“Not flesh of my flesh, nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own.
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn’t grow under my heart – but in it.”
— Fleur Conkling Heylinger
November is the month we celebrate National Memoir Month along with National Adoption Month. This post is a story of both memoir and adoption. Come along as this “slice of my life” memoir gives you a glimpse into when my husband and I embarked on our journey to parenthood over three decades ago.
As a little girl I changed my doll, Baby Tears, diapers and dreamed of having a real baby of my own some day. I never could have imagined how our quest to have a family led to so many unanswered questions.
The why (unexplained infertility) was replaced with how (adoption interviews and reams of paperwork). We were advised it could take some time to find the best placement for us. I choose to spend the time getting my college degree while waiting for our child. We were introduced to our who, a 6-week-old bundle of joy with sparkling blue eyes and blond fuzz the same year I graduated from college.
I believe we are matched, parents and children, with who is destined to become our family. True, social workers had more to do with our “match” than DNA when it came to the agency’s process of creating our family. My daughter and I have a mole in the exact same spot on our left arms, a fact that has always been Spirit’s kiss and proof to me of our special bond. Spooky coincidence? No, serendipity I think.
Whether you argue Nature vs. Nurture, or grace, gratitude and gumption in generous proportions determines the love, compassion and empathy necessary to create a strong family bond. I’m forever grateful that we have been given the opportunity to become a family.
Family holds our hearts and helps us cope with whatever comes tomorrow.
May you and yours enjoy a blessed holiday season.