Tonight something prompted me to write a new post after nearly 4 years of blog silence. I was thinking about a recent conversation with our daughter, Providence, on the eve of her "Gotchya Day," (the day we celebrate officially adopting her in court), and I found myself wanting desperately to write it down, so as not to forget how meaningful it was. Before I started writing I scrolled through my last few posts, written soon after the birth of our now 4 year old son. I became emotional at the memories it stirred up and I remembered why I kept this blog in the first place. It's been a beautiful outlet, a haven of sorts as my husband and I have traveled the hard roads of two different adoptions. Once those journeys ended, the writing stopped. I guess the blog didn't seem necessary anymore. But now, as my children age and conversations about their unique stories become more and more frequent, I'm realizing this journey is only just beginning.
It's funny how I practically forget that I'm not just a mom, but I'm an adoptive mom, which places me in an entirely different category than nearly all my fellow mom friends. I forget until one of my children asks me about their birth mom. Only then am I reminded that there are things I will never be able to give my children, gaps in their story I can't fill in, pieces of their history and their identity I can't reveal, try as I might.
In my most recent conversation with Providence, who is now nearly 8 years old, we covered a variety of questions regarding her adoption, including the purpose of legalizing an adoption and why we have birth certificates. Many of her questions were the same as they'd been in previous conversations, and my answers are always consistent. But this time she got more specific. She wanted to see her original birth certificate. She wanted to see what her birth mother's handwriting looked like. She wanted to know why her birth mother hadn't told her own parents about the pregnancy. She wanted to know how her birth mother didn't even know the name of her birth father. She wanted to know how she was like her birth mother, aside from just her physical appearance. I answered all of these questions with words I can only credit to the Holy Spirit. He swoops in every time these conversations happen and I'm so incredibly grateful.
Something had changed in Providence though. The information I was giving her was the same as any other time, but she responded with emotion, deep and genuine. She's always been so matter-of-fact about her story, so practical. But on this night, I saw deep disappointment in her face when I couldn't tell her anything about her birth father. And though we've talked about what she has in common with her birth mom, this time she lit up from the inside out when she saw all the similarities in personality they have. It's never seemed to matter to her more than it did that night.
Later she asked if Jacquelyn (her birth mother) has ever asked about her. This one was hard. The truth is, Jacquelyn's never asked for information or contact of any kind, even though we've left that door open to her. I would LOVE to to let Jacquelyn know how brilliant, beautiful, compassionate and artistic our daughter is. I assured Providence that her birth mother's silence is no indication of her love for her. I believe the reason her birth mother's never asked about her is because she trusts me and Zach so implicitly, and in her heart of hearts she knows Providence is healthy, happy, and thriving. We pray that even if we never get to tell her ourselves, God will assure her and give her peace that Providence is safe and well. But grown up emotions are so complicated and so hard to explain to a child. There are no simple answers.
Providence understands, truly and completely, why she was placed for adoption. She knows all about the heartache Zach and I endured as we waited through closed door after closed door to become parents. But on this night, her eyes filled with tears as it dawned on her what Jacquelyn went through. "It must have made her REALLY sad to give me away. I bet that was SO hard." The empathy level of my 7 year old had me in total awe. We both cried as we talked about the courage, bravery and profound love Jacquelyn had as she made the decision to give Providence a family, and how her heartbreak was simultaneously the biggest answered prayer Zach and I had ever received. Oh that every child could understand sacrificial love in the way my daughter does. I pray her adoption serves as a clear and beautiful example to her of Jesus' profound love for her and His children.
Finally, not for the first time, Providence asked me if Jacquelyn knows Jesus. I didn't know the answer to this, but I told her we pray if she doesn't know Him yet, that she'll come to know Him very soon. Again she became teary eyed as she said, "Oh Mommy, I really hope she knows Jesus."
In the end, we shared how grateful we both were that God placed Providence in our family, and that she is ours forever and ever. She doesn't question why she's ours and I pray she never does. The door for these conversations will always be open, and I'm glad she knows that too.
