Enough

Today is the two-year anniversary of the day we brought home Emerson. Today we will celebrate Gotcha' Day. I am not a fan of the word gotcha'. I don't like to drop off the endings of words. Someone who adopted a child long before we did thought it was a good word. Celebrating The-Day-We-Brought-You-Home-From-The-Adoption-Agency-And Welcomed-You-To-Our-Family doesn't have the same punch as gotcha'. So until I can come up with a better word, we will celebrate Gotcha' Day.

People who build their families in a more traditional way are able to describe the first moments of life. They describe the cries, the cone-shaped heads, the euphoria and the exhaustion. We can't describe that. So we describe the moment we met. The Cradle is the adoption agency we used for all three of our children. And in all three of our adoptions we were able to make the trek to the Cradle's Evanston location to meet our children a few days before they were placed with us.

In order to enter the Cradle's nursery you have to be buzzed in. You ring a buzzer at the front door and someone comes over the intercom asking what you want. Emerson's birth mother had given her the name Heaven. We aren't allowed to change the name until the actual placement. As far as the Cradle was concerned the baby's name is what the birth mother called her. So I would ring the buzzer and say, "I'm here to visit Heaven. I'd like it to be a relatively brief visit and I'd like to come back to my life afterward because I'm not quite ready for Heaven just yet." Those Cradle employees don't have much of a sense of humor.

Once inside the Cradle, we were led to the "Belonging Room." The Belonging Room has a changing table, a few toys and books for older siblings and the ugliest blue couch in the world. The funny thing is we have the first pictures of all three of our children on the same ugly blue couch. The even funnier thing is that all the people we know who have also adopted through the Cradle have pictures on the same ugly couch. I imagine that the Cradle's interior designer has a slightly warped sense of humor and a goal to see how many homes will have pictures of the ugly blue couch.

Once in the Belonging Room we were asked to wash our hands, put on a smock and have a seat on the couch while the nurses got our baby. It was the same process for each kid. When the nurse handed Peyton to me she was a tiny bundle tightly swaddled in a pink blanket. My first thought was "I've had burritos bigger than you." Bennett weighed in at slightly under five pounds and I thought about his size in relation to bags of sugar. Apparently I think about food when I'm nervous and excited and falling in love.

For the life of me I cannot remember my first thoughts about Emerson. I fear I was thinking of the logistics of three kids. I was thinking that Beth and I would be out-numbered and would need to shift from a man-to-man defense to a zone. I was thinking about reconstructing the crib and if we had remembered to tape the screws to the unassembled pieces when we took it down last time. I was wondering if Peyton and Ben should share a room until the baby was sleeping through the night. I was wondering if Peyton would feel resentful of being moved out of her room. I was wondering if I would have enough energy, resilience, resolve to be the mother of three.

The falling in love part was the same with Emerson. The only time I truly believe in magic is when a Cradle nurse hands me my baby and I instantly fall in love. The moment they snuggle into my arms I lose all reason. I would gladly step in front of a bus to save this baby. From the first time I hold them they are a part of me.

Lately we've been getting a lot of questions about our response should the Cradle call a fourth time. Our children have the same birth mother. After praying for the well-being of my children, my second most frequent and fervent prayer is that our birth mother has made changes in her life. The great injustice of adoption is that for me to experience absolute joy, another woman had to surrender a part of herself. It is always her choice but that doesn't make it less painful. I believe that she would have preferred to have a life that didn't include an unplanned pregnancy. I believe she would have preferred not to make the call to the Cradle. We've never met our children's birth mother but I want to believe these feelings are universal.

One evening last summer Peyton asked about her birth mother. My kids know about adoption and they know their story. Until this moment we had been able to talk about facts. You were born on this date. You were released from the hospital and spent X number of days in the Cradle's nursery before we were able to bring you home. Mama asked the Cradle's nurse so many questions that Mommy was fearful that the people in charge would change their mind about placing you with us.

Until this summer we were able to recite details and it had been enough. Everything we've read and heard says that kids start questioning the "why's" of adoption around age seven. At seven they can conceptualize that in order to be adopted, someone had to give them up. [I am very careful to use positive adoption language. We say "place for adoption" instead of "give up" or "give away." In this instance "give up" is what the kids feel.]

On this night, Peyton asked more than the usual questions about her beginning. She asked the questions that we've dreaded. She asked if her birth mother had other children. Beth and I have a strict no lying to our children rule. It's strict if you don't count stories about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and whether or not all children really do go to bed at 7:30 pm.

As luck and fate would have it, I was at a meeting that night that Peyton asked Beth the questions. Beth told Peyton that her birth mother was parenting three children. Beth pulled out the adoption file and shared the details of her unknown siblings. We know their names and their ages.

Peyton asked why. Why did her birth mother choose to parent some but not others? Beth explained to Peyton that her birth mother didn't have enough. Beth was careful to NOT emphasize money. She explained that her birth mom didn't have enough time, she didn't have enough energy, she didn't have enough education, she didn't have enough resources. She didn't have enough to provide the life she envisioned for Peyton, Bennett and Emerson. She did love them enough to find mommies who could provide that life.

When people ask what we will we say if our birth mother places another baby for adoption, my first response is that I pray she doesn't find herself in that situation. If pressed, I say our family feels complete. Three children, our three children feel like enough. I fear that I won't have enough for a fourth. I fear I won't remember how I felt when the Cradle nurse first hands him to me. I fear I won't celebrate the first words and first steps. I fear I don't have enough time or energy to make sure the first birthday is special. I fear I won't have enough brain cells left to remember their favorite books or favorite cookies. I fear that I won't be enough.

This isn't about enough money. I am NOT a participant in the "Name It & Claim It" faith movement. I'm fearful that what I'd "name" would be pretty limited compared to what God has in store for me. I do however believe that God provides all the resources I need. That has been true in the past and I have no reason to start doubting it. This isn't about finances. It is about my capacity.

At some point my children will be old enough to ask the next question that I dread. If we are presented with another baby and if we decline, how will we answer the why question? Even if we explain the logic, will that be enough?