Category Archives: Adoption

Breathtaking views

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I am travelling for work this week, so the weekend has been a bit of a scramble packing, organizing things around the house and dealing with errands. So, it was a lovely break to take a hike with my friend Sophia. Somehow, all these years in the Bay Area, I have never hiked Mt Tam in Marin. I’m not sure why—it’s such an iconic location for the Bay AreaMt Tam View with views of the Pacific, the bay, San Francisco and the entire Bay Area. You can see Mt Tam even from Berkeley and most days on our evening walk, Bodhi and I catch the sun setting over Mt Tam in the distance. I’ve been all over but somehow never made it onto Mt Tam. I love hiking and one of my favorite things about living in the Bay Area is the easy access to outdoors and nature. It’s still amazing to me that minutes from the city, you can be in the middle of nowhere.  I love the fact that I am able to be outside every day, with relatively little effort. I love also that the people who live here feel so connected to nature and that so much effort is made to preserve special places like Mt Tam. Pt Reyes in Marin and Tilden Park, here in Berkeley.  Saturday was as a beautiful day—there was a bit of fog but what would San Francisco be without fog! Even with the fog, the views over the city were amazing. Sophia, who grew up here always laughs at me when I shout about how beautiful some view is and how lucky I am to live here. I do feel that way. I grew up on the east coast, in Connecticut, and went to college in New England too. California was not on my mindset. My first time in California was coming to San Francisco for graduate school interviews. I was quickly hooked. I remember driving through the Berkeley hills and over the Bay Bridge and that was it. I needed to be here. I still feel really lucky and blessed to be able to make my life here.  I am looking forward to sharing this all with my child and introducing him/her to all that is so special about this amazing place. There are now quite a few more hassles about living in the Bay Area than when I lived here first as a graduate student—the cost of living, the traffic, the crowds—but even today, whenever I catch a view of the Golden Gate Bridge coming, or the sunset over the Pacific, or the glistening hills of San Francisco,  I still catch my breath and say to myself, “how lucky am I!”

A Birthmother’s View of Adoption

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NYTimes Modern LoveThe New York Times Modern Love podcast this week was an essay written by Amy Seek which recounts her experience as a birthmother in an open adoption. I love the Modern Love column and of course, when I saw the topic of the column on my phone, I immediately read it and then read it again and again. It’s a beautiful, honest and brave piece but also gut wrenching. It would have been a difficult read even if I weren’t in the midst of hoping to adopt, but from my current vantage point, it stirred up so many difficult thoughts and emotions. After reading the Modern Love piece, I immediately bought the author’s memoir “God and Jetfire” and devoured the book this weekend. It’s a hard book read, but everyone involved in adoption—birthparents, adoptive parents, adoptive children–should read this book. Amy Seek was a 23 year old college student when she found out she was pregnant. She was in a good relationship with her boyfriend at the time but they were young and not ready to be parents, so they make the difficult decision to place their child for adoption, and without knowing much about open adoption until learning about it from a social worker, they chose this path for themselves and their child and ultimately placed their son with a adoptive couple, she calls them Paula and Eric in the book and Holly in the essay. From one perspective their story actually seems the “model” open adoption scenario. Amy and her boyfriend actively sought out and chose their child’s adoptive parents. They approached their decision rationally and thoughtfully. The adoptive parents fully embraced the open adoption philosophy. Amy visits with her son and his family regularly. Both extended families are involved. There are no secrets about the adoption and her son now a teenager seems by all accounts well-adapted and happy. Isn’t this what the “ideal” open adoption is supposed to be like? As an adoptive parent isn’t this what I’m supposed to be striving for? And yet, while the picture seems so perfect and right, it’s clear that even a “good” open adoption, like any adoption, is complicated and emotional, and there are losses on all sides and that even with acceptance and time moving on, the effects last a lifetime. Amy describes her son’s adoption as both her “greatest accomplishment and deepest regret,”  and reading both the Modern Love piece and her book, her grief and loss echoes on every page. It’s a heartbreaking story to read and I found myself crying for her. Even now, not yet an adoptive parent but somewhere in between, I am acutely aware of the losses involved in open adoption, for all of us, and  especially for the birthmother.  I think about it all the time. I understand and feel that pain knowing that what is my deepest hope and desire means a loss for someone else. I appreciate that filling the hole in my heart through adoption may well mean creating a hole in someone else’s heart. I don’t take this for granted. One of the most interesting parts of the book is the relationship between Amy and the adoptive mother, Paula.  There is a scene around the time of her son’s birth, when Amy is wrestling with her decision, that describes this tension so well:

One afternoon we sat together on my futon and cried, knowing we were crying for our own exclusive concerns, and out of compassion for each other. We were tragically enmeshed; each the source of the other’s pain, each the threshold of the other’s future. We stood like tired boxers, clinging to each other to stop the beating. I could end her suffering, some of it, but only at my own expense. She was the only one who could see the magnitude of what was happening. She wasn’t telling me it was somehow good for me. She knew what was at stake; she was weighing it every moment. We were two pieces in a puzzle that were negotiating the exact shape of the cut that would at once connect and divide us. We were pressing at each other through a curtain to establish the precise profile of our grief.

Paula and husband really do everything you could expect of adoptive parents, fully welcoming Amy and her family into their extended family, going through great efforts to support the relationship. This is true also for birthfather with whom they also have a close relationship. And time and time again, Seek makes it clear her gratitude and enormous respect for them, even despite her own regrets and sadness. And she too feels how difficult this is on Paula too and the level of effort that it takes from the parents to not just maintain an openness but to really nurture it. There is a delicate dance between the two mothers, both guarding some parts of themselves and not fully revealing the depths of their emotions, all for the love and betterment of their child. That, to me, is truly what motherhood is all about. In the essay, Amy writes with appreciation of Paula, not just for what she has given her son, but for the sacrifices she makes for Amy.

… an open process forces an adoptive parent to confront the pain that adoption is built on. And openness for (Paula) does not mean merely letting the birth mother know about her child; it means cultivating a real love between birth parents and child. This requires exceptional commitment, which may be why some open adoptions become closed in the end. I LOVE (Paula) for sharing such things with me, sentiments that show she is devoted to our relationship — and not because it is easy for her.

There are many books on adoption but few from a birthmother’s perspective and I am grateful to Seek for sharing her story. Despite how difficult it was to read this book and see this side, still, I came away with a better appreciation of and more confident about open adoption. The fact that an adoption is open does not mean it’s an easy path and choosing an open adoption brings its own risks and vulnerabilities, but still I never doubted that Seek felt she made the right decision in choosing an open adoption over one that is closed. I think some part of me wanted this book to be simpler. I truly want to understand what adoption feels like for a birthmother. But I think I wasn’t fully prepared for the layers of emotion and ambiguity. A part of me wanted some affirmation that the promise of open adoption as being better for everyone—the child, adoptive parents and birthparents too—really is true and I wanted to know whether it’s true in the long run, over a lifetime. As I read Seek’s book and essay, I wondered what her son, who’s now a teenager, thinks of the book and what she writes. I hope he will read her story and see how much she loves him. I think what I appreciated most from the column and her book was the complicated and raw nature of the adoption experience for everyone involved. And also how that experience evolves over time, in ways that you can’t predict or know in advance. Adoption doesn’t end when the papers are signed. It’s not a singular event or decision. The ripples echo throughout life, throughout all the lives of people touched by it. Being complicated and challenging and uncertain does not make it a bad thing, at all. Life is complicated and messy and full of paradoxes and we do the best that we can, to embrace the ambiguities and move forward. In some way we may hope for stories and endings that are neat and tied up with a pretty bow, but so little of life is like that. I hope you have a chance to read this book.

 

Books, wisdom and friends

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Filed under Adoption, Friends and family, Only somewhat random thoughts, Quotes I like, Uncategorized

H is for HawkI love reading and books. My house is full of books and I love having them around me. I love the physical and tactile aspects of books, the look and feel of the cover, flipping pages, underlining and dog-earing sections that I want to return to. I’ve tried but am just not a Kindle gal, despite all the ease and convenience. My bliss is an afternoon in a bookstore and I have more books in my “to read”pile by my bedside than seems safe here in earthquake country. But if someone finds me buried beneath a big pile of books, at least they will know that  I went down entertained and content. One of the the gems of every month is my third Tuesday dinner with my book group. I feel so lucky to have landed in this great group of women book lovers and look forward to our dinners each month. We hit our three year anniversary for the group this month and have shared so many amazing books. Books aside, this group, these women, have been such a treasure in my life. We usually start each dinner with wine and cheese and chatter, about whatever is going on in our lives, sharing in the ups and downs of life, from kids and spouses, work and travel, to the inevitable losses and grieving that comes with lives lived and loved. They’ve been a big support for me during this adoption journey and I’m so, so appreciative of all of them. Thank you, ladies!

But back to the book, this month we read “H is for Hawk” by Helen MacDonald. “H” is memoir, about how the author, when confronted with the sudden death of her father, decides, in her grief, to take on the training of a goshawk. Although she’s an expert falconer, the goshawk, is one of the most difficult and fierce hawks to train. She pitches herself into the challenge, and taming the hawk became a metaphor for taming her grief about losing her father. In between, she delves into the history of falconry and side-winds  into the literature and life of TH White, the author of “The Once and Future King,” imagineeer of Merlin and the stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Its a beautiful and multilayered book. I liked the book OK after reading it but loved it after our discussion. Having been through grief and loss and in some ways, still feeling raw from the experience, there is an aspect of the wildness and isolation that the author went through that I can so relate to…even if I can’t imagine training a hawk. Yet what I find so magical about our group is that I appreciated the book so much more after our discussion, especially from the perspective of the writing and narrative style. In fact, I came home and re-read parts to take it in again. There is a particular paragraph in “H is for Hawk” that so resonated with my own experiences about loss and moving on:

There is a time in life when you expect the world to be always full of new things. And then comes  a day when you realise that is not how it will be at all. You see that life will become a thing of many holes. Absences. Losses. Things that were there and are no longer. And you realise, too, that you have to grow around and between the gaps, though you can put your hand out to where things were and feel that tense, shining dullness of the space where the memories are.

So well said. I think of my own life and moving forward from loss and lines like this offer some comfort and understanding of loss and grief as a universal experience that we all go through. Even this adoption process has that tinge of loss attached to it. There is, of course, the bright possibility of this new life, this new person and all that they will become. Of a new family and a new life together. But this all exists too in the shadow of a very real loss, for the birthmother of course but also for those of us hoping to adopt. We feel this too. How can you not, as a parent-to-be of an adoptive child not feel this loss too. It’s a loss they and I will live with and move on from for the rest of our lives.  I think so much about what making this decision must be like for a birthmother. I can’t truly imagine it let alone truly understand what this experience is like. It is not my life after all. But I do so appreciate that what will be my happiest day, will be a day of tremendous loss for another woman, another woman who will love my child as much as I do. I think about this often, in fact, and am so awed by the courage and grace that it takes to make this kind of decision.

 

 

 

 

Happy new year!

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redwoods muir woodsHappy new year everyone! It seems that planning for New Year’s Eve always loom so large —-what to do, who to do it with. Staying in seems boring but going out on the town is such an effort. I can count on one hand the number of truly exciting New Year’s eves in my life and yet, somehow many of us hold ourselves to this impossible standard of “having plans” for the big night. I took this past week off from work and had lots of fun things on my list but since I’ve been recovering from a Christmas cold (thanks, Otto!), I ended up mostly laying low this week, catching up on sleep, reading and TV (Homeland! Was that a great season or what!). This turns out to be exactly what I needed. So, New Year’s this year was also purposefully (and perfectly) low key. I started New Year’s eve day with a walk in the redwoods at Muir Woods with my friend Sophia. Somehow, I have never been and it’s been on my “Bay Area must see” list. Such a majestic and beautiful place. It’s awe inspiring and humbling to think about these trees having  been here for thousands of years. And somehow equally amazing to think that this beautiful ancient forest is just minutes from the hustle and bustle of San Francisco. I feel such luck and gratitude to be able to live in such a special part of the world. New Year’s eve I spent with my friends Victoria and Luis and two of my favorite tots, Eleanor and Sebastian for an early new year’s eve dinner and toast “Falkland Island’s style”— I’ll bet you didn’t know that the Falkland Islands celebrate their NY’s Eve at 7pm our time! New Year’s day I went to a New Year’s meditation retreat Spirit Rock Meditation Center. It was a perfect way to start the year, with clarity of mind and intention. I’ve been thinking a lot about new year’s resolutions. Front and center of my mind is becoming a Mom. Above all. I want so much for 2016 to be the year that I become a Mom, but I also know (and largely accept) that I have very little control over this and it’s not ideal to frame a resolution around something I can only partially control. Might as well resolve for world peace, in that case. So, my best alternative resolution this year is to commit to living life openly and fully. I will ‘say yes’ where before I might have waffled or declined. I will look for ways to open myself up to new experiences, and I will look forward to this adoption journey, wherever it takes me. Happy New Year’s everyone! I hope this is a great year for you.

Waiting is the hardest part

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WaitingBeing  in waiting limbo is just hard. The first parts of the adoption process involve this huge amount of activity and time. There are a crazy numbers of forms, classes, meetings with counselors, organizing of photos, writing of profiles, writing the Adoption Letter, preparing for the home study, books to read, putting together of websites and online profiles. And this is just after you’ve decided on an adoption strategy. Its a big decision and takes a lot of time to settle on the right adoption path–Foster adoption vs agency. Domestic vs international. Lawyer or no lawyer. For me, these practical decisions came to after years of personal soul searching and thinking and research, so it was a surprise to me how much time and effort the application process took. After all this activity, its kind of shocking to the system to suddenly be done with all the preparations, to have your profile be “live” as they say and to be faced by the silence of waiting. It’s like walking out of a bustling party into a silent room. At first there’s a breath of relief, to be alone and quiet, but then soon the thoughts turn to “where is everybody?” “Why am I not getting any emails or phone calls.” Even tougher is that its a weird kind of waiting. It’s not an anticipatory waiting where you can count down the days on the calendar and there aren’t any signs of anything happening, no pregnancy belly to show that something is happening. Its not clear when the call will come, or even whether it will ever come. It could be today, or tomorrow or next week or next year or the year after. It’s a particularly hard limbo to be in. Of course, everyone warns you about this when you embark on the adoption process. Yet, somehow, despite all the warnings and discussions about the waiting process during the adoption classes, I didn’t anticipate that waiting would be so hard for me. I’m actually a pretty patient person, and my life is very full. It’s not that I had an absence of activities to keep me busy. And truth be told, I was glad to be getting beyond all the forms and applications and find some time to get back to other parts of my life, like seeing friends, taking a vacation, getting back to hobbies that had been relegated to the sidelines during the adoption application process. But even still, for a person with a busy life, the waiting is hard, really hard.

“You take it on faith, you take it to the heart. The waiting is the hardest part”  –Tom Petty

There are moments of intense doubt and regret, about whether this will work out for me, whether I waited too long, whether anyone would choose me. Weirdly enough even in the waiting space and despite the endless preparations, thoughts of “am I ready” creep in. Early on in the waiting process, I was worried about ever being away from the phone or my email, because I didn’t want to miss a call from the agency. Any unknown number that popped up on the phone causes a skip in my heartbeat—“maybe this is the call.” I put off planning vacations for fear of being away or having to cancel. Looking forward and making plans or commitments for the future, for anything beyond a few weeks, feels harder than it should. Friends kindly ask about how the adoption process is going and whether there’s any news and all you can say is “just waiting.” Even with friends there to cheer you on, its a really lonely kind of waiting. And then, as with so many things, you get used to it, and the waiting limbo somehow becomes the new normal. This settling in phase, too, has an ominous edge. “I’m kind of getting used to this.” I worry that slipping into “getting used to it” might slip further into “maybe this won’t ever happen” and then “maybe I’ll be OK if this never happens.” I’m most scared of that. Your mind is meant to adapt to life as it flows and to be resilient and move on from disappointment when it happens but when does resilience mean giving up? These are the thoughts that spiral through your head while you’re in waiting limbo. My agency has been good about preparing us for this. There are support groups to connect with and lists of things to do (and not to do) while waiting. The strategy that I’ve settled into is some combination of busyness and mindfulness. Having lots to do keeps my mind focused on activities other than waiting helps. Starting this blog and updating my adoption site feels like I’m doing all I can do help the stars align. My work keeps me busy of course. I’ve been working on some house renovations and “nesting” fix-ups. This coming year, I’ve decided to plan a bigger “bucket list” vacation. I’ll buy trip insurance and if I have to cancel, I will. A  number of years ago I started meditating and took up a mindfulness practice. It’s no understatement to say that this has in so many ways changed the way I approach life. I’ve found the principles of mindfulness really helpful for not only tolerating but even embracing this waiting period. Mindfulness is about being with each moment for what it is, about learning to accept things for what they are , not for what they once were or what they might become. It’s about letting go of one’s own control of the future. For a lifelong type A,-very independent and productivity oriented person, learning to be able to say “however this works out is OK” and mean it has been a big, big deal.  I emphasis the “learning to” because I am still learning and practicing this mindset. They don’t call it “mindfulness practice” for nothing. I am learning to sit with the feelings of impatience, anxiety and worry of not knowing, and let go of the desire to be in control.  I’m even learning to enjoy the spaciousness of the now and the liberation of not needing to control or even know how things will turn out. Accepting the unknown is a big part of mindfulness and its certainly been helpful for me in living the adoption process. I’m trying to be more open to letting life unfold as it will, knowing that I do have the strength within me to deal with whatever curve balls do come my way. I do have faith that there is a child out there for me, and I know that however things happen, whenever things happen, it will all be OK.

 

 

Choosing Motherhood

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Stork2Friends have sometimes asked me about how I came to decision to make a go at being a single Mom.  For me it was a long time and a winding road coming to this point. I think I started thinking seriously about becoming a single mom in my late-thirties, I suppose relatively late, but then I’ve always been a bit of a late bloomer in life. Some have asked me why I waited. I never really thought about this time as “waiting.” I’ve never been one to be waiting around. I wasn’t “waiting” for a husband (I was pretty happy without one, actually). Sure, I might have been happy (and still would be—hint for any matchmakers out there!) to meet the man of my dreams, get married, have a baby, have that life. But that wasn’t where my life was and I wasn’t “waiting.” I was just living my life.  My twenties and early thirties were a lot about school and finding myself professionally—deciding to going to grad school, getting my PhD, finding a job. Over the years, there was a lot going on in my family, and at my job, and I think I tended to focus on those responsibilities first, more perhaps than focusing at my own life.  So, there I was, in my late thirties, when I really started thinking seriously about being a Mom, on my own. My way of handling challenges is to immerse myself in research and information, to try to figure it out rationally and logically (that’s the scientist in me!) and pursuing motherhood, or as I liked to think about it at the time “the baby maybe question” was no different. I did a lot of reading (boy, did I do a lot of reading on this), joined some single mom groups, did some hard looking at my lifestyle and finances and how this might work. It was all very logical and deliberate. The thing about becoming a single mom this way was that it is really a very deliberate choice; not an accident, not something I negotiated with a partner, but an active choice. I thought a lot about this from the perspective of the child, and to be honest, at times, had some misgivings about bringing a child into a solo parenting situation, whether this would be fair to them.  I had a great childhood and a wonderful Dad. Would it be fair to deprive a child of having a Dad? I grew up with a Mom and a Dad and to be honest, didn’t have many (any?) single parents in my life growing up, or at least single moms who had chosen to be single moms, as opposed divorce or losing a spouse. I read some more, talked some more, thought some more. I thought about the kind of Mom I would want to be, about how I would want to raise this child. There was a lot of “is this the right choice,” “should I do this,” and looking back maybe not enough “do I want to do this.” It was ultimately when I took a class/workshop called “Motherhood—Is it for me?” that I had my epiphany. The class brought together women from all sides for the question—single women, partnered women, ones who thought they might want kids and those who didn’t think so but were unsure or with partners who wanted kids. It was in that group, with that great group of women, all so brave and willing to share their personal lives in such an open way, that it dawned on me that this isn’t a choice that can be made by rational calculation, its one you feel in your heart. This isn’t about “should I” but “what do I feel, what’s in my heart” And when I let myself, I did feel the pull of motherhood and a child deeply in my heart. That epiphany opened up my thinking and I could see more clearly that in my heart of hearts, being a Mom, having a family, was always something I wanted for my life and I could see that I would be a great Mom for someone, someday. And I didn’t have to have all the logistics figured out to be confident that this was what I wanted and the right path for me. Yes of course, one needs to be rational and make sure that the resources are also in place, but when I could see that more objectively, I could see that I do have everything I need to be a great Mom. And so I decided to take the leap. Of course, being single and without a partner meant that once I had “decided” it’s not like I could just get out there and make a baby, so to speak. It took more time— loads more time—and a lot effort, to get me to the point of being here. It’s been a long road to get here and I suppose sometimes I wish I had rushed things along, but that wouldn’t be my story then. And I wouldn’t then be here now, finding my way to the baby who would be my child, however that comes to be.

Neurobiology and Parenting

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child brain1I’m a neuroscientist and in the course of some of my work reading, I’ve been reading and thinking more about the brain development and critical periods, and how this relates to child cognitive development.  It’s known that the first few years of a child’s life are critical for proper brain development and there is some interesting work being done on the impact of social influences on early cognitive development. Good parenting, and a loving nurturing environment are known to be critical for a child’s development. There’s data to show that the care a child receives during this first critical period has a strong influence on who that little one will grow up to be, even beyond childhood.  Less clear has been what’s going on in the brain that mediates these effects. How is it that experiences in this early window of life last for so long? What’s going on in a child’s brain during this period? I recently saw an interesting episode of the Charlie Rose Show this week on the neuroscience of parenting which addressed this topic.

A brief divergence before saying more about this topic— I am a big Charlie Rose fan. I just love this show. He has great guests and is really a thoughtful interviewer on a wide array of topics. Charlie Rose has an ongoing series on the brain which brings together leading neuroscientists (many of whom I know well from working on Neuron) to discuss current research in neuroscience. Eric Kandel (by the way, I’m proud to say one of Neuron’s editorial Nobel prize winning ed board members!) hosts the show with Charlie Rose. It’s pretty cool to see people you know and admire on Charlie Rose but more so, I think the show does a great job of discussing the science at a pretty high but still accessible level. Being a science nerd, I just love this stuff!! I know, you would think that I’d have enough neuroscience from work and would spend my off hours watching more mindless TV (I do that too, don’t worry! Just get me going about the latest episode of Scandal!).

In any case, this Charlie role episode on parenting was really interesting. The show covered a very wide array of topics related parenting  from the hormonal control of parental bonding, to the importance of social interactions and caregiving on early life development, to post-partum depression. Through my work, I’ve read a lot of this research literature already but I really liked how the show brought some very diverse science together in a very “real world” way.  I’d highly recommend watching it: Charlie Rose Brain Series: The Biology of Parenting

I was especially struck by the work on the brain circuits and mechanisms that control parental bonding. It turns out that parental bonding behavior is both hard-wired in the brain and also under powerful hormonal influences. We now understand that there are particular parts of the brain and particular neuropeptides in the brain that drive bonding behavior. It’s thought that post-partum depression, which often comes with a feeling of not being able to bond with one’s baby, might have something to do with abnormal fluctuations of these hormones. I started thinking about this from the perspective of adoption and especially from a birth mother’s perspective. Bonding with your baby and loving your baby is neurally and hormonally hardwired. Your heart and your head are working together. And yet, for a birth mom, she really needs to step outside of her own biology and her own feelings and make a really, really hard decision of what is ultimately best for her child, not just for now but for an entire lifetime. Not being in that situation myself, I can’t imagine how it feels to be faced making such a difficult decision, while confronting strong emotions, surging pregnancy hormones and a naturally growing bond with the  baby you are carrying. I do know that taking the steps to do best by ones child, setting aside one’s own interests and feelings (and biology!), shows an awe-inspiring level of fortitude, bravery and selflessness.

Ten things I hope to teach my child

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Ten things to teach my child

Ten things to teach my child

During one part of the process for writing and designing my adoption letter, the designer I was working with suggested exercises to stir the creative juices for writing the text for the letter. One was to make a list of the five things you hope to teach your child. I didn’t end up using this for the letter, but was inspired  and came up with ten. To be honest, I’m still learning some of these myself—see #6!

So, here they are…

Ten things I hope to teach my child:

  1. Be curious. Ask questions. Explore the world around you.
  2. Be kind and loving with others.
  3. True friends are rare finds. Cherish them.
  4. Learn to look on the bright side, even when it’s hard to find.
  5. Work hard but have fun too.
  6. Embrace imperfection
  7. Respect yourself and others too.
  8. Be open-minded  and don’t judge.
  9. Be brave—you can do anything.
  10. Above all, be true to yourself

Support group musings

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Stork 2The adoption agency I am working with (IAC/Independent Adoption Center) has monthly support groups. I braved the rush hour traffic tonight to go to this month’s meeting which was focused on the hospital visit.  I am not feeling anywhere  near the point of heading to the hospital to meet my baby and his birthmom (though, as they say, you never know when fate will intervene), but I decided to go to the meeting because I’ve been feeling a little down about being in this “waiting” limbo state and I thought it might help to connect with other families. It was a smaller more intimate meeting than others I have been to but really helpful. There were two families who brought their recently adopted newborns.Both were such cuties and about Otto’s age so of course I missed Otto. There were three other people prospective adoptive parents (a couple and a half of a couple), all of whom are, like me, in waiting limbo. Most have been waiting a lot longer than I have so I felt a bit bad to be feeling restless. Some had suffered through some really difficult situations on their adoption journey and their willingness to share even these most difficult stories and feelings was touching.  For all of us throwing our lots into the open adoption lottery—adoptive and wanna-be parents and birthparents alike—this is such a giant leap of faith. There are so many unknowns and no guarantees. The whole process is for the sake of this baby and the fated “match”, but we are as much committing to each other, enjoining our lives (whether to lesser or greater degree), our families, our hopes and dreams for this child. I’ll be honest and say that at times, this all feels very weighty and I’ll admit as well that this was probably more than I  expected to take on when I started this process. But at the same time, despite the complexities, the unknowns, the angst and yes, even the waiting, I feel fully committed to this path and confident that it will work out . The adoption counselor kept telling us “in the end, it will all be worth it.” I believe her, even if its hard to feel that now.

Well, hello there!

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Filed under Adoption

Waiting for my stork

Welcome to my blog! My very first blog! I’ve started this blog as a place to write about my adoption journey—for myself, for my family and friends, for potential birth moms and families, and someday, for you, my little one, to learn what my life and world were like before you came along. 

Where to start? Just getting to the point of deciding to blog was a BIG deal for me. Aside from being a blogging newbie and generally overwhelmed by the online world, I’ve never kept a diary or been much into journal writing and I’ve never been all that comfortable about having my life out there visible in the online world. I’m a Facebook lurker not a poster. I’ve managed to avoid, for many years now, the pressure of having my photo on my work’s webpage. Those of you who know me well, know that I’m at heart a very private person, so this is a whole new experience. But, one of the many things that the adoption process teaches you, is to embrace openness and leave any qualms you might have had about privacy behind. So far, this has been one of the (many) unexpected gifts of taking this leap of faith towards adoption—becoming a more open person, not only about adoption but other parts of life too. More on that later.

Before I go, some of you who may not be fully immersed in the world of babies and baby iconography, may ask about the title I chose. In Germany, where I’m from, the folklore goes that storks deliver babies to eagerly awaiting families via the chimney of their house. Well, I’m ready for my stork to arrive…very, very ready.