Waiting is defined as "remaining ready". In adoption, many of us are READY to be parents before the ink is dry on our application. However we come to adoption, it's usually based on loss, and our emotional readiness is often there long before we're trained and approved to parent through adoption. So we're already WAITING from the day we get started. And all of us know - or at least come to know, that waiting in adoption is a whole other kind of "remaining ready".
Regular waiting is manageable, because there's a defined end or resolution in sight. My son can't wait to be 5, but he's comforted knowing his birthday will be coming in a number of months, sometime after summer vacation, and shortly after Halloween.
But waiting in the adoption journey is difficult at best. Unless you've waded through your own wait, it's hard to imagine the mix of emotions that waiting parents experience at this stage of the journey.
With a drop in all types of adoption, the waits are becoming longer. The usual advice "build your village", or "read, research, and network" help some, but when the wait seems like forever, it helps to talk to someone else who's also treading water in the waiting pool.
So if you're waiting, patiently or otherwise, I'd invite you dive in to our new Vancouver Waiting Parents Group.
Our next meeting is:
Thursday, May 24th from 7pm-9pm
Trees Coffee, Yaletown
RSVP to our lovely facilitator Sandra at vancouverwaitingparents@yahoo.ca or email me at sreid@bcadoption.com to let us know if you can make it!
Every few months, I'm invited to participate in a panel at the Vancouver Adoption Education Program. The AEP course is for prospective adoptive parents. This particular class is for applicants applying through the MCFD (Ministry of Children and Family Development).
These past few visits, I've brought along my 13 year old sister and 4 year old son, who were both adopted through MCFD.
On the drive in, we had one of our little chats about adoption. I reminded Noah what adoption is, and that he and Georgia, and many of his aunties and uncles, and even Grandpa were adopted.
Noah understands pieces of his adoption, but he's young enough that abstract terms like "adoption" and "birth" vs "adoptive" vs "foster" mother are difficult to fully grasp.
Then I told Noah that today was special because we would be "talking to all the mommies and daddies that are waiting to adopt a kid".
"Well, what are they waiting for?" Noah asked. I explained about how important it was for the mommies and daddies to be ready before they adopted a child. He looked up at me suspiciously.
"Oh." Noah said. Then he was quiet for a while. "So, which one is going to adopt me this time? I hope I get a nice new Momma or Daddy."
He played serenely in the back seat of the car while I struggled to quickly and clearly convey that adoption was not going to be a recurring event in his life. "Sorry, Noah. Mommy and Daddy adopted you first. You're stuck with us."
He threw his eyes skyward, feigning defeat. "Well that's just great Mommy!" He exclaimed sarcastically. I didn't even know a four year old could be sarcastic. But he was.
I think he's relieved, though, not to be moving on from our home. I just hope he can muster similar sarcastic enthusiasm during his teen years.
I love you, Noah. Thanks for joining us last weekend, and filling all those prospective parents hearts with joy.
For many, adoption is a difficult journey. Dreams of cradling an infant, or chasing a toddler, or running with (or maybe away from?) a teenager are often difficult to realize.
The path from deciding "I want to adopt" to bringing home a child is well-travelled, but not an easy road. Many times there are roadblocks, unexpected detours, utter derailments. Traffic jams are common. Tried patience is, too.
But in the end, every family that makes the transition from "prospective" to "approved and waiting" to "adoptive parent" insists the journey was worth every bump in the road. In the end, the moment when your child is not just in your arms, but officially YOURS, couldn't be sweeter.
Today was one of those days, when sharing a family's joy gave me a glimpse back into that happy moment. That pocket of time when all the sweat, tears, frustration, and anticipation came together.
Today's news arrived via a quick note from a new parent. Thrilled to share that his daughter's adoption was "for sure". One month had passed since her birth parents made that unimaginably difficult decision to entrust their little girl to another set of parents.
So I sat at my desk and cried like an idiot. And I knew that any colleague that popped their head in would understand my tears because, they, too, were adoptive parents. Or birth mothers, or adoptees. They understood the gravity and the unspeakable joy brought by the reassurance that an adoption was going to go through. A child had found their parents. Two were now three. A family.
Welcome home, little girl.
Our family recently adopted a kitten. Bella is spunky, snuggly, and at times, appropriately naughty. She's a good match for our son!
When we went to pick her up, we had to choose between her and several other cats. We wanted a short to medium-haired kitten with a snuggly, laid-back personality. Our mission was to adopt just ONE animal.
I advocate for sibling adoption on a daily basis in the HUMAN world, so I felt entitled to ignore that practice when it came to feline family members.
Unfortunately, I stand corrected - because my four year old watches. And listens. And remembers EVERYTHING.
Last week, Noah was asking about Bella and what she did all day long while we were at work and school. "Well, she plays. And sleeps. And eats her food and drinks water."
Noah looked horrified. "But who does she PLAY WITH?" he demanded. What an excellent question, I thought. "Well, she plays with her toys and she plays by herself."
His mind flashed back to the day we adopted the kitten. "Bella has a BROTHER Mommy. We should have brought HIM home, too! He was black and white and didn't like cuddles, but he liked you! They could have played TOGETHER!"
My child, who often refuses to follow the simplest request, had a photographic memory of our cat's litter mate and every aspect of its personality. I started to feel guilty about splitting up the "sibling set". He was right... how could we split them up?
That's when my pre-schooler looked me in the eye and said "Haven't you learned ANYTHING from me and J, Mommy?" (he demanded, referring to his older brother who lives with his adoptive family.) I had to think about that for a while.... he recognized the injustice of growing up apart from his brother. Noah knows most brothers and sisters live together - animals included.
Noah is righteously indignant that we consciously decided NOT to adopt our kitten's brother. Now I feel like a failure as a cat 'parent'! I suppose it's because deep down I'm really a dog person.... and I'm sorry, Noah, if having just one kitten is hard on you.
Thank you for teaching me, son, and yet again putting life into perspective!
