Grief

As we mentioned in our post about why we are adopting, we decided to adopt because we felt that God was calling us to build our family through adoption, not because of infertility issues.  Because of this, I ignored all the warnings about adoptive parents’ grief as they mourn the loss of the ability to have a biological child.  “Nope, doesn’t apply to me,” I thought.  “I chose this.  Heck, I don’t even WANT to be pregnant.  Whew – dodged that bullet!”

And then I got completely flattened by grief.

It hit suddenly and without any warning.  I was watching a video of my newest nephew kicking from inside his mamma’s belly, and I realized that I would never have the experience of being pregnant… of finding out and then waiting anxiously for Jason to get home so I could tell him… of having random cravings in the middle of the night… of looking up our baby’s week-by-week stats and finding out that he is now the size of a mango or a cantaloupe or whatever fruit analogies they use… of hearing the heartbeat for the first time… of feeling her kick… of maternity pants (since all you mamas say they are the best thing ever invented and you are never going back to regular pants)… of finding a creative way to tell the grandparents. 

The grief was sudden, and swift, and deep.  The sobs erupted from somewhere deep inside of me.  It hurt to breathe.  It hurt to move.  It hurt to cry, but I didn’t seem to have any control over that.  A box of tissues later, I fell asleep, hoping for a brighter morning…

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Several months later, as I reflect on this time of grieving, I’m surprised to find myself grateful for it.  I’m grateful for having that moment of closure that I didn’t even know I needed.  I’m grateful because of the sympathy I now have with many families who are struggling with infertility.  I’m grateful for the conversation it sparked between Jason and me, and for the chance for us to work through these issues and come out with a renewed commitment to adoption.  As one of my favorite writers says, “In my observation of sorrowful things and wonderful things I see that they’re all tangled up together, maybe even holding hands.”  (www.calliefeyen.com/?p=252) I love beauty of the picture that paints – don’t you?   

Parallels

Why do we care about adopting?  It is because WE are the “unadoptable ones.”  God, out of his goodness and love for us, brought us near to Himself and adopted us as his children.  “We love because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19).

This video is an excellent look at several different aspects of adoption.  We would encourage you to watch the whole thing (leave yourself about 35 minutes), but if you only have a few minutes to spare, start from 23:04 and watch the last ten minutes.  That last portion articulates the parallels between adopting a child and God’s adoption of us better that anything we’ve come across yet. 

Fun fact:  The guy on stage is Jeannine’s best-friend-from-childhood’s big brother.  Very cool to grow up and have him impact us through his story all these years later!)

Transracial Adoption

“Are you willing to adopt a child of another race of your own?” our social worker asked.  “Sure,” we said as we looked at each other and shrugged.  “Why not?”

As we drove home, we discussed all the questions we had been asked in our interviews.  “We need to look up Fetal Alcohol Syndrome,” I noted, and wrote it on my list of things to research.  “What about the transracial thing?” Jason asked.  “No big deal,” I said.  “I would just need to figure out how to do a little black girl’s hair – and maybe we could take her to some cultural events as she grows up.”

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Fast forward a few months and I find myself sitting in a meeting at work about race and ethnicity and culture, discussing the fears that black parents have about their children growing up in a still-racially-prejudiced society.  “Really?” I thought.  “Is that still an issue or are they just being paranoid?” 

Enter my moment of realization that racial issues are alive and well today and that we can’t – and shouldn’t – ignore those issues, especially when we are thinking about raising a child of another race.  Suddenly, I was flooded with questions.  What were we getting ourselves into?  Would adopting a child from another race put that child at a disadvantage because we didn’t understand what life would be like for him or her?  Would our child grow up confused?  How does racial identity develop?  Does racial identity really matter? 

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After all the research I’ve done, three things stick out to me: 

(1)    On being color blind:  I used to believe that the ultimate goal was to be “color blind.”  God loves all of his people and we were all created by Him and we are all the same in his eyes, right?  Right.  Except that we aren’t all the same.  We are all created uniquely, and that includes a myriad of difference races and cultural heritages.  Rather than pretending those differences don’t exist, let’s celebrate them.  Living together as a diverse group of people will undoubtedly enrich our lives, deepen our relationships, and grow us into better people. 

(2)    On racial identity:  As a former student of psychology, the study of racial identity is absolutely fascinating.  The only way I can do this topic justice is to let this book speak for itself.  Read it.  You won’t be disappointed. 

(3)    On the NABSW’s position regarding transracial adoption:  Did you know that the NABSW (National Association of Black Social Workers) says that black children should never be adopted by white parents?  They assert that it is harmful both to the individual child and to the black community.  Not only does that child grows up confused and without a racial identity, they say, but transracial adoption robs the black community of one of their children and dilutes its culture.  I had never encountered this idea before and it really shook me.  We certainly didn’t want to harm anyone by adopting!  The best book we found on this topic was In Their Own Voices, which started off with information and data about transracial adoptees and then shared interviews with many adults who were transracially adopted.  What struck me most was the fact that, despite widely varying circumstances – some good, some bad – each person said that he was blessed to have been adopted and that the bottom line was that his life was better because of it.  

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Remember all those questions I said had before I went all research-crazy?  I can’t say I’ve found all the answers yet – but I’m off to a good start.  What I have found so far has pointed overwhelmingly toward this:  Race and culture matter, and how we handle those things as parents matter.  But love?  Love trumps all.