Love Actually

I wanted to write a review about the last episode of This is Us as it encompasses my heart on so many levels.  The show is by far brilliant, giving us a picture of what a family looks like when incorporated by adoption.  In the center of it all, amidst the pain, excitement, stress and joy, is irrevocably always love.

If you aren't a super fan of This is Us (you need to watch one episode to fall in love) I will give a brief synopsis: A couple gives birth to twins, but was expecting triplets as one did not survive. A man brings a baby into the hospital the same day and states he can not care for him.  The couple, mourning the death of one baby, decides to adopt this little guy and name him Randall.  Randall is black while his family is white.  His mother meets his biological father shortly after Randall's birth.  He tells her that he is a drug addict, the baby's mother died from her addiction and he simply knew he couldn't care for their child.  He asks her if he can visit Randall from time to time and she declines that offer.  She will send photos and letters, but she doesn't feel its a good idea to be in Randall's life.  Fast forward thirty five years later and Randall discovers that his mother, Rebeca knew the identity of his biological father his entire life and did not tell him.  He is incredibly hurt and expresses an array of emotions towards his mother, which ultimately breaks her heart.

Watching this episode, I knew what would happen.  I sat watching the mother knowing why she made that choice in the past and exactly how Randall would feel.  I am an adoptee that had a closed adoption.  I have never met my birth parents.  My mom and dad were always honest and open about my adoption and what information they had.  I still do not have any identifying information about either parent.  As a child, I always believed adoption to be magical, special and distinct.  I was chosen, my parents told me.  They wanted me and they waited so long to have me in their life.  I was never made to feel as an outsider, though I truly desired to know my biological parents.  To see them.  To know whose nose I have.  What her voice sounds like, what color his eyes are and what his parents do on Sundays. I wanted to know these things because I wanted to know where I came from and who I came from as in some way to determine who I should be.

Randall felt deprived of this the moment he knew his mother had kept his biological family from him.  He thought, "Maybe I am not who I should be.  Maybe I was meant to be someone else.  Maybe my birth father could have made a difference in my life."  What he doesn't see is the view from a mother's heart.  She made a decision to protect her son and her family when she met Randall's birth father.  She probably didn't know much about adoption and didn't want a man with a drug problem and a life of instability to be involved in her son's life.  She made a decision as a mother to protect her son from disappointment, hurt feelings and confusion.  As time passed, she should have told him.  I suppose she worried what her son would think of her, what he would think of this man and ultimately what he would think of himself.

My son is adopted.  His birth parents have a past rich in drug abuse and years in jail and prison.  They want to see him.  We have a private Facebook page where I share photos and updates about what he is doing.  They have to be drug free and not have committed any crimes.  Sadly, since the adoption finalization, they both have been back in jail, not once but twice.  They have lived a life full of poor choices, but they still chose us to raise their son as our own.  One day, I will have to make the same choice Rebeca did.  I want my son to know his birth parents.  I don't want him, however to feel as though he is defined by the past choices of his parents.

His birth mother asked me never to tell him about her drug use during her pregnancy.  She said, "I don't want him to think that's a part of him.  That he will be drawn to do drugs too."  What she was really saying: "I want him to have a chance.  A different life than my own.  I don't want my past to ruin his future."

So Rebeca saw that man as a threat to her son's future, his emotional well being, his potential, his safety.  She didn't make a wrong choice, she did what all mothers do when they are given the task.  And that is to make the best decision you can for your child in that moment.  Should she have told him at some point in his adult life? Absolutely.  But sometimes, fear takes hold of our hearts and we avoid sharing that truth because we just don't know the outcome.  We fear what the other person will say and do and if they will think differently about us.  We fear losing the relationship we worked so long to build.  We fear losing love.

I have heard of some adoptive parents just not telling their children they are adopted, which is heartbreakingly wrong.  Adoption isn't something to be ashamed of or to hide in the back closet.  Choosing not to acknowledge your child has a biological family hurts everyone in the end.  Your child, like Randall won't trust you.  They will create a dichotomy that their entire life was a lie, which in some ways, it was.  Children don't need a lie or their past hidden because it wasn't perfect or their parents had a lifetime of bad choices.  If anything, we can show them that they are indeed NOT defined by choices that were not their own.  That through adoption, their parents became parents.  That even though so many bad choices were made by their biological parents, they made one very good one: to choose a better life for their child, even though it meant placing their child with a different family. And almost every time, breaking their own heart to do it.

I'm hoping Randall will talk to his mother and see her love for him.  Because when he sees who he has become, he would not be who is today without that choice she made.  And now it is his choice how to move forward.

As parents, we don't know sometimes about the choices we make today, how they will result in the future.  But we make these choices in love, we try our hardest to minimize broken hearts and struggles in our children because we want them to have every opportunity for happiness.

My son will always know that he is greatly loved by his family as he knows us and his birth family.  My wish for him is to be kind and generous to others.  And when he meets them, he will thank them for choosing his life, for giving him the journey they struggled to give themselves.

And one day, I hope to meet my birth parents.  To thank them for choosing life, for making my mom's dream of becoming a mother and for giving me the best parents on the planet.  I don't care about the details of why they couldn't keep me, because I would never be the Heidi as I am known today.

Adoption IS actually love.  In every single way. 

All for One

Comfort is a 21^st century luxury item.  And really so many of us are very comfortable from the clothes we wear to the food we eat to the cars we drive and the couch we flop onto when we come home from work.  When the idea creeps upon us as uncomfortable, we freak out.

 Every day as a mother continues to surprise me.  An unknown world creeps up on you and there is nothing you can do to control it.  Every emotion from beyond happy to super scared, crazy worried, sad and confused, out of patience to beyond happy again can consume just a single day.  I’m a mom and I never thought I would be.  And I really didn’t think I would be scared about it.  But I am.  I’m scared he won’t know that I would do it again and again just to hold him.  I would take that roller coaster ride of adoption, a hundred and one times if he was at the end of it with his bubbly smile and rosy cheeks.

I would defend him when people ask ridiculous questions about his “real” parents and try not to be overbearing in my comments when people ask, “His mother wasn’t on drugs, was she?”   I often wonder why people ask this question because they can’t imagine a mother who would snort cocaine and inject heroine daily while pregnant or if they can’t imagine someone would want a baby born to this addiction.  Yes, several mothers do drugs while pregnant.  Its 2016. (This generation barely knows who Ronald Regan was, let alone Nancy)  And yes again, several hopeful couples would want a baby born addicted to drugs.  Because the desire to become a parent has pushed aside fear of the unknown and what ifs.

I wanted a perfect adoption because I believe in the overwhelming love adoption can bring to a single person.  I never imagined our birth mother would lie.  I certainly didn’t imagine she would contest the adoption after signing her consent one month later.  Are people really this cruel?  Yes.  She threatened to harm our adoption coordinator several times.  She received over $15,000 from the other couple she had promised our child.  She accused us of lying.  And all the while, our little boy knew nothing of a mother who struggled with the woman who gave him life. 

Pope Francis has called this the year of Mercy.  So many days I fall short of being a good Catholic.  I forget to pray, I shout out ten f- curse words, I’m snotty to my husband and behind at work.  The laundry multiples like Gremlins and I’m just not really that good at ANYTHING like I used to be.  I’m just getting by.  I need to forgive her.  All the pain she caused me and what she stole from me.  But it isn’t really her I need to forgive, but myself.

I just want to be a mommy.  I want to go to library time and make crustless peanut butter and jelly.  But I have to work because adoption is $40,000.  And the roof needs to be replaced and the doorbell is broken.  And I want to be a mommy. So I keep working on how to work on it all.  Even when we know that God’s plan is better than ours and we still want what we want, He doesn’t just let us go.  This isn’t the comfy part of life.  It simply is my life. 

I’m never been afraid of working hard to have the things I want and the desire to be a parent is no different.  For the most part, our birth mother doesn’t have much contact with us.  When she does, the rush of anxiety overcomes me.  Not because I fear she will take him away, because I know she can’t, but because this person that caused me so much pain, made me a mom.  The little face that lights up with so much joy, came directly from her.  So I keep posting photos and updates so she can see him, so I can honor my word.  Because I never want my son to be disappointed that I couldn’t forgive her.  And above all, I want to kiss the feet of Jesus, because all of the struggle, the long work drives, horrible bosses, nasty customers, scary plane rides, temper tantrums and attorney fees (and more and more) was really all for Him. The life part is just not easy and comfort dissipated.  We didn’t get a perfect adoption, but we did get a perfect baby to love and love us.  I think Jesus might say to me, “I didn’t want your journey to be comfortable.  I wanted it to be worth it.”  My uncomfort really is worth eternity.