Aug 26

Dear Chosen Child,

This week we received word that we are officially registered in your country of birth. We are now officially waiting. Expecting. For several weeks already, in fact. We were told that we were registered as of August 5. I feel like I did when I learned I was pregnant – like something amazing was going on for quite some time without my knowledge, a secret miracle.

Because, as I’ve said before, sweet child, I may not carry you in my body, but I carry you in my heart. At the risk of sounding overly sappy or romanticizing the waiting process, I am finding my thoughts and emotions very similar to when I was pregnant with your brother and sister. You are always there in the back of my mind, a possibility hovering in the mist.

Whenever I imagine the future you are always in the picture. When I think of Christmases and family holidays and going to the park and out for dinner and the first day of school and so many every day things, I think of you and how you will fit into us. Every time I pack up another bag of your sister’s clothes I think of you and imagine dressing you in them some day, deciding which precious items I will keep for you. When I sort through toys that are no longer used I picture you using them. I speculate about what you will like and what your personality will be, how you get along with Avery and Kieran, and just what it will be like when you are finally here, a part of us. No matter which way a child comes to you, expecting is basically the same. Anticipation. Imagination. Hope. Joy.

Love,
Mommy

PS-This is us, waiting for you to come home.

Apr 17

Dear Chosen Child,

This week we handed our enormous stack of paperwork off to our social worker to be sent off to one government office and then an adoption agency, and then to your country for translation and eventually to the government of your country and then to the bottom of a pile somewhere. This marks the beginning of our long wait.

We have just finished wading through the madness of homestudies, documentation, doctors’ appointments, criminal record checks, social services checks, lawyers and the seemingly endless details required to be allowed to wait for you. At times it feels overwhelming. A precarious mountain of paperwork to climb before we begin the slow descent towards bringing you home. Many have questioned the need for this much paperwork or the fact that we need to prove ourselves when there are children waiting for families. I’d be lying if I said I never felt even a little resentful. But a wise person has reminded me that while we are looking for a child, there are those who are searching, on your behalf, for a family.

If you ever question whether you were loved before you came to be with us, I can tell you already that I know this to be true. Because while I don’t like that it has to take so long and the red tape is sometimes tiring, it is good to know that there are people out there making sure that you will come to a good home. They don’t just care about getting rid of kids. They are genuinely concerned deeply for the children in their care and want them to have the best homes and lives possible. And while there may be days when you sincerely question their judgment in giving you to us (read: the teenage years), I hope you will feel the true devotion of these special people to seeing you not just live, but flourish.

We have been told to find out all we can about the culture of your birth. In doing so I have realized that I have had some major misconceptions regarding intercountry adoption. Countries do not relinquish their children easily. In North America we can be so egotistical as to believe that countries with orphans who need homes should thank us for adopting. But I have begun to realize how terribly much humility it takes for a government to allow citizens of another country to take and raise their children in a different culture. I have realized that while I have a responsibility to you to teach you about the country and culture of your birth, I also have a responsibility to your country of birth to teach you about the people you come from who loved you and cared for you and gave us the opportunity to love you too.

I have been warned not to call you “Chosen”. Something I never thought of as a bad thing, because I felt that I made the choice to become a parent, by birth and by adoption. Although it can safely be said that that is where my choice ended as I didn’t choose your brother and sister specifically, nor will I have the opportunity to choose you. It was suggested to me that adopted children who have grown up with the label “chosen” sometimes feel tremendous pressure to be…something extraordinary? I’m not sure. Let me be clear: I expect no more than for you to be happy and make the best choices you can in life and to learn from your mistakes. I use “chosen child” for you at this moment because I don’t know you and calling you “Child-who-is-probably-not-born-yet-and-who-I-plan-to-love-until-my-insides-explode” is not practical. I hope you understand.

With all my love,
Mommy

Feb 17

Dear Chosen Child,

This is the first of what may be many letters. The beginning of what will very likely be a long and excruciating and completely unconventional kind of pregnancy. We have been thinking and dreaming about adopting since before we had your brother and sister but only in the past few months have we begun actively proceeding towards that end. As we begin to discuss details and paperwork and plans I spend more and more time dreaming about you. And then it hit me…

You are very likely not even born yet. We expect to wait several years for a referral and with the age limit we have set, it is most likely you will be born in the next 6 to 18 months. We are planning for a child who has not yet been born to a mother who will eventually decide to give you up. Somewhere a woman is pregnant, or will be very soon. Somewhere she is, or will be, feeling and thinking…I don’t know what. I can’t pretend to know. But she is, or will be, carrying you. So I can’t help think about her and be grateful for her and hope that you will keep enough of her inside you to help answer the questions you will no doubt have some day.

Somewhere, you will be born this year. On a day I won’t know and a time I won’t realize. My heart hurts, knowing your dad and I won’t be there right from the start but that’s going to be a fact of our relationship. Your beginning will be special. You will touch other people’s lives before you touch ours. But you will be in our hearts from the beginning, before we know you.

Right now I feel somewhat overwhelmed by the paperwork involved in getting permission to wait for you. But the fact that this road will eventually lead to bringing you into our arms is giving me the motivation I need.

Meanwhile, I think of you and I think of the mother who will carry you in her body while I carry you in my heart. She and I are connected, and always will be. It is heartbreaking that for you to come into our family she will have to let you go. But it is beautiful, too. I promise you this, we won’t forget her.

Maybe it sounds like I have a romanticized view of this process. Believe me, I am doing my best to understand the realities of adopting. I know there will obstacles while we wait, challenges when we meet, hurdles as we bond. But I am choosing to believe that even though we are sacrificing witnessing the first few years of your life by taking this path, it will be worth it in the end to know you. I believe it will be worth it for you to be a part of our family.

Holding you in my heart until then,
Mommy