When I think back over the past several years about how the Lord chose to grow our family through adoption I can hardly believe it! I remember driving home from Tennessee and Greg and I making the decision to begin "the process". Our biggest concern was the time commitment. We were going to have to start foster licensing classes, CPR/First Aid certification, Fire inspection, a Home Study...and a long complicated "wait".
After about 7 months we got a phone call about a little girl that was 6 months old - we were to be her third foster home. I will never in , my whole life, forget the first time that I met her. Our case worker called me to meet her at the hospital. It was about 40 degrees outside. When I saw her, she was wearing only a t-shirt and a diaper...she was wrapped in a Pittsburgh Steelers blanket. I remember thinking that her head was perfectly round and that she looked Samoan. I remembered making a conscious note, "She could be your daughter so make this moment 'count'." She was laying on the hospital bed in the emergency room, two case workers were setting there. I leaned over her, thinking that she didn't look
anything like I had expected and said, "Hi baby, I love you...it's going to be ok." She was very sick and we stayed in the hospital over Easter weekend getting her well.
The emotion that accompanied the foster to adopt process is something that is difficult to put into words. I usually compare this time to what it must feel like if your child to has a terminal illness. I felt as if I were always waiting for her to be snatched away and all of the "investment" was to be lost. However, that was not the case.
I can still smell the courtroom. On the day of our mediation- this is when you, the foster parent, meets with birth parents, grandparents, etc., to say basically, "If you will voluntarily terminate your parental rights- we will do these things...i.e., send pictures twice a year, let you see them once with in the next year...whatever you feel comfortable with - which lasted most of the morning... we were "spent". We had lunch with the case workers and then "finished up" in the juvenile court. Leaving the court room that day made it all seem o.k. We drove to the house, my mother in law had cooked dinner for us, we ate and I went directly to bed. I was so tired - from the last 8 months.
The fostering aspect revealed alot to me about myself. The fact that I would view my "investment" as a loss if she were not to be raised by us. The fact that I really didn't care about her birth parents "wishes" for her until we had reached the mediation process revealed the "superior" view I had of myself concerning them. They were young, and "products" of their environments.
I can not remember a time when I have been so aware of myself and of everyone around me as the day that our third daughter became a "Fields". It was very "real" and almost tangible. A legal change, a gavel hit, a pronouncement made...and generations, families and futures were forever altered.
This has been one of the most difficult, invigorating, tiring, and messy endeavors that our family has ever been a part of. There are days when I look at my children, the ones who are made of someone else's DNA, have different mannerisms and foreign expressions, and I feel like I am trying to communicate with a stranger who lives in my house. There are days that I feel like I will never break through the fog that seems to rest over the deep black eyes of
my little girl. There are hugs that seem distant and looks that I'm sure some relative would recognize.
But then there is another day. There are little feet that run to
me in the early morning hours and faint voices saying, "Mommy, I'm scared." There are prayers that I
know would have never been prayed and songs that would've
never been sung. There are two big sisters who would've never known the joy of having two little sisters. There are tickles that would've died and clean towels that would not have been used. There are grandma's that would've never known the love of these two little bundles and lots of chocolate milk sippy cups never made. My heart seems to grow wider and deeper when I hear them sing , "Jesus loves me this I know."
As one friend said, "Adoption is not for the weak." It is messy...but it is also beautiful. I would not change a thing.
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