At one time or other, all adoptive parents wonder (sometimes only to themselves) whether the love they feel for the child they’ve adopted is the same kind of love other parents feel for their (biological) children. According to Judy … it is! I was delighted that she was willing to share her first impressions of her international adoption experience with us. Thanks, Judy!
I am one of those – one of the thousands, perhaps tens or hundred of thousands of parents, who feel that their child was destined to be with them.
In the deepest recesses of my being I am convinced that my children chose us. It may not mean much to anyone other than my husband Mark, my kids, and me. And that’s fine, but, here’s the thing, three of my four are adopted. Their stories of how they came to be our children often leave people scratching their heads in wonderment.
My family is highly visible, encompassing three races, three countries, and three cultures. We have seen that how we are a family inspires others to consider adoption as a means of becoming a parent or adding to theirs.
Mark and I hit the secondary infertility roadblock after having our first child. The fertility treadmill was emotionally taxing, financially draining, and affected our relationship. Intimacy became duty. My body, mind and sprit were tired and sore. We conceived once more and lost the baby. I was done. All I wanted was another child. It was that simple – and that difficult. Fortunately, Mark felt the same. Through grief we came to terms with our loss and realized that dream of having more children was going to happen. Through adoption.
For whatever reason, I felt drawn to China. The sensation was overwhelming. In the process of narrowing agencies down from an original list of seventy (this is not a typo), I tried to consider adopting from another country, but for whatever reason it didn’t feel right. Mark and I went with my gut feeling and in doing so were able to reduce the list of agencies to three. But, we were still on the fence; none of the three stood out for us.
Funny things happen. I was going through the mail during a drive up to Chicago; in it was a packet from an agency I had contacted via email earlier in the week. Upon opening and reading through the packet of information, I began to cry. This was our agency. I knew it. I read the entire packet to him as he drove and we called the agency from the car to get the process rolling.
Eleven months later we were in China, and as the elevator doors to the seventh floor opened, I set eyes on my beautiful daughter for the first time. I was engulfed in raw love for my daughter. It was akin to what I had experienced as I gave birth to Holden.
Josi was handed to me. I held her close, taking in her scent, tasting her as I kissed her, and whispered into her ear, “Hello, Love. I’m your mommy. I have been waiting for you. I will keep you safe and love you forever.”