Some of those relationships I won't talk about here, at least not right now. But I do want to talk about one. It's the one I dreaded, actually, because I thought that if this relationship ever presented itself we would be faced with a big, hard choice. I was dreading that, dreading the moment we got the phone call that Z had another baby, and was looking to place her child again.
Except we never got that call. Someone else did.
|Baby Boy M.|
The agency refused to put us in contact with Baby M's parents for the first few months we knew about him. I think they knew that I wasn't happy, and they were waiting for his adoption to be finalized. But then they relented, and did, and his mom friended me on facebook and on every rational level and many emotional levels things are great. His parents want him to know his sisters, and we want him to know his sisters, and they have a big family that adores this little boy, and we have the family we always wanted. He is safe, cherished, and so very loved. They don't live close, so the kids knowing each other won't be super easy, but we are all going to try.
|J with me, at about the same age.|
I can hold both these things together. It hurts, and it is the best way in the world that we actually have, in the world that actually exists. I called baby M's mom, Stacy, several days after we connected on facebook, and we talked for over an hour. She is a good person who also seems to have her eyes wide open going into adoption. Stacy and her husband are experienced parents, and they obviously delight in M and care about connecting him to his sisters and finding real ways to connect him to people who share his race and culture. (And she gave me permission to blog about this, even!) I am grateful for her, for the love and care we share for our children.
Someday, hopefully not too far away, I'll see these three children together, even if it's just visits now and then. And M will have his sisters as resources as he grows into his identity as a black transracial adoptee, and that's something real and hopeful for all three of them. M will grow up, and look more and more like his own little person, a dear sweet boy who is my children's brother and someone else's son. I can picture this hopeful future, and so can M's mama, and I think we are carefully, kindly, gently moving together in that direction.