I'm sure you're wondering what the hell my title is about, right? And you're thinking "Was Jess pregnant? Did she miscarry? I hope she's ok..." And I am. Ok, that is, not pregnant. Nor was I pregnant in the physical sense of the word. But... I was expecting a child. And that child will no longer come home to me.
Maria, my beautiful Maria. I ache that I will never hold her in my arms, giving her all the love she's never had. It has taken me a while to be able to actually write this post and admit to the decision we have made. We made the choice to allow another family to adopt a child who is, in my heart, my own.
Maria has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome or FAS. The symptoms of which include facial features (But she's beautiful!), her mother's excessive alcohol abuse (maybe not while she was pregnant?!), and her extremely small size (but maybe... she's malnourished?). I've been over the arguments with myself over and over and over. And what it comes down to is this: I trust the doctor's opinion on a medical file similar to ones she sees every single day. Maria has FAS.
So...... ok. What does that mean for my family? Is this a diagnosis I can handle? Possible consequences from the disorder include: Aggression (Well, Robby's tough, right?), Impulse control issues (I have those! And so does Robby! We could handle that right?), Developmental delays (I've worked with those-and I'm a social worker!), Lack of ability to live on her own (well.... she can live with us until she's 25... that's ok...), and unfortunately, eventual trouble with the law (But maybe not if I love her enough and raise her right!!!... No?)
In fact, we'd decided that we could handle all of this and more, but then I talked with adoptive mothers who actually live this every day. And unanimously, they all agreed: I would be failing my other children if I went ahead with this adoption. Children with FAS require round the clock, one on one attention. There is nothing left over for two toddlers that need care as well. Robby and Ella would have so little of me that I would be doing them a huge disservice and trading their needs for Maria's. And that's not fair to any of them.
But God! It breaks my heart to turn her down! This is also my child that I'm saying no to! I can tell you that deciding to adopt her was the same for me as finding out I was pregnant with Robby and Ella. And while I didn't miscarry, in some small way, for me, it's almost worse. Because I had to chose to leave her floundering in an orphanage with too little care and not enough food to go around. And yeah, I can tell myself that there's a list of other parents who want her!, but I still said no to my child. I put the needs of Robby and Ella above Maria's.
And now, I am dealing with the reality of that. This plan, that I have cultivated and perfected and strived for these past 5 years is gone. And yes, adaptability is one of my strengths. But this, Ladies and Gentlemen, is kicking my butt! For 5 years, I have been thinking (obsessing?) about how and when and where, learning every damn thing I could about adoption and birth order and family size. Planning, dreaming, scheming almost. 2 years apart for each child, each of my babies. Maybe their ages wouldn't align that way, but when they came to us would.
And I now have to face the reality that my family is not at the right place for that. And I know all of you are thinking, somewhere deep in your head, "But that doesn't mean you can't adopt at all. Someday it will happen, Jess. Plans change." And some of you, secretly or not so secretly, are glad that we made this decision. That we've turned our backs on our daughter. Because you know and love Robby and Ella and only want the best for them. But that is denying that this child will also be MY CHILD! That I want the best for ALL of my babies. Of course I care about how all of this would effect Robby and Ella. Does anyone really think they care about my children more than I do?
I understand, so very well, the concerns that arise in the situation-it's scary! But hearing that someone is glad of our decision, to me, is hearing that someone is glad that I have lost my child!
Wow. So now I've gone way off topic and ranted (albeit briefly), spewing this bitter hurt that's been building from comments of very well meaning and loving people who care about me. What I really want to talk about is this: I don't know who I am because of this decision.
If I don't have the balls to face whatever an adoption might bring, who the hell am I to advocate for other people doing so? This is how I define myself-I want to find homes for orphans everywhere and improve their conditions to the best of my abilities.
But I'm such a hypocrite! How can I sit there and spout off all my knowledge on attachment and correctable delays and healing a child when I don't practice it myself?! And don't tell me that I can still do it! DUH! But I still made the decision that a child wasn't good enough for my family! WHAT?! Truthfully, I understand that we are not enough for her right now. But tell that to my heart. Tell that to the huge guilt laying on my heart, slaying me for doing this to myself and, does she but know it, to Maria.
Deep breath..................
I'm struggling right now to redefine myself, my family, and my life. Who I am and who I want to be. I'm so close to finishing school, and I have to make some big decisions very soon about my career path (again). So here it is. Please. Pray for me. I screwed up and I am paying for that decision, and I just need to re-prioritize for a while now.
For now, we're planning to do an international adoption when Ella is 5 or so, maybe older. We're going to foster starting about this summer and possibly get pregnant again, who knows. But, I'm reassessing, and it hurts. So please, be kind in your words. I've had a miscarriage of the mind.
Maria, my beautiful Maria. I ache that I will never hold her in my arms, giving her all the love she's never had. It has taken me a while to be able to actually write this post and admit to the decision we have made. We made the choice to allow another family to adopt a child who is, in my heart, my own.
Maria has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome or FAS. The symptoms of which include facial features (But she's beautiful!), her mother's excessive alcohol abuse (maybe not while she was pregnant?!), and her extremely small size (but maybe... she's malnourished?). I've been over the arguments with myself over and over and over. And what it comes down to is this: I trust the doctor's opinion on a medical file similar to ones she sees every single day. Maria has FAS.
So...... ok. What does that mean for my family? Is this a diagnosis I can handle? Possible consequences from the disorder include: Aggression (Well, Robby's tough, right?), Impulse control issues (I have those! And so does Robby! We could handle that right?), Developmental delays (I've worked with those-and I'm a social worker!), Lack of ability to live on her own (well.... she can live with us until she's 25... that's ok...), and unfortunately, eventual trouble with the law (But maybe not if I love her enough and raise her right!!!... No?)
In fact, we'd decided that we could handle all of this and more, but then I talked with adoptive mothers who actually live this every day. And unanimously, they all agreed: I would be failing my other children if I went ahead with this adoption. Children with FAS require round the clock, one on one attention. There is nothing left over for two toddlers that need care as well. Robby and Ella would have so little of me that I would be doing them a huge disservice and trading their needs for Maria's. And that's not fair to any of them.
But God! It breaks my heart to turn her down! This is also my child that I'm saying no to! I can tell you that deciding to adopt her was the same for me as finding out I was pregnant with Robby and Ella. And while I didn't miscarry, in some small way, for me, it's almost worse. Because I had to chose to leave her floundering in an orphanage with too little care and not enough food to go around. And yeah, I can tell myself that there's a list of other parents who want her!, but I still said no to my child. I put the needs of Robby and Ella above Maria's.
And now, I am dealing with the reality of that. This plan, that I have cultivated and perfected and strived for these past 5 years is gone. And yes, adaptability is one of my strengths. But this, Ladies and Gentlemen, is kicking my butt! For 5 years, I have been thinking (obsessing?) about how and when and where, learning every damn thing I could about adoption and birth order and family size. Planning, dreaming, scheming almost. 2 years apart for each child, each of my babies. Maybe their ages wouldn't align that way, but when they came to us would.
And I now have to face the reality that my family is not at the right place for that. And I know all of you are thinking, somewhere deep in your head, "But that doesn't mean you can't adopt at all. Someday it will happen, Jess. Plans change." And some of you, secretly or not so secretly, are glad that we made this decision. That we've turned our backs on our daughter. Because you know and love Robby and Ella and only want the best for them. But that is denying that this child will also be MY CHILD! That I want the best for ALL of my babies. Of course I care about how all of this would effect Robby and Ella. Does anyone really think they care about my children more than I do?
I understand, so very well, the concerns that arise in the situation-it's scary! But hearing that someone is glad of our decision, to me, is hearing that someone is glad that I have lost my child!
Wow. So now I've gone way off topic and ranted (albeit briefly), spewing this bitter hurt that's been building from comments of very well meaning and loving people who care about me. What I really want to talk about is this: I don't know who I am because of this decision.
If I don't have the balls to face whatever an adoption might bring, who the hell am I to advocate for other people doing so? This is how I define myself-I want to find homes for orphans everywhere and improve their conditions to the best of my abilities.
But I'm such a hypocrite! How can I sit there and spout off all my knowledge on attachment and correctable delays and healing a child when I don't practice it myself?! And don't tell me that I can still do it! DUH! But I still made the decision that a child wasn't good enough for my family! WHAT?! Truthfully, I understand that we are not enough for her right now. But tell that to my heart. Tell that to the huge guilt laying on my heart, slaying me for doing this to myself and, does she but know it, to Maria.
Deep breath..................
I'm struggling right now to redefine myself, my family, and my life. Who I am and who I want to be. I'm so close to finishing school, and I have to make some big decisions very soon about my career path (again). So here it is. Please. Pray for me. I screwed up and I am paying for that decision, and I just need to re-prioritize for a while now.
For now, we're planning to do an international adoption when Ella is 5 or so, maybe older. We're going to foster starting about this summer and possibly get pregnant again, who knows. But, I'm reassessing, and it hurts. So please, be kind in your words. I've had a miscarriage of the mind.
1 comment:
Jess, my heart is aching for you right now. I am so so sorry that you had to make this tough and heart-wrenching decision.
And while I don't want to do the whole, "I know how you feel" spiel because I don't, I do understand what you mean by a miscarriage of the mind. When I first conceived after we'd started the adoption process, I went through a mourning period for the adoption that we decided to postpone. And then when I lost my conceived child, I felt as if I had lost two babies. And that is without even getting to see a picture of a little one that you obviously grew to love and care for. So I can empathize with the agony and loss you are experiencing. To me, that is a testimony of the heart that God has given you for children.
You guys are all so special to me and I will be praying for you. Praying for your loss, praying for guidance for the next steps. Thank you for sharing this and for being honest and vulnerable with us.
I'll give you a big hug in about 12 days!
Post a Comment