As an adoptive parent, I hear several ‘routine’ comments and questions when I discuss adoption with people. Some are comical: “How do you get her hair to do that?” “Oh my gosh, she dances just like you!” Some are unknowingly hurtful: “Why didn’t her real mom want her?” “How did you know you could love a child that isn’t yours?” [For the record, she is totally, all-the-way, for really-real OURS :) ].
One comment in particular touches my heart: “Oh, I would love to adopt a child, but my husband doesn’t feel the same.” This always strikes me as a bit sad and reminds me how fortunate I am to have married my darling husband, who continually amazes me with the sparkly gold his heart is made of.
When we decided we were ready to embrace the idea of starting a family, I asked him what he thought about adopting. He was unsure at first, and a bit hesitant to jump into that game plan with both feet… until I explained where my love for and interest in adoption came from. I poured my heart out, telling him how I have always had a quiet, but strong and sure feeling in the innermost core of myself that I was meant to adopt my children, and also how I felt about all the babies born all over the world that do not have someone to care for them, much less LOVE them, raise them, teach them...and that I thought we could definitely be such good parents to a child that needed us, and, and, and… He was on board, and was (as he always is) my rock during the roller coaster that is adoption.
We were matched with our daughter's birth mom when she was only 3 months pregnant. What we knew at that point was that she was Caucasian, due in January 2009, had seven children and was aged 33. The father was African American, 30-something and not involved.
My heart was already so committed to our adoption process that when we found out we were expecting our biological son in March 2009, just 2 months after our adopted daughter was due, I could NOT believe it was true. I took seven pregnancy tests—just to be sure. I was not ready to have a baby. I didn't want to have a baby. I was ready to ADOPT a baby. What if our birth mom changed her mind? My heart has always, always been devoted to the idea of adoption to make my family whole. I feel about adopting like I think some women feel about having a biological child—it’s what they want most in the world, and it's what completes their sense of fulfillment.
A few weeks later, though, I was picking out boy things alongside the girl things when I shopped, and it was all fine and dandy.
Hadley was born in January and appeared in this world with peachy skin, blue eyes and curly red hair....which took us by surprise as we expected a more stereotypical "biracial" appearance. Silly us! I got to love on my new sweet little baby for all of two and a half months while toting my nearly-here baby. Then it was time to shift focus and bring her brother into the world. Henry (or Hank) arrived in March, sporting an adorable miniaturized visage of my husband, which suited me just fine.
Eventually, Hadley's hair became blonde with curly ringlets. Henry donned some baby blues, and now we had two blonde haired, blue-eyed darlings that looked very, very much alike…ALMOST like twins. Finally, I could LIE and say they were twins instead of trying to explain while I still looked ready to pop but had a newborn in my arms every time we ate out or I went to the grocery store! Woohoo!
The common assumption people make when they hear our story is that we adopted because we were experiencing infertility issues. Comments like "You see, that always happens! The Lord blesses you when you just put it in his hands" are frequent. This is a tough subject for me—my kids are listening when I respond to these comments, so my replies have to be kind, educative and also defensive of their feelings at the same time. I have to validate their existences outside of the facts on how they became a part of our family, and also show that we are proud and joyful about the way they each became part of our family.
To adopt Hadley, we had to get grilled 10 ways from Sunday to be sure we were 'parent material,' have our home inspected, have people write letters vouching for our character, care for the birthmother and her children during the pregnancy, live in Oklahoma (her birth state) for a month while paperwork was wrapped up, and almost a year later, finally have our adoption finalized in court. I often felt lonely and isolated, had no friends to talk to that had ‘been there.’
To have Henry, I had to show up and push. Nobody asked me how prepared I was to take care of this child, how qualified I was or how much I had thought about how I’d handle every little situation. I could talk to pretty much anybody about it, as pregnancy seems to unite women in discussion.
While this is all very interesting to me, the funny thing is that the way they joined our family makes little difference in their lives as they grow up. We love them both; they are both marvelous, hilarious, clever little people.
So now, the tricky part is always when a stranger asks, "Are they twins?" and I say “Yes” while my husband simultaneously says “No”...and then we roll our eyes at one another while making an unspoken decision to tell the whole big story or not. We still don't have a good solid answer in that situation. I look forward to the days when my kids can answer that questions themselves, because I’m sure they’ll come up with more amusing answers than we did. We get to watch the great study of Nature versus Nurture everyday, and it is truly astonishing, truly a blessing.
The Hahn Family lives in Overland Park with their “almost twins.”