Thoughts About Birthmothers.

I've been thinking, about things I know that you don't...which is quite a bit, though I'm sure you know quite a bit about things I know nothing about, none the less, I wanted to tell you something that my life has taught me, that every life isn't taught.

My wife and I can't have kids.  She has known for most her life that her body didn't make children. And strangely, I had known for some of my life that we would adopt.  And in this way we were lucky. People who know they can't have kids from the get go are luckier than people who have to slowly find that out.  Though it doesn't really matter, God sends kids to Earth and He does it when He does it and no one really has a choice in that matter. But, I am still grateful that we have always known.

None of this is news, nor is it all that interesting.  But, what I do want you to know is something about birthmothers.  Whatever you may think, or even, how much you may empathize, unless you place your own child in someone else's arms forever, you will never know. Not that I do.  I will never know either. 

But what I do know, and I know it because I have sat two feet away and watched it happen, is a Birthmother is strong. In a deep and powerful way, a birthmother is strong.  I sat at a dinner with friends and the topic of a family up the street who had adopted several children from one birthmother came up. They went on to explain all that the Birthmother was getting out of the whole situation...and these were women who had had children of their own and they seemed to think that this woman could whip out babies with no emotional connection.  Let me just say, anytime you find yourself thinking that your ability to love or find faith or think something through and then soundly come to a conclusion is better than someone else's... it is not.  Every single person on earth has those abilities, so be weary of your thoughts when they lead you to think you've figured it all out for everyone.  Figuring out the same path for everyone was not the plan.

Once, a friend told me, "I could never give up my child." And I suppose that is true for her...but it was also true for the two birthmothers in my life.  But, trying to imagine giving up one of your children is not the way to go about such a thing.  What you need to imagine is, "What would my life have to be like for me to give up my child?" My friend who told me she "could never"was living a pretty sweet and safe life, her family was around and her husband had a good job and she loved her children.  Think of all that must happen in your own life that would lead you to the conclusion, "This child needs something I can't give."  That is a real place.   

A Birthmom is selfless, and not because of what she did for the adopting family...she could care less about me or my wife...well, I mean, she cares, but all she really cares about is that I am nice and safe and steady and committed, but in that moment...or rather, those long never ending months, she is only thinking about one person, her child. It is a rare woman who thinks about a childless couple and what she could give them...though, even they, I suppose, exist.  But most Birthmoms, and certainly the two who are part of our family, thought first, of this unborn child, next of their born children, (both of our Birthmothers parented children before they placed a child with us) and far last, themselves. 

There are several, easier and faster options for a woman who find themselves in the family way.  Not the least of which is to do away with it. Abortion is legal, surprisingly easy, and common.  When I worked in NYC, one of my coworkers requested the day off for a "Procedure". Another coworker told me why and I was shocked.  Here I was, looking to adopt and everyone knew it and yet come to find out multiple associates had done the same thing in the 4 years I had worked there...ah, see how easy it is to feel like I know the solutions to other peoples problems.  Those women made their own choices and also, they were not having my baby.  Years later, two other women did. And it was the harder choice and it was selfless, in the deepest sense of the word.

I know there are a thousand stories out there and I can't speak to every experience, but I want to add my story to all the others.  There is no greater love then that of a parent to a child. I know that because I am a father and have never loved greater then the way I love my children.  I also know it because I was handed those children by women who wanted more then anything to hold onto those babies forever, to watch them grow up and see who they turned out to be, to be there day after day in every part of their lives, and yet, wanting all that but knowing all they knew about that life ahead and knowing what they felt that child needed, they let that knowing outweighed their the wanting. 

And though it had little to do with me...I am forever grateful. 

My extraordinary inheritance

The first time I remember feeling like a father was ... let me explain.

When I showed up for my first date with Amelia, I knocked on the door and, when she opened it, I thought three things: "She is beautiful," "She's out of my league. Enjoy this one date." and "Her kids seem really great." She was a single mom of a boy (Aidan, 6) and a girl (Isabella, 18 months).

I was 34. I had never been married but had dated women with kids before. Some I got very close to and some I never really got to meet. If I was allowed to be around my various girlfriends' kids, it was always heartbreaking when things didn't work out. I mention this because it's important to understand that I definitely knew what was at stake, having been through it before.

By the time I met Amelia, I was more confident about who I was, what I wanted, and where I wanted to go in life than I had ever been before. I was on the right track—finally—and in just the right headspace. I had come to grips with the fact that I could be single forever or, at least, for a really long time. It was all right. That didn't mean that I would avoid marriage; it just meant that I wouldn't let the pressure of finding someone to spend life with make me choose someone just because they were nice or pretty or cool. I wanted to be a dad almost as much as I wanted to be married, but, again, I wasn't willing to stress, settle, sacrifice, or impregnate just so I could be.

When I started dating Amelia, I fell fast for her. Because I loved her so much, it was inevitable that I would love her kids. I'd arrive to pick her up and, while she perfected her make-up, I'd play Ring Around the Rosie or London Bridge with her daughter and have pillow fights or play Find the Hotwheels with her son. These kids were amazing individuals. In six months, Amelia and I were married. Insta-family.

On that day I became a guardian to two wonderful kids. Aside from hiccups here and there, I really took to the role of father figure. But, you see, as I recall the events of the last seven years, it's difficult for me to single out one defining moment where I finally felt like a father because every moment with them kept defining it.

But, I think I can narrow it down to a handful of them.

With Aidan, I'm his step-dad. We've always gotten along but it's been a challenge to know how to fit in to his life like a dad without it feeling like I'm trying to be his dad. We do a pretty good impression of a father and son though. For us it's been soccer in the backyard, me letting him win. Laughing at jokes that only he and I get. Playing video games and screaming at the action. Nerding out about some show or game or film. Showing him something I loved, like Back to the Future, for the first time and him loving it too.

There are the moments Patrick wrote about where you've been driving and they're all asleep and you have to unbuckle them and, without any words, you pick them up and their hair is wet with sweat and their fists are clenched and they nuzzle into your neck and you carry them to bed and kiss them on the forehead and they make that noise that can only be interpreted, in that moment, as thank you.

One time, when Amelia and I were engaged, Bella needed to spit out her gum and I, without a thought, held out my hand and she, without a thought, spit it into my hand and I threw it away.

The day of our sealing (pictured above).

The times Izzy got hurt or scared and I was the first person she ran to.

There's the baptisms, blessings, confirmations, and ordinations. The recitals, performances, and concerts. The bedtime prayers and tuck-ins. Christmas shopping and Christmas morning. The middle-of-the-night stories or jokes to soothe them.

Adoption day.

There is Bella's adoption day when she legally became my daughter and I got to testify, before a judge, that I wanted to be her dad and how I would always do my best to love and protect her.

Then, there was the day I married Amelia. Right before the ceremony, Bella was crying because she couldn't see her mom. The sweet two-year old couldn't be consoled. I watched as moms, dads, sisters, brothers, and others tried to help out. Finally, I walked out from under the arbor, gently picked her up, put her blanket over my shoulder and just held her. She nestled her head on my shoulder and stopped crying. Instantly.

So, it might be that moment. Still, maybe you should ask Bella if she remembers when she first felt it. Because, as much as these moments feel like "dad" to me, until I became Dad to her, I never truly was one.

The Simple Truth Is...

I use to think adoption was super scary, now I know, it's just parenting that scary.  However, there are times in our lives that are just going to be different then most. We have an open adoption with both our Birth Mothers, which is really the way most adoptions work these days, it's better for the kids, it's better for the Birth Moms, and it's better for us...it's just better.  My wife's motto is,  you don't talk about things you are ashamed of, and we are the opposite of ashamed about our adoptions...we are thrilled and proud and if you saw our kids you would understand...and also be a little disappointed in your own ability to procreate. One of the biggest things we want to avoid in our child's lives is "The Moment".  That "Moment" when they were told they were adopted.  So now it's just sort of built into our lives, as evident by the other day: 

The other day Daisy and I were picking up her toys, rather, I was picking up toys and she was telling me where to put them, which she would know, she got them out, and I came upon this little apron that belongs to this little rabbit.

As we were putting the apron back on the bunny I said to Daisy, "Did you know Daddy made this Bunny for you when you were in Gabby's (name change) belly?"

She said, "Yeah." then she left the room and came back in with the picture of Gabby we have framed in her room and said, "I came from Gabby's belly!"

And I said, "That's right, sweety."

She thought for a moment and then she asked, "Who belly you come from?"

I said, "I came from Hommy John's belly."  (Hommy is what we call Grandma's even though we can all say Grandma very well. Also, my mom, in a twist of patriarchal foolery, somehow adopted my dad's name into her's, making her Hommy John...which is just as well, as she had five boys and put John in all five names...she was the only "Non-John" in the house...until now.)

Daisy said, "Oh...Whose belly Mommy come from?"

I answered, "Mommy came from Hommy Da's belly."

She then asked, "Whose belly Milo come from?"

"Milo came from Olivia's belly."

Then she thought for a second then said, "Well, we all come from someones belly."

Simple. Thoughtful. Profound.  And she's only 2.



***Next week I am going to blog about how parents think their own kids are smarter, cleverer, and funnier then everyone else's kids...which can't be true...'cause I have Daisy.

See you then!

You Have No Idea.

 I've been thinking.  You may or may not know that my wife and I have adopted our daughter Daisy.  She doesn't look much like us, but she is ours through and through.  So, I was sitting in church looking at all the pews filled with all the families with kids that look just like they do and it occurred to me that they have no idea.  And most likely you are a parent of children that look just like you do and if you would have been sitting in my chapel that week I would have though that you had no idea either.

Having adopted I have many people come up to me and tell me amazing adoption stories and how they know that the children who were adopted we "meant to be" with the parents who adopted them.  And, you know what? They are right.  That is one thing I know absolute, even more then some of the real big questions, I know that my children were meant to be mine.  Because it's so easy to see, when the dust has settled after an adoption, both successful and unsuccessful, you can look back and see every bend in the road, that was out of your control, but that brought you here, to this moment, holding your child and breathing in his brand new breath. And he is your own. Well...not your own,  I suppose that an adoptive parent does share this child with more people then a biological parent, but in the end, after the settled dust,  he is yours.

And that was the idea I had, sitting in Fast and Testimony meeting.  Biological parents think that that because their bodies can create a body for a baby that means that child is theirs or them.  But that's just it, that's all the body can do, create a shell for a fresh little spirit to jump into.  And that spirit is not half the mom and half the dad.  It's all it's own. Whole. My wife and I can't make shells so we have had to partner with people who can in order to grow our little family, and that part is amazing and wondrous and I could spend pages telling you all the little road bends that wildly changed my life to get me in the right spot, at the right time, to be in the right room to hold my child.  But that's because it all happened here on earth.  The thought came to me, for every effort made from the heavens to bring my family together, every family has gone through as much, or more, to bring the right spirits to the right shells all before ever making it down to Earth.

I like to think of the bustling office building of Heaven (even my two year old can tell you babies come from office buildings not hospitals... at least in my family they do). There is, of course, a kindhearted but stern receptionist at the front desk, Bev,  who keeps the place whole place running ship shape. She would totally say things like, "Ship Shape" and "Spit Spot!".  She heads the long hallway with heavenly florescent lights illuminating doorways hiding loose neck tied men and messy bunned women hard at work putting the right spirit children with the right earthly parents.  After all we believe, or I guess, I believe that our spirits are created by Heavenly Parents who send us down to Earth because they are sick of the constant questions from their ever curious and precocious children.

I suppose that would make all children adopted, just like mine. Well... not just like mine.  I got to see all the magic and miracles and devastation that goes into building a family.  I've got to see the pain on a birth mothers face as she hands you her newest born. And the realization that a decision made 6 years before moved you just enough to the left on a map to let you be able to be this girls father.  Adoption is messy and hard and ultimately wonderful for half involved and devouring for other half. But so it was for every family once.  So perhaps, next time you are sitting in church and you look to your right and there are a mess of kids and then, at the end, your spouse,  just remember how little you had to do with the selection of spirits sitting between you.  Take a moment and close your eyes and whisper the same thing every adoptive parent has whispered since the beginning of time, "Thanks Bev."

 *******

 Also, I would love to introduce you to the newest member of our family.   After, I promise, many many bends in a miraculous road, last Tuesday, and forever, we brought home Milo Patrick Livingston.  

And he's amazing!

  

*He's the one on the left*