As I posted on Facebook, our daughter turned 3 yesterday. I cannot believe it's been THREE years since we brought her home. Where has the time gone? I'm sure that every parents wonders that. One minute you're buried in burp cloths and diapers, and the next minute your kid wants nothing to do with you or exclaims at every turn, "I can do it MYSELF." It's refreshing and frightening all at the same time.
Before our son came along in May 2009, we had another adoption lined up in Tennessee in September 2008. At the very very last minute, the birthmother changed her mind, and Shannon and I were left to pick up those emotional pieces. Because we had told EVERYONE we know that we were going to bring home a baby, it was an unbelievable task to then go and have to "untell" everyone. This is when I started on FB because I could announce it to people that way without having to say it over and over and over again.
Obviously, from that time forward, we became VERY leery about any potential adoption that our agency called us. Even though a situation would seem mostly solid, we just couldn't let ourselves fall for it again.
When we met our son's birthmother in March 2009, we felt really good about the situation, but we decided not to tell anyone other than our immediate family and a few close friends. We needed people on deck to help with baby gear and other housekeeping things. Even though that situation was incredibly solid, one just never knows how a birthmother is going to feel after giving birth. Human beings are special creatures, and nothing is ever 100% certain.
In December 2011, the same day I finished teaching my fall semester, I got a call from our agency. Our social worker, *Barb, told me that the agency had had a request to see our profile, and that the couple wanted us to parent their child. Barb added that it was a unique situation because the birthparents were older than me and Shannon (at the time I was 37 and Shannon was 41) and that they were (and are) still a couple. Barb added that the birthparents needed to put an adoption plan together, and that they wanted us. She continued to add how tentative she and her colleagues were. No adoption situation is ever certain, and this one was even less certain the least certain they had ever seen. Not a ringing endorsement, but Shannon and I both appreciated her incredible honesty. The birthparents did not want to meet us or know anything about us, which was (and is) a stark departure from the situation with our son's birthmother. We adjusted to this idea and moved forward with our discussion.
Shannon and I talked and decided that the biggest mistake would be not even entertaining the idea of this baby and this situation. We were busy with our son who was 2 1/2 at the time; we were busy with our jobs; we were busy with our friends and family. We had been through situations similar to this a few times before, and we were certain that we could handle it. As with our son, we told only close friends and family ALWAYS with the caveat: "They're older than we are. They are still together. Barb is really not sure that this is going to go through." Everyone understood.
I started to panic at the idea of 2 kids. I don't like mess. I don't like chaos, and I could only imagine what life would be like: me, Shannon, a 2 1/2 year old, a newborn, a dog, and a job. Chaos just seemed like the inevitable outcome. I kept thinking, though, about the joy we had when our son came home. I remembered how much I love my older brothers and how much fun we had as kids and still have now as adults. Shannon's mother died in 2010. He was his mother's only child. One of the hardest things for him to deal with was her death, to not have anyone to share that experience with. When he told me that fact, I understood the importance of having a sibling. When my dad died in 1996, my brothers and I spent a lot of time together remembering him and sharing stories. Together, we were able to help my mom. None of us was alone. It was such a comfort, which I hadn't ever realized until Shannon experienced otherwise.
So, onward we went with Baby #2. From December to mid-February, we acted as if nothing was going on. Friends dropped off baby girl clothes, but I kept them in boxes in the closet. We slowly gathered up old baby gear and got it ready, but kept everything out of sight. I ran a marathon on February 12, 2012 in Jacksonville Beach, Florida. Before we left, I emailed Barb and told her, "If anything with the baby happens, please call Shannon. I'm in race mode and can't deal with anything else right now."
For the entire time we were gone for the marathon, I didn't really think much about the baby. When we returned, though, it became all-consuming. I constantly wondered if birthmom was in labor, if she was going to change her mind, if her pregnancy had been a good one. On Wednesday February 15, I got a call from our social worker saying that birthmom had gone in to labor and had been sent home to wait. On Sunday morning February 19, we got a call from Barb saying that the baby had been born the night before after a 30-something hour labor which ultimately led to an emergency c-section and IV meds for the birthmom. Given her age, I was sure that she would never let this baby go. I wouldn't have. Barb said that we would be able to get to the hospital later that day to meet the baby. She said she would call us to let us know when to go.
After waiting ALL DAY, Shannon finally called our social worker at 5PM that Sunday to ask what was going on. In short, birthmom didn't want us to come to the hospital until after the hospital photographer had been there to take an official picture of the baby. In the end, we never got to the hospital on Sunday. For the rest of Sunday night, Shannon and I talked and talked and came to realize that if the birthmom decided to keep the baby, we would be OK with it. We wouldn't have a choice. We would be horribly disappointed, of course, but we would learn to realize that God had other plans for us.
On Monday February 20, I went off to work prepared to never get a call from Barb, or to get the call that said, "I'm sorry, but birthmom has changed her mind." Around 3PM that day, Barb DID call to say "Baby is ready to be picked up." I could not believe it. I hugged a coworker who happened to be in my office with me and ran out the door. I called my husband, told him to meet me at home, and then flew home to get our son.
The 3 of us drove to the hospital to meet our girl who has been the most fun and most exhausting person ever. Though I was hesitant to bring home a second child while our son was still so young, having her has been the best gift. We are truly blessed.
It was a bumpy, emotional road with her, but it all worked out. We have met her birthparents only once and have a good relationship with them and keep in touch via email. In the end, we all love our daughter and want the best for her.
Thank God for adoption. I cannot imagine my life without children.
*Names have been changed
I'm a mom, wife, and health & fitness coach. My goal is to help others transform their lives by getting fit & healthy from the inside out.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Being a mom
I'm skipping a bit of the timeline for this one post. I'll get back on track hereafter.
There was an event in my life recently--within my extended family--that made me realize how much being a mom has changed my heart and my soul. Perhaps you have felt like this, too. As soon as I became a mom, in that very moment that I first held our son in my arms, one day after his birth, everything changed. Everything! And I don't mean the stuff every parent talks about--sleep deprivation, choice of diapers and formula, the brand of crib or sheets, taking 45 minutes to get out the house. I mean that FEELING of feeling EVERY. SINGLE. THING.
A few weeks ago, my husband and I were watching a TV show. In one of the beginning scenes, a mother in despair jumped off a building with her 3 month old son in her arms. It's TV. I get it, but even as I recall the scene, I'm in tears. At the moment I saw it, I burst in to tears as if it were my own child who had been heaved to his death. I don't mean to sound morbid. My point is that I FEEL EVERY. SINGLE. THING that happens to a child.
Before children, of course I felt sadness and sorrow at wrongs done to children no matter what kind of wrong it was, no matter by whom it was perpetrated. Children are innocent creatures to be protected by everyone. Or, they should be. Once I had children, though, those feelings were ramped up to a level I cannot even begin to explain or comprehend. When one parent suffers, every parent suffers. When one child suffers, no matter the age of the child, whether a tiny baby or an adult, every parent feels it. I know this to be true.
Though this event in my extended family had little to do with me personally, it had everything to do with me as a mom. I looked at this situation that had happened--to the child of a relative--and thought, "I want to kick someone's ass." There, I said it. I told my husband that if ANYONE ever hurt my kid, well... need I say more? He hugged me and comforted me, having anticipated that this would be my reaction. Even recalling this moment makes me cry. The pain I feel for everyone--especially the parents--is almost indescribable.
When I was in 8th grade, my mom, my dad, my older brothers, and I went on a sailing trip. My parents chartered a sailboat out of Fort Meyers, FL, and we sailed and we sailed. Until we ran aground. The ocean ain't like Lake Michigan. That's for darn sure. You have to pay attention to depth. HA! Long story short, we had to get tugged off the sandbar. To do that, the other boat had to tie something (I can't recall what) around the mast of our boat and then pull. My mom and I wanted to get out the way and let my dad and brothers handle the hookup. So, we went below deck. As the other boat started to tug us, of course the boat started to heel over, and my mom and I both feared the galley would start to fill with water. We were nowhere even close to a situation like that, but in the moment, it was REALLY scary.
My mom looked at me, grabbed me, and shoved me up the stairs and above deck without any thought of herself. She only cared about me and making sure that I could get out of there in one piece. It was a classic "Mama Bear" moment. I know it sounds so silly, but I have called her Mama Bear ever since. I can still see her face, and it's been 26 years.
THAT is what I mean--that feeling of wanting nothing more than to protect your children. To move mountains, to do ANYTHING to save them, to protect them, to guard them. Sometimes I feel like I just want to put my kids in a bubble, put them and their bubble in their rooms and never let them out.
There was an event in my life recently--within my extended family--that made me realize how much being a mom has changed my heart and my soul. Perhaps you have felt like this, too. As soon as I became a mom, in that very moment that I first held our son in my arms, one day after his birth, everything changed. Everything! And I don't mean the stuff every parent talks about--sleep deprivation, choice of diapers and formula, the brand of crib or sheets, taking 45 minutes to get out the house. I mean that FEELING of feeling EVERY. SINGLE. THING.
A few weeks ago, my husband and I were watching a TV show. In one of the beginning scenes, a mother in despair jumped off a building with her 3 month old son in her arms. It's TV. I get it, but even as I recall the scene, I'm in tears. At the moment I saw it, I burst in to tears as if it were my own child who had been heaved to his death. I don't mean to sound morbid. My point is that I FEEL EVERY. SINGLE. THING that happens to a child.
Before children, of course I felt sadness and sorrow at wrongs done to children no matter what kind of wrong it was, no matter by whom it was perpetrated. Children are innocent creatures to be protected by everyone. Or, they should be. Once I had children, though, those feelings were ramped up to a level I cannot even begin to explain or comprehend. When one parent suffers, every parent suffers. When one child suffers, no matter the age of the child, whether a tiny baby or an adult, every parent feels it. I know this to be true.
Though this event in my extended family had little to do with me personally, it had everything to do with me as a mom. I looked at this situation that had happened--to the child of a relative--and thought, "I want to kick someone's ass." There, I said it. I told my husband that if ANYONE ever hurt my kid, well... need I say more? He hugged me and comforted me, having anticipated that this would be my reaction. Even recalling this moment makes me cry. The pain I feel for everyone--especially the parents--is almost indescribable.
When I was in 8th grade, my mom, my dad, my older brothers, and I went on a sailing trip. My parents chartered a sailboat out of Fort Meyers, FL, and we sailed and we sailed. Until we ran aground. The ocean ain't like Lake Michigan. That's for darn sure. You have to pay attention to depth. HA! Long story short, we had to get tugged off the sandbar. To do that, the other boat had to tie something (I can't recall what) around the mast of our boat and then pull. My mom and I wanted to get out the way and let my dad and brothers handle the hookup. So, we went below deck. As the other boat started to tug us, of course the boat started to heel over, and my mom and I both feared the galley would start to fill with water. We were nowhere even close to a situation like that, but in the moment, it was REALLY scary.
My mom looked at me, grabbed me, and shoved me up the stairs and above deck without any thought of herself. She only cared about me and making sure that I could get out of there in one piece. It was a classic "Mama Bear" moment. I know it sounds so silly, but I have called her Mama Bear ever since. I can still see her face, and it's been 26 years.
THAT is what I mean--that feeling of wanting nothing more than to protect your children. To move mountains, to do ANYTHING to save them, to protect them, to guard them. Sometimes I feel like I just want to put my kids in a bubble, put them and their bubble in their rooms and never let them out.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Stumbling around...
What does it mean to "stumble around" after being told you'll likely never have biological children?
Well, for me, it meant noticing every single pregnant woman present on the planet. It felt like everywhere I turned there was some REALLY pregnant woman staring me in the face. Whereas I had once been curious and intrigued by the process, I was, at that point, horrified. I felt like every pregnant woman was mocking me. Of course, that was not the case, but that's how it felt. It also felt like God was being extra cruel. I'm sure most of ask God, or whatever/whomever you believe in, "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" I've seen more than my share of sorrow and sadness and death. Though I'm only 40, I feel like, because of my life experiences, I should be about 80. At this point in my life, it felt like God was just piling on. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" became an almost-daily mantra.
Invitations to baby showers rained from my mailbox. When I wasn't being faced, literally, with pregnant women, I was being invited to their baby showers. Now, I must say here that I knew several things:
I started to try and get used to the idea that we would never have children. I started to imagine a life that was just about us. Don't get me wrong--I have LOTS of friends who do not have children. Do not misunderstand what I am saying. As much as deciding to HAVE a child is a HUGE decision, so is the decision to NOT have a child. For me, though, I could not imagine a life without children. Most of my adult life had contained children: my oldest nephew was born when I was 20 and a junior in college; his brother was born 15 months later, one week after my dad died; when I was 22 I moved to Paris to work as a nanny for 3 kids for almost 2 years; I returned to the States in 1998 to watch my nephews and their new sister (born just before I moved back from Paris) grow up and become the adults they are today. My life was ALL about kids even before I had them. I knew that they were hard work, and I wanted nothing more than to do that hard work (I remind myself of this fact on the REALLY hard days with my kids).
So, how to construct a life without them? I simply didn't know. Thanks to science, I didn't have to wonder. I could let the doctors do the work for us. Science could only go so far. The rest was up to God.
Well, for me, it meant noticing every single pregnant woman present on the planet. It felt like everywhere I turned there was some REALLY pregnant woman staring me in the face. Whereas I had once been curious and intrigued by the process, I was, at that point, horrified. I felt like every pregnant woman was mocking me. Of course, that was not the case, but that's how it felt. It also felt like God was being extra cruel. I'm sure most of ask God, or whatever/whomever you believe in, "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" I've seen more than my share of sorrow and sadness and death. Though I'm only 40, I feel like, because of my life experiences, I should be about 80. At this point in my life, it felt like God was just piling on. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" became an almost-daily mantra.
Invitations to baby showers rained from my mailbox. When I wasn't being faced, literally, with pregnant women, I was being invited to their baby showers. Now, I must say here that I knew several things:
- I have the best friends in the whole world. Most of them were the ones getting pregnant, and when I came clean with them and told them hat I couldn't go, they were totally cool with it. Not one ever questioned my fidelity to our friendship. Every single one felt for me, comforted me, and hugged me as if it were happening to them.
- Pregnant women were NOT the problem. I was the problem.
- I do regret not attending those baby showers.
- I do regret spending so much time feeling so negatively about others' joy.
- I also understand that what I was feeling was totally normal and that I should let go of the regret.
I started to try and get used to the idea that we would never have children. I started to imagine a life that was just about us. Don't get me wrong--I have LOTS of friends who do not have children. Do not misunderstand what I am saying. As much as deciding to HAVE a child is a HUGE decision, so is the decision to NOT have a child. For me, though, I could not imagine a life without children. Most of my adult life had contained children: my oldest nephew was born when I was 20 and a junior in college; his brother was born 15 months later, one week after my dad died; when I was 22 I moved to Paris to work as a nanny for 3 kids for almost 2 years; I returned to the States in 1998 to watch my nephews and their new sister (born just before I moved back from Paris) grow up and become the adults they are today. My life was ALL about kids even before I had them. I knew that they were hard work, and I wanted nothing more than to do that hard work (I remind myself of this fact on the REALLY hard days with my kids).
So, how to construct a life without them? I simply didn't know. Thanks to science, I didn't have to wonder. I could let the doctors do the work for us. Science could only go so far. The rest was up to God.
Friday, January 30, 2015
So, what do you do with that whole 'infertility' thing?
After firing my OBGYN and her horrid nurse practitioner, I found myself on the phone with one of my best friends who is a nurse. I was sitting in my church parking lot getting ready to go in to spend an evening with some really wonderful, spiritual people. Just the thing I needed after hearing those unfeeling words from the NP. My best friend said, "She doesn't know what she's talking about. No one knows what this is all about. Miracles happen every day. Don't lose hope. She's a bi&ch." It was exactly what I needed to hear.
For the next few months, I stumbled around wondering if I was ever going to be a mother. I had dreamed of being a mom; I had loved kids as long as I could remember. I had started babysitting at the age of 11 and continued all the way through to the age of 24 after almost 2 years in Paris as a nanny. Sure, babysitting and nannying isn't parenting, but I KNEW that I really liked kids and that I couldn't imagine a life without them. I had gone through phases in my early 20s when I thought I wouldn't have kids, but that changed once my friends started getting married and having kids and, of course, when I met Shannon.
What would I be if I wasn't going to be a mom? How could God, in whom I believe, do this to me? I, of all people, KNEW what parenting entailed. My oldest brother had his first child when I was 20. I was there when my nephew was born, and I was around a lot. I saw first hand through my brother and his then-wife that parenting was a SH&T TON of work, and I wanted nothing more than to be a mom.
So, how do you redesign a life with that fact in mind? How do you put your best foot forward when you know that you may not ever get to fulfill your dream of being a mom? How do you redo the dream? I didn't think I could bear a life without kids. I just couldn't.
After about 6 months of stumbling around, Shannon and I decided to start the in vitro fertilization (IVF) process. Several months of testing told us that IVF was our only chance at having biological children.
In September 2006, that part of the process began.
For the next few months, I stumbled around wondering if I was ever going to be a mother. I had dreamed of being a mom; I had loved kids as long as I could remember. I had started babysitting at the age of 11 and continued all the way through to the age of 24 after almost 2 years in Paris as a nanny. Sure, babysitting and nannying isn't parenting, but I KNEW that I really liked kids and that I couldn't imagine a life without them. I had gone through phases in my early 20s when I thought I wouldn't have kids, but that changed once my friends started getting married and having kids and, of course, when I met Shannon.
What would I be if I wasn't going to be a mom? How could God, in whom I believe, do this to me? I, of all people, KNEW what parenting entailed. My oldest brother had his first child when I was 20. I was there when my nephew was born, and I was around a lot. I saw first hand through my brother and his then-wife that parenting was a SH&T TON of work, and I wanted nothing more than to be a mom.
So, how do you redesign a life with that fact in mind? How do you put your best foot forward when you know that you may not ever get to fulfill your dream of being a mom? How do you redo the dream? I didn't think I could bear a life without kids. I just couldn't.
After about 6 months of stumbling around, Shannon and I decided to start the in vitro fertilization (IVF) process. Several months of testing told us that IVF was our only chance at having biological children.
In September 2006, that part of the process began.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Before Adoption: Engagement and the first year of marriage
When Shannon and I got engaged, we talked about when exactly we would have kids. I wanted to wait a year after getting married. He agreed, but because we weren't exactly very young when we got married, he wanted to leave a little room for changing our minds.
The year we were engaged flew by. There was a lot going on in our lives and in that of my extended family. Before I knew it, it was October 30, 2004, and we were walking down the aisle.
We enjoyed our first few months of being married. We owned and lived in a condo near downtown Milwaukee, we went out a lot, we enjoyed restful weekends (I vaguely remember those), and I was furiously pounding out my dissertation. Though we didn't have kids, I felt like I did: that dissertation took up all of my time when I wasn't teaching. I loved what I was doing, so I didn't really feel like anything needed to change.
Then one day I started watching the Discovery Health channel during my lunch break. Though I worked mostly from home, I did set up regular work hours for myself. On days I wasn't teaching, I was writing by 9AM with a break at about 10:30, another for lunch at noon until 1, and then more writing from 1 until about 5pm. Having that structure and routine worked well.
So, during my downtime at lunch I would watch "Birth Stories" (or whatever it's called) and "Adoption Stories" on Discovery Health. "Birth Stories" fascinated me. It followed a woman and her partner through delivery. The show talked with family, presented any physical and emotional challenges the woman was having, and then followed up with her after the baby was born. I learned a lot about different pregnancy ailments (placenta previa, gestational diabetes, for example), and I was totally fascinated with the process.
During those shows, I also realized that I didn't really care about becoming or being pregnant. I just really wanted a newborn. How we got one didn't matter (other than it had to happen legally. HA HA).
In June 2005, my mom and I went to London for about 10 days together. Shannon and I had been married almost a year, and I knew that we would be starting a family soon. When I returned from London, Shannon and I talked about starting right then even though it hadn't been a year. His theory, and rightly so, was that we weren't getting any younger, and that we were in a good spot, had gotten in to a good routine, so why not?
I agreed, and so started the process of a biological family.
By March of 2006, so about 9 months in to trying naturally, nothing had happened. I had read online that for people our age (I was 31 and Shannon was almost 36), couples should give themselves 6-12 months to conceive. Since it had been 9 months, I decided it was time to call our doctors.
Between March 2006 and April 2006, Shannon and I had several tests done. **When all was said and done, my OBGYN's nurse practitioner told me, in a not-so-gentle way, "Based on what we see, your chances of conceiving a biological child on your own are slim to none. Your options now are either IVF or adoption."
Needless to say, I fired that OBGYN, wrote her a letter explaining why, and suggested that her NP take some communication classes.
And this is where our journey to adoption began.
**For personal reasons, I am leaving out a lot of the fertility details. If you would like to know more, you may contact me one-on-one via my Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/KathleenWhitworthWellness.
Thanks!
The year we were engaged flew by. There was a lot going on in our lives and in that of my extended family. Before I knew it, it was October 30, 2004, and we were walking down the aisle.
We enjoyed our first few months of being married. We owned and lived in a condo near downtown Milwaukee, we went out a lot, we enjoyed restful weekends (I vaguely remember those), and I was furiously pounding out my dissertation. Though we didn't have kids, I felt like I did: that dissertation took up all of my time when I wasn't teaching. I loved what I was doing, so I didn't really feel like anything needed to change.
Then one day I started watching the Discovery Health channel during my lunch break. Though I worked mostly from home, I did set up regular work hours for myself. On days I wasn't teaching, I was writing by 9AM with a break at about 10:30, another for lunch at noon until 1, and then more writing from 1 until about 5pm. Having that structure and routine worked well.
So, during my downtime at lunch I would watch "Birth Stories" (or whatever it's called) and "Adoption Stories" on Discovery Health. "Birth Stories" fascinated me. It followed a woman and her partner through delivery. The show talked with family, presented any physical and emotional challenges the woman was having, and then followed up with her after the baby was born. I learned a lot about different pregnancy ailments (placenta previa, gestational diabetes, for example), and I was totally fascinated with the process.
During those shows, I also realized that I didn't really care about becoming or being pregnant. I just really wanted a newborn. How we got one didn't matter (other than it had to happen legally. HA HA).
In June 2005, my mom and I went to London for about 10 days together. Shannon and I had been married almost a year, and I knew that we would be starting a family soon. When I returned from London, Shannon and I talked about starting right then even though it hadn't been a year. His theory, and rightly so, was that we weren't getting any younger, and that we were in a good spot, had gotten in to a good routine, so why not?
I agreed, and so started the process of a biological family.
By March of 2006, so about 9 months in to trying naturally, nothing had happened. I had read online that for people our age (I was 31 and Shannon was almost 36), couples should give themselves 6-12 months to conceive. Since it had been 9 months, I decided it was time to call our doctors.
Between March 2006 and April 2006, Shannon and I had several tests done. **When all was said and done, my OBGYN's nurse practitioner told me, in a not-so-gentle way, "Based on what we see, your chances of conceiving a biological child on your own are slim to none. Your options now are either IVF or adoption."
Needless to say, I fired that OBGYN, wrote her a letter explaining why, and suggested that her NP take some communication classes.
And this is where our journey to adoption began.
**For personal reasons, I am leaving out a lot of the fertility details. If you would like to know more, you may contact me one-on-one via my Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/KathleenWhitworthWellness.
Thanks!
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Disclaimers
In my video from Monday night (http://youtu.be/xBXRfStXc0k), I made a few disclaimer. I did a few other disclaimers in last night's video, too (You can find that video on my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/KathleenWhitworthWellness). However, I want to put some in writing too.
- Sharing our story is a really scary thing for me to do. To put our really personal stuff out there for the world to see kind of freaks me out, but I believe that it will help a lot of people. Therefore, I am sharing it.
- I love to write personal narratives. I always have. The thing with that, though, is that it requires a lot of memory recall. Given that I have two kids who keep me very busy and very tired, I can't guarantee that I can recall every detail. If someone out there asks me a specific question, I will likely be able to dig deep to find the memory. I don't want to pull a James Frey (http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2008/06/frey200806) and pretend like I can remember everything. (And, let me just say, I LOVED his book. He should have probably just included a disclaimer at the beginning of his book, and all would have been right with the world). I will always do my best to portray our story as accurately as possible.
- Adoption is an intensely personal journey. The decision we made along the way are ours alone. No one told us what to do or how to approach it. Our agency gave us suggestions, but, ultimately, everything was up to us.
- No one ever knows what he would do in any given situation until he is confronted with it, and adoption is no different. As I said in my video last night, the decision to adopt and the decisions that lie within the adoption process are as individual as the individuals who make up the process: the adoptive parents and their extended families, the birth families and their extended families, the kiddos themselves, the social workers and the adoption agencies. I will never EVER tell any person who is considering adoption what she should do. Ever. Shannon and I have our experiences, and I will share those, but I will NEVER tell anyone what to do.
- My goal is to be a resource for those who are considering adoption or who know people who are. It can be a very confusing, overwhelming process at first, mostly because, for many people, they're first told "You can't have biological children," and then they have to make a decision: Fertility treatments? Adoption? Both? Nothing? It's a crazy, whirlwind of emotion. Those feelings are not quickly forgotten.
I look forward to sharing more and to helping as many people as possible. Feel free to share my Facebook page (link above) and this blog link, too.
Thanks, Friends.
Kathleen
Thanks, Friends.
Kathleen
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Before Adoption: When we were dating
(John Hawk's Pub, Milwaukee, WI, November 2000)
Shannon and I met initially in August 1998 at the wedding of our dear friends. I had just moved back from Paris and was planning on moving back after finishing my M.A. at UW-Milwaukee. I ended up loving teaching at the university level so much that I decided to stay in the States and go on for a Ph.D.
We continued to see each other once in a while through our friends over the next two years. In April 2000, Shannon finally asked me out (I'm leaving out A LOT of details). We had such a great time together, all the time. I knew almost instantly that I wanted to marry him: He is a really great person; He was close to his mom, and he talked about her so kindly and positively all the time; He has a great circle of friends who are all really nice (just like he is) and social and love to go out and have fun; He is also really supportive of every one of my endeavors. When we started dating in April 2000, he knew that I was headed to Penn State for my Ph.D. in August of that year, and he couldn't have been happier for me. For the 6 years I worked on my Ph.D., Shannon was one of my biggest cheerleaders.
Shortly after Shannon and I started dating we discussed having children. During that discussion, we happened to share with each other that we wanted to adopt 1 or 2 kids. Before ever having met him, I knew that I wanted to adopt, and I was 99% certain that I wanted to adopt domestically (more on that later). Shannon felt the exact same way. I knew that, were we to get married, we had the same goals when it came to starting a family: we would have 1 biological child and then adopt 1 or 2 more children. I remember feeling really great that I had met someone who felt as strongly about adoption as I did. I considered it a true blessing.
We continued to see each other once in a while through our friends over the next two years. In April 2000, Shannon finally asked me out (I'm leaving out A LOT of details). We had such a great time together, all the time. I knew almost instantly that I wanted to marry him: He is a really great person; He was close to his mom, and he talked about her so kindly and positively all the time; He has a great circle of friends who are all really nice (just like he is) and social and love to go out and have fun; He is also really supportive of every one of my endeavors. When we started dating in April 2000, he knew that I was headed to Penn State for my Ph.D. in August of that year, and he couldn't have been happier for me. For the 6 years I worked on my Ph.D., Shannon was one of my biggest cheerleaders.
Shortly after Shannon and I started dating we discussed having children. During that discussion, we happened to share with each other that we wanted to adopt 1 or 2 kids. Before ever having met him, I knew that I wanted to adopt, and I was 99% certain that I wanted to adopt domestically (more on that later). Shannon felt the exact same way. I knew that, were we to get married, we had the same goals when it came to starting a family: we would have 1 biological child and then adopt 1 or 2 more children. I remember feeling really great that I had met someone who felt as strongly about adoption as I did. I considered it a true blessing.
We had such a solid plan. I should have known that life would present challenges once we got married and decided to start a family. My mom has always said, "If you want to know if there is a god, make plans." She was so right.
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