Open Adoption

I will be the first to admit, two years ago when we knew we would some day adopt, the thought of an open adoption was the last thing I wanted. It actually scared me a little. We had spent 11 years in effort to have our own children. Our final effort was a quick, routine surgery to check out my insides. Forty-five minutes of some dye running through my fallopian tubes to clear them and make sure they functioned the way they needed too and a look at my uterus, just making sure all was well.

It was anything but well. After surgery at age 2, 4, 16, 18, and 21 to cure me of cancer and removal of its resulting scar tissue growth, here I was at 30 hoping and praying this would result in my version of a happy ending. It was November 2006, I had the surgery two days before Thanksgiving (I had the holiday off and decided to take full advantage of it). I remember vaguely Steve driving me home and delicately telling me I was full of scar tissue...everywhere. Scar tissue=no baby.

Surprisingly I wasn't sad...that night and for several nights after. We headed to Flagstaff for Thanksgiving and that very holiday morning awoke early to a wet shirt. I went to the bathroom to quietly check things out so I wouldn't wake Steve and there it was...a green, wet shirt. I knew right away what it was, really really bad. The small incision made in my belly button was leaking and I could see a greenish outline under my skin. I called the on call nurse who told me to take my pain medication and call the next day if I still had green, smelly goo coming from the hole in my belly button. Thankfully I knew better and woke up Steve and my parents and asked them to take me to the hospital.

To make things short, I was soon life-flighted to Phoenix in a snazzy helicopter with my brother Mac (they thought Steve and my dad were too tall to fit, not realizing Mac is only a little shorter). I was met by doctors who I knew and had worked with (I love them, but that's another story). They spent five hours on Thanksgiving day cleaning me out and repairing my small intestine which had numerous small holes in it from the previous surgery. All went well considering the damage that had occurred and bonus for my family, they all got to eat Thanksgiving dinner at Mayo Clinic (I know you think that's bad, but you really should try it, you would be surprised)!

Recovery was tough (both physically and spiritually). Dealing with an ailing body (again) and the idea of not bearing my own children was almost all I could bear. In the resulting months I had my stomach cut open 3 more times (while I was awake this time) to clean out infection and help it heal right. I had a woundvac hooked up to my tummy (something everyone should try at least once), and had many visits from a variety of interesting home health nurses. Mercifully the Lord blessed me greatly during this time, in many ways but two in particular.

First, I had the distinct impression from my Aunt Lucy that I would adopt children just as she did. It was an incredible blessing that has continued on. Second, my dad donated one of his kidneys to my mom's mom in January 2007 and needed to stay close to Mayo so he stayed with us for a month while he recovered along with me. I will never forget how much this helped me. It is a rare thing to get to spend everyday doing little more than eating Ding Dongs and watching The Price Is Right for an entire month with your dad. I will forever treasure that time with him.

By April of 2007 we had our mountain of adoption papers and painfully got through them and finally turned in by January 2008. We went to several classes and workshops regarding adoption and all that goes with it. The most memorable was meeting and hearing the story of birthmom Tamra.

Something began to happen, adoption was already changing me. I started to feel differently about the whole process, I was so excited I was getting the chance to adopt! I felt at some point during that painful year of mourning the loss of carrying and bearing a child that I was feeling that pain for a reason, and it was incredible pain. Far worse than any physical pain I have had. But I was feeling it so that I would have an understanding of what a birthmom would someday experience over a child for me.

I felt I had lost several things: the power to create a child, my healthy body (I had worked it over and was in the best shape I had been since high school), I felt all alone at times, one of my favorite doctors (who had carried me in a sense through my own personal nightmare) moved, and some of my family relationships were strained which is awful especially when they were the only family I felt I had at the time.

Finally, after that year I felt I was beginning to heal (in every way). Adoption was changing me, the Lord was changing me and I was so grateful. I needed to change. I started to see the atonement of Jesus Christ differently, I started to see and feel just how he had suffered for me. And I was so thankful for Him. I just wanted to be and do whatever He would have me do to be better, and not just in hopes that He would repay me with a baby. I just wanted to be the person He wanted me to be for His sake, because I felt so indebted to Him and because I wanted to show my love for Him and the sacrifice He had made for me. I began to see the Plan of Happiness as I never had before. I was beginning to understand that I did not need a baby to be happy, He had already provided me everything I needed to be happy...His life and His death were all I really needed. And from this, EVERYTHING began to look, sound, and feel different to me.

Fast forward to January 30, 2009...the day I met Norma. I had already developed a great love for birthmoms after meeting several and hearing their stories. I just loved them and knew when I met mine I would love her as I had never loved anyone. It quite simply is just a different kind of love, but so intense and deep I know only God could describe it. When she told us she had chosen us the next morning, I could do nothing but cry. I just could not and still can not understand what love she must have for this precious little boy to willingly give him to us. HOW in the world could I just say, "Thanks for the baby, we hope your life is happy, see ya." What person would not want to be life long buddies, friends, and pals with someone so amazing? What parent would not want that person to play a role in this precious child's life? What better example of love, sacrifice, humility, faith, obedience, and willingness to follow the Lord could I give this child than the Savior himself?

People keep asking me how often, how long, do I have keep having visits with the birthmom? I want to say first of all, her name is Norma and she is more than amazing, she is one of the greatest people I believe I will ever have the privilege of knowing. Zadok aside I want her in my life. I can not even say her name without a tear coming to my eye or my heart feeling all soft and warm for what she has done for Zadok and Steve and me. She is the hero in this story, she is what makes me cry as I am on my knees in gratitude to the Lord. I want to say thank you, thank you, thank you that I never carried and bore this child because I GET to adopt him!

Adoption is such an amazing gift, surely something this wonderful could never be second best to being a biological link to a child. After all, don't we all come from the same place? All linked to the same Heavenly Father? All spiritually linked ourselves? Zadok is seen by some as "given to us" by someone else, but are we not all of us entrusted to earthly parents by God himself, no matter what path we may take to get there? How could one path ever be better than another? Surely adoption was always a part of His plan to create families. What an incredible blessing we have been given to be chosen for this path. I would have it no other way. I love you Norma, can't wait to see you tomorrow!