I am a parent of multitudes. A parent of three, a stepparent of three, a grandparent of six, and a previous foster parent of two. Of course, most people would say I am a parent of three, and some people may even deny me that label. I adopted my three, existentially mine forever, beloved and delightful children from abroad. It is somewhat controversial now, but it wasn’t so much then. Let me tell you how it came to be my way of parenting.
There I was, a poor college student with a seemingly intractable health problem, one that would make pregnancy dangerous, even life-threatening, for me. As I formed ever more serious relationships, I would have to discuss this. When I married for the very first time, my husband agreed to have a vasectomy, not wanting children himself. However, when we went to arrange this, the doctor wisely said, since I was the one with the health issue, why wouldn’t I get a tubal ligation? So I did. That marriage ended in friendship, and I was resolved to be a happy, child-free person. Except I wasn’t all that happy. Children, it turns out, were important to me.
My next long-term, serious relationship led to a celebration of marriage, and we began to consider adopting children. We were both 30 by the end of our graduate school careers, and ready to launch into academia. Adoption was a highly accepted and common event – so common that we were told it would take seven years on a waiting list before we could have a home study* completed, and then we might have to wait up to seven years for an infant to adopt. We could be as old as 44 before a child might arrive. This was the process, we were told, for domestic adoption through the public social services. I tried again to wrestle with the reality of being child-free. It still didn’t work for me.
Into our world came an example of an alternative path to parenthood. One wintery, cold, and dark evening, a relative my age and her husband stood at my front door, holding a bundle of smiling joy! This couple had just picked up their tiny child at the international airport and would stay with us overnight before returning to their hometown up north. We were thrilled to discover the reality and the possibility of international adoption.
We consulted our social worker. She gave us a referral to a small agency in the state we were moving to as we began our university careers. This agency, which she was familiar with, specialized in international adoptions. As soon as we relocated, we contacted this agency.
When asked whether we had a country we were especially interested in, I responded with a question. “Of the countries you are working with, where are the most children waiting for adoption?” India was the response. I knew Indian culture – sacred literature, music, and so on. Also, as a cross-national family sociologist, I knew something about family life and social realities in India. Our first child would be from India. In 1981, adoption wasn’t as normatively accepted within some countries as it is today, and we welcomed my infant son from his orphanage when he was just four months old. Other older children and a few infants and toddlers came on the same plane he was on.
This was the first joyful addition to my family, and many stories of my son’s lifeand times remain to be told. Adoption was our option for building our family. I happily learned all the lessons and received all the blessings of parenting – starting with pediatric visits and specialists because my son had some heart issues. I enjoyed sharing him with grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and community friends.
When he was nearly two, knowing that the process would take a while, we started another adoption through having a home study. I was offered a good position at another University. We prepared to move, but somewhat sadly. Since our home study in one state was complete, we thought we would have to wait until we arrived in our new state and start all over with another home study, wasting at least a year.
And then, the grandparents arrived to visit, arriving with a strange but very consequential request. My mother-in-law was a wise and wonderful woman. It was very unusual for her to ask to go anywhere to shop, much less request to go to a specific store. She had seen a shoe store from the highway and apparently, they were having a sale she just had to go check out! We went, of course. As she was looking for shoes, I saw a family like mine – a white mother and a little boy who seemed to be from India! They were driving from one state to another, passing through our town on the highway. Someone in her family saw that same shoe store and insisted they stop!
As Moms, we were happy to chat with each other about our international adoption experiences. I shared our dilemma: a completed home study in one state but an anticipated move to another. “That should be no problem,” she said. Their adoption from India, she said, had been through Holt International Children’s Services, an agency working with various countries to facilitate adoption. And, since they are licensed to operate in all 50 states, they could receive the home study now and complete the adoption even when we moved to another state. What a wonderful and, for us, miraculous meeting! I immediately contacted Holt, sent in our home study, proving us worthy, and the very real and joyful result was that just a bit more than a year later, my second child, a one-year-old daughter, arrived! I met her in New York and arrived too late for our connecting flight through Pittsburgh. I had a tiny baby and lacked the supplies for an overnight, but both the airline and the hotel connected to the airport made everything right. It was a lovely night, bathing the tiny girl in the sink and trying to sleep a few hours through my excitement and her uncertainty about where she had ended up! The next day, she was warmly welcomed by her big brother! We were now a family with two beautiful children from India.
Years passed. Many adventures were enjoyed. We met with other families of children adopted internationally and with multiracial families. Whether rainbow families by marriage, birth, or adoption, we had a good community. When my daughter was in kindergarten and my son in third grade, I wanted to add another child to my life. It was agreed that we would be ready for a somewhat older child. We could welcome a toddler rather than an infant, and so we were studied and approved again for an adoption through Hollt! I was just starting my sabbatical year when our second daughter arrived. She was three years old. I have found someone who spoke her dialect in case we needed help communicating with her. But we have no problems using love, gestures, and words during the first few weeks. She was amazing at how quickly she learned English, especially with the help of her older siblings.
Adoption is a way to build a family. It is not without controversy and unique challenges. Families of all variations have challenges, and we learn and grow through them all. With a child of another race, a parent becomes well aware of endemic racism but also meets many people who are eager to get to know families like mine. Sadly, just as my children reached adulthood, my husband, who had been a partner in raising these children, decided to move on to another marriage. But, in time, we all healed. My young adults learned to accept it all – even having four ‘parents’ thanks to remarriage. Life is wonderful, bringing people together in all sorts of ways – adoption, marriage, remarriage.
Postscript: My son’s story ended with his death after surviving heart issues, diabetes, testicular cancer, a doctor who failed to recognize a condition needing treatment, and subsequent kidney failure. I am quite sure he had more years of life, friends, loves, adventures, and joys in living as part of my family, even with these hardships and illnesses. My older daughter is married with a beautiful son and a wonderful husband. This grandchild of mine has seven grandparents (or maybe eight) because of the reality of remarriages. My youngest child is full of intelligence and athletic ability and is a creative and caring friend to others. She has faced various types of loss and betrayal and has grown to a strength and maturity I did not have at her age. We stand by each other, supporting and loving one another and celebrating the people we have each grown to be. None of us would be who we are without all of us. I thank God for the many ways to build a family.