The pain of saying "no"

We received our first call this week. As soon as I heard Jen's voice on the other end, I thought "Oh God, here we go!" But then she asked if there was any chance we'd be interested in matching with a birth mom in Chicago, due with twin African-American boys, in just a couple months.

You might think the first clue we said "no" in that offer was the "twins" part, but believe it or not, we would have considered it... if the mom weren't all the way in Chicago. In truth, Jen knew what our answer would most likely be, but since twins, especially African-American twins, are very difficult to find parents for, she thought she'd give us a try. Our paperwork says we're only open to birth moms living in California, and I'm pretty sure we didn't check the box that said "twins" either, so we really shouldn't have been called in the first place. This only tells me they didn't have anyone else, and that made saying "no" really difficult.

It didn't even take us sixty seconds to decide. Having P.J makes out-of-state travel too difficult, since most states require a new baby to stay in state lines for at least 10 days. Staying in a hotel w/P.J for that long, or leaving her with someone back home for that long, just isn't an option. Not to mention the additional cost of traveling out-of-state and paying an outside agency to handle all the paperwork. We also know from experience, that turning a car around is far easier than taking a long flight home if things don't work out. But having never really set limitations on potential matches before, it still felt hard to say no. It was simple enough to tell Jen, "Chicago is a deal breaker," and she expected us to say as much. But after we hung up the phone we kept thinking about it.

Practically speaking, there's just no way we could take on twins before P.J even turns 2 yrs old, or risk flying to Chicago. We know without a doubt it was the right call. But turning down two precious children who need a home is never easy. I hope and pray those twin boys have a loving adoptive family to go home to, and I'm just a little sad it's not ours.

The past revisted

Some time ago Zach received a friend request on Facebook from Katerina, the first birth mom we were ever matched with (August 2010). For those of you that may not remember, this was by far the closest relationship we had with any of the 7 birth mothers we were matched with (to read the details you can go back to some of our very first posts on this blog). She had not made any contact with us since she made the decision to keep her baby. We heard the news from our adoption agency, just a few short weeks before the baby's due date. It being our first match and first experience EVER with a birth mom, it would have been heartbreaking no matter what, but we'd had a close, ongoing relationship with Kat for over three months.  We went to doctor's visits, found her and her 2 yr. old a place to live, supported her financially, and spoke with her on the phone at least once a week. She never showed us any signs of wavering, so when we got the call we felt betrayed and stunned. We were angry that she didn't have the "decency" or "respect for us" to call us and tell us herself. (In hindsight, of course, we realize how selfish this was on our part. Had we been in her shoes, I seriously doubt we would have had the courage to call and break the hearts of the two people who loved our baby as much as we did.)

Obviously, we moved on and experienced many more disappointments after that, but the experience with Kat hurt the most. I still think about it sometimes, and my heart aches. In hindsight, we can look back and see how God used us to help Kat and her son get to a place that was safe, a place where she could keep her baby and provide for it in a loving home. Once, a few months after I knew Kat would have given birth, I searched for her on Facebook and found pictures of her new son.. what would have been OUR son. It hurt like hell and I scolded myself for giving in to such sick curiosity. But at the same time, I was also assured that the baby was safe, healthy, and even happy. Kat looked happy too, and that gave me what I needed to move on. 

The message she sent to Zach last week read like this: 

"Hey, I was scared to contact you guys. We are good. God is good Zach. I'm very sorry for every hurt I caused you. My boys are happy and a handful. I was on your Facebook couple times, I'm so glad you are happy. Life is good..."

It's weird to receive closure long after you feel like you even need it. For months I longed to hear exactly these words from Kat, an apology and a reassurance that she and her boys are okay. I think about her and the five other birth moms we met along our journey. I think about the babies they chose to keep, and pray they are all safe and healthy. I bet they think about us sometimes too. It's satisfying to know that Kat knows we are okay, that we moved on and have a beautiful daughter, that we are all with the children we are meant to be with, whether we understand why or not. 

Mother's Day

This Sunday I will be celebrating my second Mother's Day. It's still surreal. There were many Mother's Days before Providence that I sat and cried in church as all the other moms stood up to be applauded. Even when were matched with a birth mother and expecting a child, I didn't feel much like a mother-to-be, because, at any moment, as I knew all too well, I could become a mother-that-wasn't.

Much like on Providence's birthday, I know I will think a lot about her birth mother this Sunday. I wonder about her mix of emotions. Technically she's a mother- she carried a baby for nine months and went through labor and delivery, but she went home empty-handed. That must feel strange. It might feel just as strange as it does for me. I celebrate Mother's Day even though I've never carried a child in my body and gone through the painful yet joyful experience of labor and delivery. I wasn't there the moment Providence entered the world, but her birth mom was. She will always have the moment. As difficult as it still is for me to accept that, I'm glad she has a little something to take with her. For her sake, I'm glad she has that moment to herself, to treasure and keep in her heart. I have a lifetime of moments with Providence that her birth mother will never have. I can't be jealous, I can only be grateful.

Sometimes the questions and curious looks from other parents exhaust me. I find myself swallowing a lump in my throat when I have to explain to yet another stranger that Providence is not biologically mine, that she's "at least 3/4 Filipino... we think," or that I don't know anything about her birth father. I think biological parents take it for granted that they know all the ins and outs of their kids and that they'll never get a question they can't answer. I console myself by saying that there's no way any biological child of mine would ever be as brilliant, beautiful, joyful and charming as Providence, so I actually got the better deal. :-) To be honest, I've never ONCE wished I had a biological child instead of my adopted child. The looks and questions from strangers are the only time I'm even reminded that she's not "mine." When it's just the two of us, or even with our family of three, I don't give it another thought. Providence is our daughter, one hundred percent, without question. I don't stare at her features and wish they resembled mine or Zach's, or long for her to inherit my family traits. I love everything about her, whoever her features and traits come from.

This Sunday I will think back on the moment I became a mother, because it really was just a "moment." I didn't have the nine months to transition and prepare myself. Though I'd signed paperwork and passed inspections and "nested," nothing could have prepared me for that first meeting with Providence. Just 36 hours after even knowing she existed, I became her mom. I may not have the same story and experiences as my friends who gave birth to their own children, but I know I love my daughter more than life itself, and THAT is what being a mother is all about.