The Waiting Game: Domestic Adoption

This weekend I participated in an adoptive parent panel discussion hosted by our adoption agency, which is part off the required training for families who are on the waiting list. When I had first walked in at the back of the room, having arrived plenty early, I sat down and looked around at all the couples who were sitting in the same place I had sat three years ago. Out of the blue, I started tearing up. Why? It reminded me of the ACHE. I don’t know how else to put it. Seeing all those waiting couples brought back the same emotion I had had in that same room while we were waiting for J. Little did I know at the time, but the wait would be another two years.

When it was time for me to speak, one of the things I shared with the group is something I don’t think I’ve addressed on this site yet, and that is how one can best get through the waiting of a domestic adoption. Kristi has often shared with us her experiences with waiting for an international placement, but domestic adoptions are very different. In most cases, when you work with an agency you are notified periodically when a birthfamily is looking at your profile and you’re given some limited information about the child. Sometimes you are notified if there is a child who doesn’t quite match what your preferences were on your paperwork, but the agency thinks you might still want to be considered. In our case, we received these notifications every few months, sometimes several back-to-back. How can you not get your hopes up? How can you not feel rejected when you’re not picked? With international adoption there is often just silence. With domestic adoption there can be plenty of false alarms. Both scenarios can be torture.

The perspective you have during this process determines whether you can handle these potential matchings with grace and patience, or whether they give you ulcers and prematurely greying hair. If adopting really is all about YOU and what YOU want, then each time you don’t get picked you will feel like the victim of injustice. (Hey, been there!) But what if the waiting period wasn’t just about how long it is taking for a family to pick you, and instead it is about you being in a unique position where you are made aware of women experiencing crisis pregnancies who need lots of prayer, both for themselves as well as for their babies? What if this time was designed to give you another chance to serve your neighbor and better understand the needs of families in your community?

Quite a number of birthmothers contact agencies before letting anyone else in their family know they are pregnant. Some do this because they have relatives who will pressure them to abort the child. When you find out about this mother and child through the agency, you may be one of only a handful of people who knows that this child even exists! Because of your new “vocation” you are given the most wonderful privilege to be able to approach the Heavenly Father on this child’s behalf and ask that He would shelter, protect, love and care for this baby by providing the best home possible for her. And you can ask for wisdom, healthy, maturity and peace for the birthparents, that He would give them what they need to either responsibly parent or confidently release this child into someone else’s arms.

When your focus is on serving these children and their biological families through prayer and not just on getting a child for yourself, you can sincerely rejoice when you hear that a baby is being placed with a family, even if it’s not your family. Your prayers have been answered! Thank God that He is caring for these children through your agency and the money you are paying the agency is not just helping you find a child, but it is helping women in your community who are in crisis to get support and guidance in making the most difficult decision of their lives.

The waiting period is not wasted time. It is not a time to navel-gaze and wonder what’s wrong with you and your spouse that you haven’t been chosen yet. The waiting period can be about serving through prayer, and ACHING for the difficult lives and tough decisions these birthparents have, not just aching for yourself. Spend your time wisely and prayerfully, and one magical day you may be surprised to find out that the latest child you’ve been privileged to pray for is about to become your own.

To Adopt or Not to Adopt – Part Deux

I received an overwhelming response to yesterday’s post, many of which were emails and messages from caring, well-meaning people encouraging me and my husband to adopt a child. Many of you expressed a concern that we are using the fear of pain and the knowledge of sin as reasons/excuses not to adopt. In fact, so many of you responded this way that I realized I failed yesterday as a writer. I spent too much time describing the trees in the background of my landscape that I distracted you from noticing the flowering azalea in the very front of the picture.

Please, allow me to point out the azalea.

Gift language applies to adoption, not just to conception.

Children are a gift from God whether they are birthed or adopted into our families. God is always the One giving the gift of children, period, and He, in His loving wisdom, gives and doesn’t give this gift. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

My sinful grossness (as confessed and described in yesterday’s post) is not the reason my husband and I have not adopted a child. The reason we have not adopted a child is the same reason we have not conceived a child: God simply has not given us the gift of a child through such means. We hope for that gift every day, we try to remain open to God’s giving, and we pray that our Lord will continue to work His good and gracious will in our lives.

The intent of yesterday’s post was to comfort and offer empathy to the barren who desire adopted children but have not been given the gift of adopted children. My transparency was a clunky attempt at hugging those who sit on the receiving end of a big, fat “no” in the adoption process. It really does happen no matter how much these couples want a child, pray for a child, wait for a child, and keep trying to adopt a child. These barren brothers and sisters in Christ feel burdened by their self-perceived failure as well as others’ expectations for them to have children.

There is only Jesus for all of us, so let’s rejoice today with these couples in God’s perfect love and good will for them revealed in God’s Word and shown by Christ on the cross. Let’s join them in praying that God’s will be done for their families.

And, when given the opportunity, let’s use gift language – not “should” and “must” and “do” and “try” and other control language – when speaking to them about adoption. It will really help.

Thank you, dear brothers and sisters in Christ, for your love and prayers.

An Adoption Story to Share

One of the area newspapers ran an article on our recent international adoption of Maria. We are thankful that the writer gave us the opportunity to share our story, and we thank God that the writer allowed us to share our hope and trust in the Lord’s timing and will for our lives. You can read the story HERE.

To Adopt or Not to Adopt

…that is the question.

I used to think it was as simple as wanting to adopt, that the physical act of engaging the adoption process was all that was needed to get a child. After all, aren’t there orphans all around the world waiting to be placed in a loving home such as mine? That’s what the social workers, pamphlets, and websites tell me. It’s simple math, right? A homeless child + a couple with a home + some money = an adoptive family.

It wasn’t until my husband and I engaged the foster process ourselves and came up empty handed that we learned our wanting does not automatically equal our getting. You’d think that I, a barren woman, would already know such things; but, sometimes, even barren women forget that children- all children, adopted children included – are God’s gifts to give.

I have since learned of many other would-be adoptive parents who have yet to hear a “yes” from the Lord. You already know that Kristi and Rebecca waited years for their adopted children. Many of you are still waiting. Some of you have even abandoned the adoption process, still childless.

The truth is that God is faithful and just and wise, and He tells some of us “yes” and some of us “no.”

After living through the devastating “no” of our first attempt at local adoption (as well as two, additional, private adoptions which fell through), I am now gun-shy of adopting. I am afraid. I am afraid of opening my heart again to the hope of a child only to be crushed in the end. I am afraid of contractually and financially engaging an adoption agency during a political season when the government seems to be against me and what I believe about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in my own home. I am afraid of continually pushing my will to the front of the line when maybe my will is not what’s best for me or for an adoptive child.

Gilbert Meilaender offers this convicting instruction:

“[Adoption’s] principal aim must not be to provide children for those who want them but are unable to conceive them. If we think in that way – to the degree that we already think in that way – some of the dangers of assisted reproduction will lie near at hand: Potential adoptive parents will want not just a child to care for but the best child, a certain kind of child. The aim of adoption, by contrast, should be to serve and care for some of the neediest among us. It may, of course, also prove fulfilling for couples who have been unable to have biological children, and there is no reason to object if their interests and the interests of potential adoptive children should coincide. But adoption must remain an emergency measure, aimed chiefly at caring for children whose biological parents have not, cannot, or will not care for them.” (Meilaender, Bioethics: A Primer for Christians, 2nd ed, 17-8)

Ultimately, after living with and reflecting on God’s “no” for several years, I am afraid of adopting for all the wrong reasons. Here is the ugly truth about me:

I want to adopt, not because I have a burning desire to care for the least in the world, but because I care so much about myself. I feel guilty for having plenty, and adoption is a sacrificial, shiny, good work that might temporally assuage my guilt. Deep down inside, I still want to work for my righteousness instead of trust that Christ has won it completely for me on the cross. If I just adopted a child, I might feel better…

I want to adopt, not because I want to serve my little neighbor in need, but because I want so badly to please everyone else in my life. I see how my barrenness hurts my family, my friends, and my church, and I want to make them all happy. They often ask me about children with hope in their voices and on their faces. I have not been able to give them a child through conception. If I just adopted a child, they might feel better…

I want to adopt, not because I want to give a child a home, but because I want a child in my home. I get so lonely sometimes. I want to snuggle and soothe and sing to a child at night. I want to cook macaroni-and-cheese, hang finger-painted masterpieces on my walls, and plan birthday parties during the day. I want to put a carseat in my Honda and take a child to the park, the state fair, music lessons, dance recitals, little league games, and confirmation classes. If I just adopted a child, I might hear someone call me, “Mama…”

I want to adopt, because I am a guilty sinner, a people pleaser, and a selfish barren woman. I am so gross.

Yet, even in my grossness, my husband and I still think of adopting. It is the question we ask ourselves every month, and every month, thus far, we come up with the same answer: not today. The green light we currently see before us seems to lead straight towards serving our neighbors in our church and in our community. Our hand continually hovers over our turn signal, but the left-turn arrow still shines a stubborn red.

In all of the questioning and the hovering and the waiting, it helps me to remember this comforting truth: whether my husband and I adopt a child or not, the Lamb of God covers my grossness with His precious, redeeming blood. Christ is my salvation. Only He can truly assuage my guilt. And only He can give me the gift of child.

Thy will, Lord, not mine.

Discrimination

We discriminate, even in our suffering.

Many church women’s organizations have said to me in response to an invitation to attend a talk on barrenness, “Oh, we don’t want to hear a talk on barrenness. We’ve already had our children. That issue doesn’t affect us.”

And my heart breaks.

Not just because these women are turning a blind eye to the women in their own groups who have never had children (and to those whose children or nieces or sisters or aunts or friends have not had children), but because they would never say to a sister in Christ, “Oh, we don’t want to hear a talk on cancer. We don’t have it. That issue doesn’t affect us.”

Because, deep down inside, they know it does. Whether they personally have cancer or not, they know cancer affects someone who sits in their pew.

The same is true of all suffering. When one member of the body suffers, the whole body is affected. When the little toe is stubbed against an oak dining room chair, the face flinches, the eyes close, the fists clench, the stomach churns, the knees bend, and the larynx howls, all because a tiny member of the body is in pain.

That is, unless we remove that tiny member from the body and pretend she doesn’t exist.

To Know and Accept

I KNOW that my life may be a cross of barrenness. It is still difficult for me to ACCEPT my barrenness and then live under the cross of Jesus.

I KNOW that God has given me His good gifts. It is quite another for me to ACCEPT those gifts without giving credit to myself.

Dear God, You know what is best for me. Help me to trust and accept Your good will for my life. Amen.

An Unforgivable Sin?

Question Submitted: I’m happily married. My husband and I want children, but we haven’t been blessed with any. I want to take comfort in the fact that God gives and withholds the gift of children as you say, but I can’t. God gave me the gift of a child years ago before I met my husband, and I aborted it. I murdered God’s gift, and now I’m left childless. I’m barren at my own hand. I don’t deserve to be comforted.

Dear one, I don’t deserve to be comforted, either, yet God comforts me, anyway. Hear God’s comfort for you from one of His called and ordained servants of the Word:

Dearest sister in Christ,

In this life one of the most difficult things is to be faced with the tragic consequences of sin, whether it’s our own sin or someone else’s. At times it seems that these consequences are like open wounds, refusing to completely heal, staring us in the face as reminders that everything is not as it should be because sin has corrupted our world and our lives. It’s in the “openness” of the wound, the seeming lack of healing, that we find the most grief and heartache. But it’s also in this very same openness that we are driven time and time again to our Lord. The fact that we can do nothing about it leads us to seek out the God who has done something about it on the cross of His Son. These constant reminders, these thorns in the flesh of our hearts, serve to draw us to the only One who makes us complete in the death and resurrection of His Son, who has conquered every sin and every death.

You have confessed your own sin and admit that you feel the sting of its reminder. In confessing your sin, you do not lack repentance. As our Catechism teaches, this admission of guilt is the first part of Confession. The second part is “that we receive absolution, that is, forgiveness, from the pastor as from God Himself, not doubting, but firmly believing that by it our sins are forgiven before God in heaven.” We have our Lord’s own Word, which promises, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). Your fear is that you don’t deserve to be comforted, but blessedly, God’s grace does not depend on our worthiness. That’s the beauty of grace. Your heavenly Father forgives you, in spite of what you deserve. He bathes you in the water of your Baptism and every stain is removed. It’s a trick of the devil to get us to look at our own worthiness. Don’t look to your own faithfulness or worthiness because your Lord is faithful and just and He forgives you of all unrighteousness.

In the Old Testament, King David had to deal with the consequences of his sin with Bathsheba. The prophet Nathan told him that because of David’s sin, the child born of that sin would die. David’s guilt and grief must have crushed him as he saw his own sin have such tragic consequences for his child. And yet David still trusted in the Lord’s mercy after this loss when he said, “Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me” (2 Sam. 12:23). David, the man familiar with grief and guilt over his own sin, also wrote: “The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. He will not always chide, nor will he keep his anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:8-12). David knew not to look at his own worthiness to be comforted. David trusted the Lord to relieve and comfort him because of the Lord’s mercy and grace.

Do not look to yourself or your own unworthiness, dear sister. You’ve confessed your sin, now hear the Lord’s forgiveness. The Lord does not deal with you according to your sin. Instead, He forgives it. He sent His Son to bear your sins, every specific one, and to put them to death on the cross. Jesus takes our darkest deeds onto Himself and He gives you His own holiness. Look to your Savior and what He has done and know that you are really and truly forgiven.

Sometimes it seems that our wounds of grief or guilt will never completely heal. But as I said before, these wounds, even the wound of childlessness that you have now, serve to draw us to our Lord again and again. When your conscience stings you, run to your Lord and receive the healing of His forgiveness in His Holy Supper. When the devil holds your sins in your face, go and confess those sins to one of the pastors that your Good Shepherd has sent to you and hear the words of forgiveness again and again. When you’re tempted to focus on your own sin or unworthiness, flee to Your Savior and focus instead on His perfection that He shares with you. Your Lord is greater than your sin and He forgives you. Hold to that when the grief and guilt seem too great. Your Father forgives you, loves you, and comforts you, not because of what you’ve done, but because of what His Son has done. Peace be with you.

Rev. Tony Oliphant

Is a Baby the Answer?

Listening to a baby coo, watching her first steps, holding her tiny hand in yours… These are things that we barren women desire. We watch our girlfriends share kisses with their babies; we see dads swoop up the little ones in their arms. We listen to grandparents crow about their grandchildren’s accomplishments. Where is my baby? Where is the child that should come forth from my womb? If I gave birth, then my heartache would be gone. If we adopted, I know that my mood would improve. Having a baby would be the answer to all of my problems.

Reality check – Children aren’t happy all the time. A baby cries; a baby messes. A newborn can’t communicate her needs clearly. I’m not happy 24/7 either. Sometimes I’m angry. At other times I’m sad. I long for things that are beyond my reach. Even though I want a baby to be the answer to my prayers, a baby is not the solution to my problems.

The solution is Jesus. He provides healing. He knows the hurt we carry. He knows our deep, heartfelt desire to be a parent. He knows that our selfishness can lead to turning parenthood into an idol. God, in His infinite wisdom, knows that we need a Savior. Jesus takes us into His loving arms and holds us. He reminds us in His Holy Word that He provides for our every need. He gives us a church family to love and support us.

When we pray “Thy will be done,” we acknowledge that God is the author of all creation, and His will is best for our lives. He knows that having a baby is AN answer to prayers. He also knows that having a baby is not always THE answer to prayers. There is a difference. We pray that God would lead us to recognize His good will for our lives – with or without a baby.

A Calling Out

Both Kristi and my husband drew my attention to yesterday’s USA Today article by Kirsten Powers.

In my husband’s own words:

“I don’t know if you’ve been following the trial of abortion doctor Kermit Gosnell (and maybe you shouldn’t because it’s really horrifying, the stuff of nightmares), but it’s truly appalling how there has been basically no reporting on it from the media. [Here] is a very good column on this (purposeful?) failure of the media in USA Today.”

Thank you, Ms. Powers, for calling out the media’s silence.

A Grave Disparity

Robert G. Edwards, the 2010 Nobel Prize winner of Physiology/Medicine for his development of in vitro fertilization (IVF), died yesterday at the age of 87.

Gina Kolata of The New York Times wrote in a recent article recounting Edwards’ controversial career that, according to the International Committee Monitoring Assisted Reproductive Technologies, the “technique [of IVF] has resulted in the births of five million babies…”

Not once in her article does Ms. Kolata attempt to tally the deaths that have resulted from Edwards’ awarded technique.

If we consider Edwards’ many failed attempts in the early 1970s to bring an IVF child to full health and vitality outside of the womb; all of the failed attempts at implantation made since then by the medical community at large; all of the children discarded and killed because of their sex, chromosomal abnormalities, perceived lack of vitality, or perceived genetic flaws; all of the children selectively terminated and sacrificed for the vitality of a perceived stronger brother or sister in the womb; and our current, dismal 29.4% success rate of implantation in IVF today, the exponential number of dead children to date is hard to even fathom.

Maybe that is why Ms. Kolata, the infertility industry, the CDC, and so much of the rest of the world choose to simply ignore them.

When will we as a culture start acknowledging the death that results from IVF? Do these children who have died not also deserve our attention and respect?

He Remembers the Barren

God remembers you in Jesus