How It All Began: Deciding to Adopt
I decided to adopt children from foster care when I was in elementary school—I’d guess around age 8. I thought, “Why bring more kids into the world if there are kids here without permanent homes?”
I guess I was a budding white savior? We were definitely raised to be do-gooders.
For most of my life, I thought nurture was the most important part of parenthood. I never cared whether I’d be blood related to my future kids. I wanted the experience of raising them.
To her amusement, I’d tell my big sister, “I don’t want to do what you have to do to have kids.” She thought I meant sex, but I meant childbirth. That alone was another reason adoption sounded good to me as a kid!
Growing up white, middle class and with highly educated parents, I had a lot of privileges. I didn’t fail at many things. School came easily to me. What I put my mind to, I’d usually achieve. I’m organized and driven.
I check boxed my way forward—career, marriage, house. Then it was time. Home study, AdoptUSKids inquires in a spreadsheet, profiles and welcome books, bam: instant family.
The failure wasn’t instant, but I think it was inevitable (no, I don’t mean relinquishment). We were all set up to fail by a flawed system and by the foundation of adoption: loss and trauma.
Here, I’ll share my journey (no names or locations to protect everyone’s privacy) as well as share resources and invite guest bloggers.
I know the most important members—and the least heard—of the triad are adoptees and birth parents, so if you'd like to guest blog, message me on social media.