still raining

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
and takes away

And I'll praise You in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for you are who You are
no matter where I am
and every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
and though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

(from "Praise You in this Storm" by Casting Crowns)

***

P.S.  I don't want to ignore the blessing of the child that we do have.  I am so thankful for him, that I was able to experience pregnancy at least once, that I have the opportunity to parent this amazing kid.  Many women are longing for their first child, and my heart just breaks for the pain I know they are suffering.  I am thankful.  And praying for those who have not (yet) been blessed in the same ways that I have been.