Maybe She Misses Her Real Mom

My son Ferb was born to us after several rounds of IVF. I know everyone thinks his or her child is nothing short of a miracle, and when Ferb finally came along, I started believing in miracles, too. When we found out that conceiving a child naturally wasn't in the cards for us, G and I looked into both fertility treatments and adoption. We even started the process of adopting from China while we were undergoing fertility treatments. I know the professionals say you're not suppposed to do that, but we did. When I got pregnant, we put the adoption on hold (we hadn't gotten that far into the process) and planned to start it up again when Ferb was a couple of years old. I was glad I got to experience pregnancy, but I wasn't in love with the idea of going through all of it again -- until Ferb got a little older. Then I started yearning for another little Ferb. So instead of starting the adoption process again, we got on the IVF train again when Ferb was almost two.

Some people say the IVF failures are just as bad when you're trying for a second. I disagree. They were painful, but having my little Ferb around helped bring me back to life each time. After a year of failed cycles I had had enough, and we decided to go back to our original plan to adopt a baby from China. This was in 2005, when adoptions from China generally took about a year from start to finish. I do vaguely remember telling Ferb about the process, although he wasn't even three years old yet so I'm not sure he even got it. The social worker who did our pre-placement visits talked to him, but I don't think he had any idea what was going on. We finished our paperwork fairly quickly and thought we were on our way to being united with our second child, but the months turned into years and after two years of waiting we realized we weren't even half-way through the wait. I'm not going to get into all the possible reasons why the China adoption program slowed down; the bottom line was that it wasn't going to happen for us.

Our adoption agency primarily does international adoptions, but they are licensed to do domestic adoptions in the state. When we went to withdraw our paperwork from the China program, we asked if there were any other options, and they mentioned that every few years they get a call from a local hospital if a woman has a baby and after the birth decides to place the baby (and she doesn't have a pre-existing adoption plan). They emphasized that this is very rare, and it was unlikely to happen for us, but to me it seemed like the perfect way for me to slowly come to terms with the fact that we wouldn't be having a second child. There was still that little glimmer of hope that I could hold onto when I needed it, but it was small enough that I could start the process of acceptance and moving on. So, we updated our homestudy for a domestic adoption, paid some more fees to the agency, and that was that.

I've always hated the expression "a watched pot never boils." It's scientifically impossible, right? But sure enough, as soon as I gave away all of Ferb's baby stuff, converted the "nursery" into an office, and finally was at peace with having an only child ... that's when we got the call. A baby girl had been born the previous day, the agency told me. "Can you pick her up at the hospital tomorrow?" (The story of our first meeting with Lily will be another entry.)

Ferb was now five, and we hadn't talked about adoption in a long time. He had no idea there was even a possibility of us adopting, so you can imagine his surprise when he came home from pre-school and met his baby sister. We barely got out the explanation before he was jumping up and down saying, "I'm your big brother, I'm your big brother!" I spent that day getting the essentials - diapers, clothes, something for Lily to sleep in. I had virtually nothing.

Lily had been sleeping most of day, but it was now approaching night time, and she was starting to get fussy. My in-laws were coincidentally in town, and extended family had come over to meet Lily, and we were all gathered around as Lily's cries got louder and louder. The typical theories started flying -- "Maybe she's hungry." "Maybe she's warm; let's change her clothes." It's probably gas. That sounds like a gas cry." Maybe she needs a new diaper." And then Ferb piped in: "Maybe she misses her real mom."

There was a collective gasp, and then a rush (by everyone in the room) to assure Ferb that I was Lily's real mom. Everyone was nervously talking over the other in an effort to convince Ferb that this time was no different than the time we brought him home from the hospital. I looked at Ferb, and I knew he wasn't buying it. And deep down, I wasn't either. Looking back, it amazes me that we were all so afraid to even consider the idea that Lily was dealing with emotions related to the separation from her mother. The truth was, I was just some woman who picked her up from the hospital that day. It wasn't just like the time I brought Ferb home from the hospital, so why was everyone so desperate to convince Ferb that it was?

Ferb's insights didn't end that day. His way of looking at life, relationships, and the adoption without any filters has helped me see things in a way that I don't think I would have done on my own. He's forced me to question what most of society wants us to think about adoption -- that it's this perfect solution to everyone's problem: Family 1 wants child. Family 2 cannot care for child. Family 2 gives child to Family 1. Joy!