If I were to write a story about becoming a mother, it would not be this one. It would have been more like this: birth one or two children, apply to adopt internationally from either China the Ukraine or somewhere southern Africa, birth another second or third child, welcome home our third or fourth adopted child, consider adopting domestically depending how our family was humming, adopt domestically depending on the aforementioned humming, and close down shop at 35 or 36. Sound crazy? This was my dream.
In 9 months I will be 35…um…ya…scratch the record on that music...not happening. But, however, and, did you hear that line though? The hum always included adoption. Why? It is really hard to say. I can tell you two things: 1. It feels I have always embraced the identity of an adoptive mother; 2. My life story is full of orphanages, world-wide (hence the countries I mentioned above).
But as with all idealized dreams, reality brought the complexity of relationships, bodies, money, personal limitations, and, oh yes, time; the family dream engine broke down within five miles of home. At points I have felt stuck on the side of a country road, in the pouring rain, by myself, no umbrella, with a smoking engine.
On this side of reality, though, I am not alone at all. Many people have come along and the story has continued. For starters, I have a wonderful husband that I don’t have to dream about. He is actual, a good person to share the driving load with and is actually, very handy.
For secondly, in 2009 I started going down to the Dominican Republic with some new friends and I have kept going back with our little grassroots, non-profit called Project I See You. And in the midst of those trips I have seen more stories of adoption, held more beautiful babies, and was given a doorway to walk through that I would have not imagined on my own.
Last week, Dan Wagner and I knocked on the door of an agency, applying for adoption from the lovely, loving, luscious country of The Dominican Republic. Its like telling you all we are four weeks pregnant – its that fragile and nerve-racking. But, I am keeping my commitment to transparency, and trust you will give us a lift if this car breaks down along the way.