The moment you become a parent may perhaps be THE greatest marker of before and after. Until that title is yours, you have no concept of the depth and breadth of emotion, what layers of yourself will be revealed, or just how much self-sacrifice will be required.
Many paths lead to motherhood, and in this episode, we explore one of them: adoption. It’s not uncommon for well-meaning people, attempting to offer comfort, to counsel those who’ve experienced infertility. “Just adopt!” they say, brightly, like it’s as easy as an Insta-cart selection. Better, even, than having a biological child since you get to check certain boxes ahead of time–boy or girl? age? race? language?–and often even comb through pictures of sweet faces waiting for forever homes.
About 1/3 of American families have supposedly considered adoption in some form, but only 2% of those actually sign the papers, stand before a judge, and lay claim to a son or daughter (from US Adoption Network). Perhaps these numbers imply adoption may not be “the same as” having a biological child. Perhaps there’s much more to it.
We invited two special guests to chat with us about their personal adoption experiences and shed some light on the subject. Abby Rosser and Kristin Hunzicker each have four children, and each of them adopted a son. Their boys don’t look like them. They are white moms, one whose son hails from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and the other whose son came to the family through the U.S. foster care system.
Abby and her husband, Brent, a pediatrician, had three school-aged biological children (twin girls and a son) when they felt a call (an unscratchable itch, she calls it) to do more. They both had a love for serving children. It took a good while before they were both on the same page, but once they were, they plunged full steam ahead through mounds of paperwork, home studies, and fund raising for a child from the DRC, where futures for children in orphanages were bleak.
The rest of the family was on board. It was, and always would be, a team effort for the whole family. All the kids weighed in on the decision.
Matched with their son, Ezra, when he was still a toddler, the Rossers waited almost four years before the Congolese government agreed to finally release hundreds of children to the parents who’d provided for them, prayed for them, and, in many cases, visited them overseas. During that period, Abby says, they were kept somewhat informed about his health and development and knew that he’d been ill, broken bones, and, with each day they waited, grew through critical developmental stages that would affect their son’s language acquisition and other skills. It was a brutal and agonizing wait, with constant second-guessing and what-ifs. Ezra just turned 10 and has been home with their family for five years.
Kristin’s adoption path is different. She and her husband, David, a minister, had taken foster care classes early in their marriage, drawn to meet the deep needs around them. She was expecting their first child when they got a call to care for an 8-month-old boy. They agreed, and their journey with their son, Braxton, began.
Over the next two years, with open visits with their son’s birth family, Kristin’s heart knit more and more to the boy she cared for daily, and as she rocked him to sleep, she was finding it harder and harder not to think of him as her own. She and her husband had always wanted a family that didn’t all look alike, one that was diverse and that reflected the world around them. At a certain point, the opportunity arose for the Hunzickers to formally adopt and make official what they’d long felt in their hearts. Braxton is their first and oldest child, about six months older than their next son. Down the road, they added two more children (biological daughters).
Unlike Abby, whose children were all older when they adopted, the Hunzicker kids have grown up together from the start and haven’t known a time without their oldest brother.
Adoption comes with a cost. Of course, there’s the bottom line of finances. In many cases, especially with international adoption, it can be upwards of $12,000 in agency fees and inter-governmental payments, and often more once you factor in the time spent waiting and providing for your matched child from afar. While some (rare) insurance policies cover adoption, most do not, and families dip into savings or try to raise funds for travel and expenses through faith communities or other organizations.
With all the beautiful Christmas card-worthy moments, most adoptive families say it’s a tough road and one you shouldn’t enter lightly. Even in the case of infant adoptions, a psychic trauma associated with separation can commonly surface later in life (usually puberty). With older children, depending on the circumstances they’re coming from, certainly other types of trauma are not unusual. All of this takes knowledge, training, counseling, and patience. Abby and Kristin both used the time while they waited to dive in and read all they could about the issues they would likely face.
But knowing something in your head doesn’t always translate to what your heart feels. Some things still sting. All mothers have to learn not to take things personally and to set our own hurt feelings aside to deal with behaviors that stem from some hurt of our child’s. Parents of adopted children often have to do this on a daily basis, sometimes for years. It requires a patient, steady reiteration of “I’m here, I love you, you’re okay,” in the face of lashing out or outright rejection from the child you longed for with all your heart. It helps to ask the question “what’s the need behind the behavior?”
Both these moms recommended talking to others who have walked the adoption road. Abby says she has several other DRC parents on speed dial to compare notes, and Kristin often talks with parents connected to the foster system. Like all of motherhood, it’s a lot easier if you’re not trying to figure it all out on your own. Sharing resources, laughter, and tears is a huge help. [Some of their recommended resources are listed at the bottom of this blog post.]
Adoption comes with lots of questions, and both Kristin and Abby say all of their children have asked some hard ones. Since their boys are a different race, they often field awkward questions from others and have frank conversations with one another about race, differences, and how to treat others.
Our favorite book says we’re all adopted, we all have wounds, and we all want to belong permanently. (Eph. 1). Families with adopted children get to see that front and center, and it’s a beautiful lesson.
Helpful Resources:
Beyond Consequences, Logic, and Control
Tell Me Again About the Night I Was Born