Womanly Wednesday: A Guest Post On Navigating An (Imperfect) Open Adoption

Welcome to this week’s Womanly Wednesday! This week, we have the honor of hearing from Kendra of The Ruth Experience, an amazing mama whose heart to love kids with hard stories is beautiful.  I know lots of families fighting for the hearts of kids through foster care and adoption and Kendra gives an honest, revealing glimpse into what that life looks like behind the scenes.  Thanks for sharing, Kendra! 

I sit staring at the last Christmas card envelope I need to address. Next to me, a completed stack for family and friends sit ready to go. I pull out my daughter’s card, look over her note again, the one she thought up by her seven-year-old mind alone –it’s addressed to her birth mother. She’s wondering if she would care to come to Christmas, “if she’s not too busy.”

A sad smile crosses my face as I see, once again, the tender heart that is my daughter clearly displayed across the colored note to her birth mother. I set it aside and start to write my own note to a woman I’ve never met but somehow feel connected to. I tell her that Jasmine came up with the note on her own but Kyle and I are in full agreement; we’d love to have her come for Christmas. We’ve sent cards in the past and her birth mom has responded with letters and presents of her own, offering Jasmine encouragement and love from a distance, but this is the first time we’ve invited her over for an actual visit.

I send Jasmine’s note along with our card and an extra picture of Jasmine, licking the envelope, hoping we still have the correct address for her and that she’ll receive it. Too scared to tell anyone else what I’ve done, fearing that they’ll tell me I’m crazy to invite her or try to talk me out of it, I let no one know of our note to Jasmine’s birth mom.

Every once in a while, being a foster and adoptive mom is a lonely proposition (like I shared about in this post). I have wonderful mama friends who have supported me on all fronts, who love my kids well, and who listen to all my successes and failures. But sometimes it’s hard to quite put into words the balance we try to strike with our adopted kids about birth families and adoptive families.

The bond with both sets of families for my kids is undeniable and I would be discarding a part of themselves if I ignored this other half of them, their birth families.

I put the card on the stack of Christmas letters, ready to go out to the mailbox, and whisper a small prayer that God would have his way in this situation. Unsure if we’d even hear back.

Several weeks later, I receive a call on my phone from an unfamiliar number and I let it roll over to voicemail like I often do when I don’t know who is calling. Busy with shopping for some last-minute Christmas gifts, I forget about the call for several hours. As I finally trudge to my car, I listen to the message. A young woman’s voice, sounding apologetic, saying how she misses Jasmine and would like to see her on Christmas if we’re still agreeable.

I hang up and let out an audible sigh, then call my husband to let him know she’s called. That evening we pray together, tell Jasmine her birth mom would like to come over on Christmas, and return her call, leaving a message with all the details of the morning along with our address.

Jasmine skips around the house, excited at the prospect of seeing her biological mom whom she hasn’t laid eyes on since she was a three-month-old baby (See this post for more details on that story). I watch her go, wondering how I can feel completely happy and completely sad all at the same time.

Her birth mom doesn’t call back, so the day before Christmas we call once again, leaving another detailed message, believing (and hoping) she’ll show up Christmas morning.

And then Christmas morning arrives, with all of its gift opening, caramel-roll-eating excitement, and a silent anticipation for the time Jasmine’s birth mom is supposed to arrive.

As the clock slowly approaches the designated time of her birth mom’s arrival, Jasmine is busy watching her brothers play their new Wii game. Ten minutes go past the time, then twenty. Kyle and I look at each other, unsure what to do. More time passes, and it’s getting closer to the time we need to leave to be with family at 11 a.m. At 10:40, we call the kids upstairs and tell them to get ready. Jasmine goes to her room to bring her new doll and I follow her inside.

Sitting on the bed, I kneel down in front of her. I hug her and tell her that I don’t think her birth mom is coming today. She nods and says it’s okay. I tell her that I’m sorry, I’m sure she just couldn’t get a ride or something else came up. Knowing that my daughter can sometimes worry, I tell her that I don’t think anything bad has happened to her mom, and she needn’t worry that she is all right.

She again nods and tells me it’s okay, that she’s disappointed but she’ll be all right. I hug her tight, reminding her how loved she is, how wanted, how precious she is to us. We pull apart and she smiles.

As we leave the house, I wonder if we made the right decision, which is so often my thought as an adoptive mom. Am I doing this right? Were we wrong to invite her? Should we call again?

And then my thoughts move to my daughter, Is she going to be all right? Does she know how loved she is? Will she grow up always with an ache in her heart? All questions to which I don’t really have answers.

Being a parent is challenging, and wondering if you’re doing it right is normal, even expected. Often we pray, believe for the best, do what we can or think is right, and leave the rest to God. And with all the questions still swirling in my head, I finally land on this thought: God will take care of this child. He loves her more than I, her father, or anyone else ever could. Will I do my best to protect her? Absolutely. But I cannot prevent her from experiencing heartache–she already has–all I can do is love her, be honest with her, and help her navigate life and the circumstances that make up who she is and where she comes from.

I don’t begrudge Jasmine’s birth mom at all; I know she has had to face her own struggles and challenges in life, and I’m not sure my story would be any different, given similar circumstances. Everyone has imperfections and deficits, some easier to see than others, and my only hope is that one day she’ll be in a stable enough place to have consistent interaction with Jasmine. Until then, we’ll keep sending cards and pictures, talking about what makes us family and trusting God to handle whatever comes up in the future. This is the balancing act of navigating an (imperfect) open adoption.

Kendra Roehl received her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in social work and has worked for hospice programs, low-income housing, and the St. Cloud Veterans Affairs Medical Center. The mother of four, she and her husband are former foster and adoptive parents who took in approximately 20 children over six years. You can find Kendra writing honestly about topics such as marriage, motherhood, foster care and adoption and social justice at The Ruth Experience. You can also find Kendra on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest.