It finally happened. The conversation I've been having with my oldest son in my head for months and months finally became reality yesterday. We had the big adoption talk.
Some of you are likely wondering what took me so long. Didn't he already know he's adopted? Well, sort of... Every time we looked at pictures of the kids as babies, I'd point out the ones of the weekend we met the boys, and mention how they used to live with Dawn and Jerod and Nolan until they came to live with us. And how I'm so glad God chose us to be a family. Every time we read a picture book like "Julius, Baby of the World" by Kevin Henkes, I'd pause after the first page and wait for a question such as, "Did I grow in your tummy, Mommy?" But the follow-up questions never came. So, I kept opening the door and waiting, figuring it was probably best for my somewhat-anxious eldest to allow him to set the pace of disclosure in this particular matter. (I also have a theory - one of many! - that the kids should have a secure sense of belonging in our family before we put too much emphasis on the fact that they haven't always been with us. I know this doesn't work for all kids and all situations, it just seemed the best path for us at the time.)
I was, however, beginning to feel a tad impatient. He's starting kindergarten in the fall, after all, and I thought it might be a good idea if he was able to articulate the fact that he's adopted with some level of comfort! So, when the kids wanted to look at their baby pictures again yesterday, I gladly huddled around the laptop with them (I've almost given up on scrapbooking) and started scrolling through the pics. We giggled at the fact that they all used to wear diapers, and they shook their heads at how babies are born without teeth, and we oohed and aahed over their unbelievable cuteness. Then I deliberately brought up the pictures of our first weekend with the boys and mentioned that they used to live elsewhere. This time, Kolbie took the bait. "Why, Mommy?" he asked. With a little bit of trepidation and a fair bit of relief, I embarked on the "tummy mommy" talk. He took in the fact that he grew in someone else's tummy (we chuckled at the rhyme) and I again pointed out how glad I am that God chose me to be his mommy for always, his "growing up" mommy. He quickly got stuck on the "But why?" loop so I asked if it made him feel a little funny to think that he hadn't always lived with us. He said it did, so I was quick to reassure him that I could understand why he'd feel funny, and we moved on.
From the beginning of this journey, I've been aware that adoption is not all joy and gain. It begins with and will always contain a great deal of grief and loss. From the grief of infertility, to the incredible loss and trauma our kids' birth mother has suffered, to the fact that the kids will all have their own grief and loss to work through - it's a bumpy emotional landscape. To say the least. Despite the rough road, there's nowhere else I'd rather be. I am inexpressibly grateful to have the privilege of being "Mommy" to these kids. I am humbled by the responsibility of helping them navigate through life. I'm glad I had a "heads-up" about the grief and loss aspect of adoption so that I can manage those tricky conversations with some degree of insight and sensitivity. I never want to lose sight of the fact that what was a joyous day for us marked a day of traumatic loss for our children. I want them to know that my heart aches for them. That anytime they find themselves feeling sad about the adoption facts of life, I'll be right there with them. Hurting and weeping and asking God why there is so much brokenness in our world. Then, together, we'll allow His unfailing love and mercy to wash over us once again.
For now, I'll look forward to the next opportunity I have to help the kids make sense of their start in life. About an hour after our chat yesterday, I asked Kolbie if he had any questions or wanted to talk more about it. He said, emphatically, "I do NOT." And that's just fine. I'll keep opening the door, ready to go wherever I need to go with them, as many times as I need to go there, to help them heal.
