When others glance at my family, they immediately receive a peek at our history without anyone having to say a word. Two white adults and two Asian boys it’s not difficult for most to discern that adoption is part of the history. And too often, their curiosity creates one easy question: How did this family come to be?
Well, it’s a wild tale. We went from two empty nesters to five of us in under a year. And yes, it was just as crazy as it sounds.
My husband and I were both in the Air Force when we were reassigned from Illinois to England. Our nineteen-year-old daughter decided to remain behind and get a job. We were suddenly in a completely new country with no children at home and infinite possibilities to travel and see the world.
And that’s when life went in the most unpredictable direction.
I always tease that adopting two toddler boys felt like the next logical thing to do but in reality, nothing about it was logical. Folks always ask me why we chose to adopt, and even after all these years, I still don’t have a neat, tidy response. Our adoptions aren’t logical, but they’re heart sense. And that’s what I care about.
Prior to adoption coming into our life, I had one biological daughter who I raised primarily by myself. I’d always envisioned having additional children, but things took a different turn. After a hysterectomy at age forty-one, I resigned myself to the fact that the book on having additional children was closed.
Six weeks after that, I met my current husband. Timing has a peculiar sense of humor. We got married that October and were in England by January. Between selling homes, relocating abroad, and adapting to military life, we were busy. Adoption was not something we were specifically thinking about it was more of a quiet, hidden dream.
Then I ran into another American family who was stationed around the area. They had adopted a little girl from China and were in the middle of adopting again. I saw their daughter walking down a hallway with her mom’s hand in hers, and something about it just clicked. Sounds cheesy, but I knew at that moment what our family was meant to be like.
I began reading all that I could about China’s Special Needs Adoption Program and mentioned it casually to my husband okay, perhaps not so casually and perhaps more than once. I didn’t receive a yes immediately, but I didn’t receive a hard no either. Eventually, after numerous discussions, he was in, and once we made that commitment together, we were all in.
We informed close relatives and friends when we had completed our home study and were matched with a child. People’s reactions varied from excitement to worry. “Are you sure?” “You have no idea what you’re getting into?” Others meant well but the majority of them thought that we were crazy to adopt a toddler at our late forties.
When people asked, “Why China?” I’d explain that, given our living situation and the international programs available, the China Special Needs Program just made sense. It was faster than waiting eight years for a non-special-needs match, and the term “special needs” covered a wide range from minor conditions to more serious ones. It felt right for us.
The process of adoption took a long time and wore us out. Our documents could have stuffed a small suitcase forms, background checks, certificates, and more stamps than I know how to count. Each child we were matched with brought photos, reports, and stories from their caretakers. One was in an orphanage; the other was with a foster family. We sent care packages, toys, and pictures of us, hoping to connect the gap between strangers and family.
Some people have asked us if our boys are “real brothers.” I always laugh and tell them yes—they are, in the only way that counts. They may not have DNA in common, but they have a life, a home, and a connection greater than blood.
Meeting our sons for the first time was surreal beautiful, terrifying, and heartbreaking all at once. The system was fast-paced. After a brief meeting, we were handed our child and suddenly, we were parents again. The boys were scared, confused, and too young to understand what was happening. We had been prepared on paper, but nothing prepares you for that moment when a frightened little face looks at you, expecting love from a stranger.
Our two adoptions were worlds apart. One was as easy and nearly storybook-like after the first few tears. The second was chaotict ravel disruptions, visa issues, medical surprises, and lost sleep. There was even a moment when I recall thinking, What have we done? But somehow we forged ahead. Because that’s what parents do you just keep going.
During our two adoptions, our daughter returned home for a period of time. Suddenly our peaceful house became a full one three children, two adults, and a whirlwind of feelings. The transition wasn’t simple. I even experienced a bout of depression after our second adoption. Post-adoption depression is a real thing, and I learned that the hard way. I finally reached out for help and found solace in writing in a journal when speaking with others did not do the trick.
Over the years that followed, life gradually settled back into rhythm. We established routines, traditions, and a feeling of home that was strong and secure. We’ve taken our boys back to the country they were born in and are hoping to go again when they’re bigger. The most difficult now is being unable to explain their birth parents to them. We know next to nothing, and that lack is an injury I can’t heal. We’re going to do DNA tests in the near future, perhaps it could provide them with some answers.
Nine years after, our lives are so wonderfully normal. I don’t forget that our sons are adopted or that they are a different race, but it isn’t the focus of our family it’s just a part of it. What strikes me most are the glances and the questions from others the fascination that occasionally is intrusive. Adoption is not my charity work; it’s simply how my family formed.
Adoption has given us so much more than our sons. It’s linked us to groups we’d never known—other adoptive families, families raising children with differences, families who know this type of love.
I still can’t put my finger on why, all those years ago, I noticed that little girl walking hand in hand with her mom and my heart changed. But I do know this: my children all of them are the most wonderful thing that’s happened to me.
There are just so many possible ways to be a family. This is just our way.
