Wow! What an incredible opportunity to connect with this community of fellow adoptive mamas and daddies, and those who are “potentials.” I’m honored and humbled to have been asked to contribute to a platform where so many others have given incredible advice, tips and encouragement.
I guess an introduction is in order, huh? My name is Charity, mom of two, one through birth in my womb, and the other through birth in my heart. That’s right, I’m a bio and adoptive mama to two very precious and very lively little girls. We live in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains, close to Asheville, NC. We have lived here all of our lives. Ironically, my husband pastors a little country church in the heart of East Tennessee (yes, we drive 1.5 hrs to church on multiple times a week). We homestead—as novices who have no clue what we are doing— homeschool, run a small business (or three), craft, hike, and watercolor paint when there is free time.
Growing up my dream was always to become an actress. I loved the humorous aspects of the theatre and had the quirky acting personality of Amanda Bynes. The left-sided brain that I am, however, drew me towards a more practical career choice, and I ultimately decided to attend University to become a psychologist and make a great career for myself.
One day in my senior year of high school, however, I found myself reading the book Charla’s Children by Charla Pereau. It was an outdated and simple book that my aunt had gifted me about the life of a missionary who worked in an orphanage in Mexico and had adopted many of the children. Despite the insignificant appearance of this book, it changed my world. I knew, after reading that book, that I wanted to adopt children and somehow be involved with kids without families. Initially, I envisioned working in an orphanage just like Charla, though I wasn’t sure yet how I would get there.
Home. Family. Belonging. Love.
These are words that have often had both simple and confusing definitions for me.
We are taught about love throughout our lives and these lessons begin before we are born. We learn what love is through the demonstration of it in our lives. We learn too through any spaces or places that lack it. Our sensitive and wondrous bodies and brains remember this. We are established with a foundation and framework for how we see the world based on what the world shows us.
On this episode of The Greater Than Podcast, I speak with Adrian Collins. Adrian writes about the complexities of being a birth mother, biological mother, and adoptive mother—and she puts her experiences to work for children. She’s testified before the Colorado Senate Committee on behalf of the Colorado Children First Act. She’s also the Adoption and Pregnancy blog editor for Hope’s Promise, and is working on her first memoir. Adrian’s journey is one of love, faith, and everlasting hope.
Whether you’re connected to adoption or foster care, or not, what Adrian shares here about that “pedestal of perfection” can resonate with us all.
When I was younger, I dreamed of marrying my true love in a beautiful church with stained glass windows. I dreamed that I’d live in a white painted cottage-style home with a cherry-red door, and a giant tree swing would hang in the front yard where I’d push my two boys in denim overalls and two girls in matching dresses. My baby names were picked out. My maternity clothes were selected. Adoption, however, was never part of the plan.
Sometimes our most thought-out plans can be tailored to something greater than we ever anticipated. Over the years, I’ve learned to embrace adoption as a beautiful part of my life:
I am a birth mom of one college-age daughter.
I am a biological mom of three teen boys.
I am an adoptive mom of one adventurous ten-year-old son.
Adoption is hard. It’s so very hard. And, it’s beautiful. Adoption is heartbreakingly beautiful.
I understand the complexities of adoption.
I’ve lived them.
I live them.
Adoption never leaves you. For the adoptee, it’s a journey that spans a lifetime. Being adopted is an experience we didn’t ask for, or even cause. There are real and raw moments when it seems that the pain and confusion of adoption cannot be overcome. Asking why, often times, seems pointless when answers are hard to find. Adoption can seem unfair. Unjust. Adoption can hurt. You may wonder if you’ll ever move beyond the disempowering feelings.
CPS stood on my doorstep at 11:00 pm, with a sleepy one year old boy. We have been anticipating his arrival since we got the call, early this afternoon.
He’s had a rough day. A day not many of us can even fathom. Since we received confirmation he was coming, I have been eager to comfort him.
I look at him and I know, “This is going to wreck me.”
I scoop him from the social worker. Holding his innocence in my arms—losing a bit of my own. Committing to carrying the weight of his world, the good and the bad. Preparing to hear his story. Ready to give him all we have…
I watched, this morning, the comments of Tom Brokaw on yesterday’s NBC broadcast, Meet the Press. Quite frankly, I am sickened. Let me preface my thoughts by saying that I try hard not to delve deeply into politics. The state of our government, currently, is not one I care to argue with people about. I have my beliefs, I know my values. I will always do and vote in alignment with what is core and foundational within me. I can’t change anyone else.
Mr. Brokaw’s comments, however, felt like a direct punch to the gut. As I get up off of the floor and catch my breath, I know that I cannot go silently through the day. There’s too much at stake here. And, I wonder why Mr. Brokaw and so many other Americans fear families like mine. In their closed off social corners, I wonder why families like mine offend them so.
This week has been a week of powerful connections. I’ve connected with incredible people doing the work of adoption awareness in Colorado, Australia, New Zealand, and beyond.
I’ve linked with adoptees who are brave and courageous, taking on the journey of finding themselves. Facing the fear of rejection and disappointment. Walking through that fear.
It’s a long and difficult walk. Adoptees have, for far too long, been told what to think, feel, and believe. We’ve been silenced, judged, and misunderstood. Adoptees are a population of people who have had basic rights taken from them: the right to freedom of information, the right to dignity of identity, and the right to know their full story—their history.
I was a small girl when my mother told me I was adopted. Though I was too young to remember her exact words, I will never forget my feelings. I felt sorry for my friends who weren’t adopted. My mother had just told me what, by the age of seven, I had already felt; that my parents loved me unconditionally and that they had ached with longing for a child.
When I grew old enough to understand my birthmother’s role, I realized that I had been doubly blessed. A girl who couldn’t raise me had loved me enough to give me to someone who could. This selfless person knew that motherhood is more than playing house and that her ultimate responsibility was ensuring the best for the baby she had brought into the world.