Journal Entry

Adoption stories: The best part of our adoption experience

An untraditional adoption with a very happy ending

Life was good for Ben and Hattie. They were the proud parents of five children, two grown and married, one engaged and two at home. Celebrating the birth of their first grandson a year earlier had truly pleased these lower-middle-income parents getting through life the best way they knew how. Ben was a brick and stone mason, very talented with his hands, a man who labored every day to provide for his large brood. Hattie was the ideal wife and mother. She ran the home front with both an iron fist and a loving heart.
These partners in life could not want for anything. Then one day, while shopping at the local druggist with her very pregnant daughter, Hattie ran into a woman she knew in passing. This woman was considered “white trash” by many in the small community and Hattie, who did not use such terms, was kindly to her. The woman also was very pregnant, and Hattie made a light-hearted comment upon her situation. “Lordy, Viv, you’re pregnant again? How many does this make for you and Art? Seven?” After a downcast response from Viv, Hattie replied, “If it’s a girl, I’ll take her for ya.”
Now, anybody and I do mean anybody, would have read no more into that comment than that it was joking banter between two women who knew one another enough to speak to but did not run in the same circles. As a matter of fact, Hattie and her grown daughter really did not give the exchange much more thought at all other than to comment on the poor woman’s home life. It was widely known that Art was an abusive husband, both to his wife and his children. Good people had been waylaid in their attempts to intervene in the past and were twice shy to do so again.
Then, three days after Thanksgiving day of that same year, Viv and Art made a visit upon Hattie while she was home alone taking care of the washing and ironing for her family. She was indeed very surprised by the visit, as short-lived as it was. For Viv did not want to enter the humble home of this seemingly happy family. She just stood on the stoop and with downcast eyes, reached out with her burden, proffering it to Hattie with these words:
“You said if it was a girl you wanted it. Here she is.” And after Hattie had taken the proffered bundle, Viv turned around and got into her husband’s waiting car and they pulled out of the drive.
Was Hattie in shock over this episode on a normal post-holiday day? Yes, she certainly was. It wasn’t until the baby made a gurgling noise that she realized she was indeed holding a beautiful baby girl. Amazement was the least of her feelings. Awe. Heart-warming adoration over the small baby, the baby that seemed to be in her sole care so suddenly that there was no time for a proper reaction.
Hattie finally stepped back and closed the door on that cold November day, and with tears in her eyes, looked around the room for a place to lay the baby until she had time to get her thoughts in order.
Amazing story isn’t it? This is how my life began as an adopted child. It didn’t happen over night and it didn’t come easily, but this family now had a new little sister and daughter to call their own. A child who was not sought after or wanted in their hearts until it was much too late for them. Once holding me in their arms and looking into my young, baby face, their hearts wanted nothing else but to care for me and love me as their very own.
The adoption took many years. I was five years old when it became legal. It was a hard-won fight for my Mother and Father, for the biological parents in this story, as often they do in others, had second thoughts. Not out of love or devotion but out of greed. Another mouth to feed would cause them no end of grief but it would also mean more food stamps, more charity coming their way. The fight was won by the righteous, however, and I for one could not be happier!
My adoption is a story that is fun to tell. I myself didn’t get to hear it until I was seventeen years old. I never knew I was adopted until then. That was the year my biological father found me and contacted me. That is another story, however.
Do I feel different from my other siblings? Sure, a bit, but not because I was ever treated any differently. For one thing, I was probably treated somewhat better! They knew this too and it caused hurt feelings that as a small child I could not have been aware of. It wasn’t until my father passed away that I examined our lives and came to this realization about myself and my family. As the adopted child of older parents with grandchildren already a part of their lives, I was treated differently, but that was because my parents were different from the parents who had raised their five other children. They were older, wiser and a bit more tired.
As an adopted adult, I cannot help but feel so very lucky. I always tell people that I wasn’t born, I was chosen . This is how I truly feel, too.