JUST DON'T GET IT

Mick & Tabitha share their adoption insight. Most names have been changed

to protect privacy.

(Another successful adoption associated with Christian Adoption.)


Some people just don’t get it, and unfortunately for them they often cross my path. My husband not-so-jokingly says that the quickest way into or out of my heart is to insult birthmothers, and insulting our Stacy is just plain dangerous. On the day that I was blessed to receive the latest ultrasound pics from Stacy, I stopped by my old workplace to show off my beautiful twins-to-be. Everyone was appropriately impressed with how extraordinarily beautiful they are. It’s pretty obvious already that these are no ordinary babies. And I can assure you that I am, as a scientist, completely impartial. But back to my story--I was in the supply shop and discussing our adoption with a dear acquaintance who, after having a full hysterectomy at 26, longs to adopt but cannot because her husband has no desire to do so. (She lives vicariously through our adoption process.) Oohing and aahing over the pics, and she wasn’t faking it, she drew the attention of one of the maintenance men. Peering over her shoulder, he asked who they belonged to. When I proudly beamed and told him that they were my kids, he looked at my abdomen quizzically. Laughing, I told him of how we had been blessed by God with these twins, and about how wonderful their birthmother was, yada, yada. He stopped me short and informed me of how selfish he thought our birthmother was. At this point, my husband would have told him to run for the hills. But I was fairly calm--“What do you mean selfish? She loves these kids so much that she wants them to have what she can’t give them yet.” He snorted. “She’s gonna regret this someday and know that she made the biggest mistake of her life. Oh-not that you’ll be bad parents, they’ll be lucky to have you...” “Well, WERE the lucky ones, actually,” I corrected him. “And if she’ll be the one missing out and not the babies, doesn’t that make her selfLESS?” “No,” he replied firmly. “She’s going to miss out on the joy of being their mother, and that’s very selfish of her.” My brow furrowed. “Isn’t it selfish when you look at your own gain as being more important than someone else’s needs? So, if she knows that she’s missing out and she’s willing to do that anyway, how is that selfish?” Well, the conversation went on for a lot longer than it ever should have, with him being incredibly insulting to birthmothers, and proving to everyone in the room that he didn’t have two brain cells to rub together. And the more weird everyone in the room looked at him, the more adamant he was in his story (of course the real story, which I learned later, is that his 19 year old daughter is raising a baby alone in their home and he feels very defensive about adoption). As he left, and I was near tears, a newer employee came up to me and put her arm around my shoulder and said, “I’m really thankful for young women like Stacy, and for people like you. Forty years ago my birthmother handed me over to the social workers and it was the best thing she could have done for me. My mom tells me about how she cried as she did it and how much she loved me. I don’t think that there was a selfish bone in my birthmother’s body.” I smiled and nodded, and thought back to another young birthmother.

Birthmothers throughout history have placed their children for a number of reasons--poverty, youth, fear, the lack of a father--but I am reminded of one young woman who placed her newborn son because his life was in danger. She is unnamed in the scriptures, but her single act of courage is admired by Christians, Jews and Muslims world-wide. She placed him, not in the arms of a social worker like my co-worker, but into a basket and set him afloat on the Nile. She did this because she knew that all she could offer him was discovery and, inevitably, death, and so she gave him a chance at life. As other Jewish mothers clung to their children, wanting them so badly that their deaths were the tragic result, this singular mother let go. I imagine that letting him go was much harder, in many ways, than holding on despite the death sentence. Did she not care for him? How could she just give him up like that? The answer is simple--she would rather that he live in the arms of another mother than to languish and die in her own. And as further proof of her care, she sent his sister along to watch him as he floated down the river. It is understandable that she could not bear to just let him go without the knowledge that he was going someplace safe. Did she feel loss? Of course she did, and I have no doubt that the river swept away her heart as it did the basket. Imagine the heartache as she waited for the news that an Egyptian princess had plucked her son from the water and had taken pity upon him. And imagine her pride in the years to come--the pride that she had sacrificed, that she had saved his life, that he was living a life that she (through no fault of her own, only in timing) could not give him. Of course, Moses’ mother was blessed by being the one chosen to nurse him - surely a mercy of God in recognition of her sacrifice - and only had to truly release him once he was weaned. And she rendered him again, this time to be formally adopted by the Egyptian princess who rescued him from the Nile. This time, she knew exactly what she was doing, where she was placing him, and why, but I doubt that it was any easier. This makes me wonder how God feels about closed adoptions. I have no doubt that He honors those brave birthmothers who simply trusted in Him to provide the right home, but thousands of years ago He opted for the first open adoption. Moses knew that he was adopted, he knew his own mother (we know this because he knew that Aaron was his brother), and he undoubtedly knew the reasons behind his strange circumstances. He also had a unique place in the world, as the scriptures tell us that he walked freely between the worlds of the Egyptians and the Hebrews. That is how I think we are meant to approach adoption from a God-centered life.

Our sons-to-be, Matthew and Andrew, have a birthmother named Stacy, grandparents named Hope and William, an aunt Susan, an uncle Rick, and even a cousin Hannah. Children don’t just appear in our arms without very real links to those who have loved and nurtured them, and adoption is no shameful family secret that should be hidden from the children. Like Moses, all adopted children were loved enough to be released. Like Moses, all adopted children were loved enough to be chosen. And like Moses, adopted children have a right to be proud that they have been loved by many families in this very unique and God designed way. I pray that we will be found praying for and loving our children’s birth families. I hope that we are found reaching out in love to them as Christ would.

I pray that we are all blessed with the children that God has woven for us, either in the womb of another or in our own.

Much love through Christ our lord,

Tabitha

Mick & Tabitha have successfully adopted twins Matthew & Andrew!


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