When an adoption journey turns out well and the child you bring home lives up to the dreams and expectations you had, it's easy to say it was meant to be. The child is just as smart as the biological children in the family, just as athletic as his mommy, just as into books and reading as her daddy, just as crazy about rollercoasters as the cousins, just as creative as grandma... how could such a perfect fit not be meant to be?
But when you adopt a child and after coming home find out that things are not as you thought and will never be as you imagined, many families ask, "Why us? Why did it have to turn out like this for us?" The question is often posed with a tremendous amount of grief, frustration, fear, anger, and disappointment. It comes from a painful place of shattered dreams, uncertain futures, and monumental new challenges.
When we adopted Rex, we believed we were bringing a deaf and cleft-affected child into our family. We were prepared to never hear him speak, but to communicate effectively and copiously through sign language. We had chosen a private local school for him to attend that specializes in teaching children who are deaf, hearing impaired and/or have speech disorders. We had mapped out likely surgical and orthodontic timelines that would address his cleft lip and palate. We expected him to thrive once he was healthy and given the means to express himself. We dreamed of international vacations and backyard football games, school Christmas programs and bedtime stories, college graduation and family cookouts. We had not, however, counted on a little too much genetic material in our son, not even a full additional chromosome, just a tiny region duplicated one too many times that would make all the difference and change all of our dreams.
After just six weeks of parenthood, we were the ones asking, "Why us?" I am not going to lie and say that we did not feel grieved, angry, afraid, and shocked. We did and we cried and then cried some more. But almost simultaneously our thoughts turned to, "Why not us?" Why shouldn't we be chosen to parent a child like Rex, a human being with complex and permanent needs, a boy that stole our hearts at first sight? Why shouldn't life present us with this, our greatest challenge? We had been blessed with almost everything needed to meet it: good heads on our shoulders, a positive outlook on life, financial and medical resources, the ability to learn quickly, a solid and happy marriage, great communication and problem solving skills, a sense of humor, a feeling of security and confidence about who we are as individuals, and abundant love to share. All we needed to add was a large dose of flexibility, acceptance of the unknowns and the unchangeables, and willingness to receive help. So why not us?
Despite the attitude with which we have been approaching our new normal, in draining moments where I feel I have nothing left to give, I often recite to myself these lines from The Waste Land:
| APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding | |
| Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing | |
| Memory and desire, stirring | |
| Dull roots with spring rain. |
Some days, some weeks, even some months in our family life are like T.S. Eliot's April, cruel and laborious and making us ache with continued sacrifices, unanswered questions, repeated set-backs, and unexpected losses. But we have also learned that by each painful period, our family is reborn to more hope, more grit, more joy, more resolve, more commitment, and more gratitude. And that is how we are meant to be.
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| by Carrie Lynne Photography |
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