Maybe you heard? It's National Adoption Month!

If you actually read my Facebook posts, you may already be aware that November is National Adoption Month; I might have mentioned it once or twice...:-) Adoption seems to be becoming my passion, especially transracial adoption, but I really never intended it to be. Many who have adopted have this clear picture of being called. Not us, we have this sporadic chain of events that ended in our youngest son--I suppose that alone is proof that God was carrying us all along.

I actually don't ever remember Jason and I discussing adoption. After we seemed to no longer be able to biologically have more children, adoption just seemed obvious. In early 2009 we met with Catholic Charities in Seattle to pursue international adoption. I remember walking away from the meeting and just feeling overwhelmed. I remember being on the playground right after that and telling a neighbor about it. I think it was the first time I had mentioned the thought of adoption to any one. My neighbors response was basically, "God bless you; I could never do that!" I remember wondering, "Why?"

Shortly after that meeting Jason left for Iraq on deployment #3, and well, adoption was just pushed aside for a year. One day at Fort Lewis, a friend of mine casually suggested we try adoption from foster care, where they adopted their children. This profoundly struck me because 1.) I didn't know her children were adopted, and 2.) I was amazed in all the years of thinking about adoption that I had NEVER considered the U.S. Foster Care System. Next thing I know, we have PCSed to MacDill AFB in Tampa, and we are sitting in an informational meeting on adopting from Foster Care in Florida, which basically began a three-month weed-out process for families, who were deemed good candidates to adopt and begin a home study.

Once we were through all the qualifications, background checks and home study, I began some serious soul-searching. I have always been intrigued by nature vs. nurture. My siblings and I weren't exactly raised in ideal parenting conditions, and yet, for the most part we demonstrated the ability to intelligently thrive. Because of my background, I always tended to side on nature being a stronger determinant of success. This belief immensely scared me when it came to adoption.

I am fairly open about Brendan's history, but at the same time, it is my responsibility to protect him. Bren himself was not a "crack baby", but his birth mother did chose drugs over him. I have never judged her--many folks lose battles to addictions every day. She did her best to protect him during pregnancy, but after he was born, she lost her strength, and her sister called Social Services. She nor his father were selfish--they did not fight to keep him when they knew they could not best provide.

As we were in the match process, I knew that drugs were prevalent in the causes for termination of parental rights in the U.S. Foster Care System, and I searched for studies on the long-term effects of prenatal exposure. At the time, nothing was available--drug-exposed babies was a fairly "new" topic. This summer a team from the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia concluded a 25-year study: "The years of tracking kids have led Hallam Hurt, chair of neonatology at Albert Einstein Medical Center, to a conclusion she didn't see coming. 'Poverty is a more powerful influence on the outcome of inner-city children than gestational exposure to cocaine,' Hurt said at her May lecture."



True Blessings

Nurture. It seems that nurture ACTUALLY is the greater factor. We know little about Bren's birth parents: names, birthdates, prenatal/medical history. Enough for peace of mind. I know they are both super tall, which is why not a day goes by that a person, a.k.a. "Master of the Obvious", doesn't say, "you sure are tall for your age!" I imagine there was some significant intelligence that sadly, never had the right opportunity or situation. Brendan is super smart--he has no problem intellectually hanging with Aidan and Cole Patrick. He is read to and talk to and loved. He embraces knowledge. He is curious and inquisitive always testing rhymes and letter sounds. He remembers every detail--if I change anything in the house, guaranteed, he will be the first to notice. He is bright.

I suspect he is just a sample of the amazing potential trapped in the myths of foster care. Recently someone was asking me about our experience and she wondered out loud, "What if families like yours really are the key to finally solving the race issues in our country?" I had never really thought about it, but she may be onto something. We never planned to adopt a black son--I remember in our home study when we were ask, "Race?" And we were like, "Uh, human..." It had never occurred to me that people wanting to adopt actually cared about the color of the child's skin. Perhaps I am naïve, but I was shocked to learn that in actuality, most do have strong feeling on the topic.

Our path to Bren was not thought out; I can't even clearly verbalize it (as I may have just demonstrated). Much of it is a blur--and much of the time, I was fighting God's path for me. I am blessed that He had faith in me, and I pray, especially this month, that others will be inspired and blessed by this amazingly difficult and absolutely wonderful journey. :-) In order to thrive, children need safe, loving families--it really is that simple.