“Who would choose a 40-year-old woman to be the mother of their child,” I sadly asked myself after leaving the adoption agency. My husband and I had attended the introductory meeting to investigate agency adoption.
Married eleven years and unable to conceive, we had already attempted to privately adopt two children but were unsuccessful. We came to the conclusion that perhaps parenting was just not meant to be for us, and we resigned ourselves to remain childless, investing instead in the lives of children belonging to our friends.
About two years after our discouraging visit to the adoption agency, we received an e-mail from our pastor. He described a family on the East Coast desiring to give up a baby for adoption. Were we interested? Reluctant because of our past attempts, we nonetheless decided to respond to the e-mail. We sent a brief note telling a little about ourselves and our desire for children. We then sent off the e-mail and went away on a previously planned vacation. Little did we know what awaited us when we returned home from our trip.
A day or so after returning home, we received a phone call from the pastor of the birth mother. He asked if we were still interested in adopting this baby. I remember holding onto the chair next to me, bracing myself for the next statement out of his mouth. To our utter amazement, he told us that this pregnant teen and her parents chose us to be the adoptive parents of the soon-to-be-born baby boy. What we had previously felt was an increasingly impossible situation (we were now 42 and 43 years old) was coming about! We agreed to proceed with the adoption.
I was at once excited and terrified! Could I love an adopted child as my own? Would I feel as though I were babysitting for the next 18 years?! Did I have what it took to be a wise, nurturing and loving parent?
The mid-January due date came and went, and two weeks later we made plans to travel to the East Coast on a Saturday morning to wait for the induced birth on Monday. Friday evening before we left, we received the call that labor had begun! Before we could fly out the next morning, our son Luke had been born.
After arriving at the hospital later that day, we were met by the grandparents and taken to the nursery. Grandma handed us our baby and with tears streaming down both of our faces, all apprehensions about loving this baby were gone. Our fears were unfounded. The moment we set our eyes on him, our hearts were touched with a deep and lasting love for this little boy.
It was a bittersweet moment. This was the grandparents’ first grandchild, and they were giving it up, knowing in their hearts it was God’s plan for all of us. They had experienced our joy themselves because their daughter, our son’s birth mother, had also been adopted. Our son’s birth mom opted not to see him or meet us personally but affirmed her decision to give him up through her parents.
We spent several weeks on the East Coast as legal requirements were satisfied. We finally returned home with our long-awaited treasure. What a joy to finally see the fruit of much labor! True, we had no physical contractions; but through many prayers and tears, we were now the blessed parents of a precious child.
Would I trade our adoption experience for a naturally born child? That is like asking which of your children you love more. Adoption was God’s choice for our family. We are thankful He chose our son Luke for us – and us for Luke!