Step 12: The birth of a pearl

  A few weeks ago, Angry Driver told me that he was planning to go to the local public library, and he asked if I wanted him to check out any particular books. I asked him to bring me some "adoption books". With that vague instruction, Angry Driver returned home with several non-fiction books on adoption. Currently, I'm reading one of them: 20 Things Adoptive Parents Need to Succeed by Sherrie Eldridge.

  Eldridge herself was adopted as an infant and she shares many valuable insights from the perspective of an adoptee. This has been a thought-provoking read for me thus far.

  Throughout the adoption process it has been a bit tempting for me to think of our little Pearl as a treasure who will spring fully-formed from the orphanage as soon as we travel to China to retrieve her. However, Pearl is Pearl because of the experiences she has had and the life she has lived thus far. Each and every moment she shared with her birth mother (and perhaps other biological family members), hospital caregivers, orphanage nannies, other children, and hospital staff has contributed another layer to who Pearl is and who she will always be, just as a literal pearl is a pearl because of the layering of nacre over time. Each pearl is a unique masterpiece because of its particular oyster and its individual formation process.

  It would be less complicated for me to place Pearl into a fancy new setting (perhaps a ring? or a nice necklace?) and tell her story as, "This is my daughter who was meant to be my daughter, just as I was meant to be her mother."

  But that is not Pearl's story, just as a natural pearl does not form in the prongs of a ring or in the stringing of a necklace. And this isn't about me: this is about Pearl. This is about Pearl, whose core formed thousands of miles away with people she may never meet. This is about Pearl, who has had no voice thus far in her own formation process, as layer after layer of nacre forms around that core. She has a genetic history and a birth history. I don't know much about that history and we may never know enough to satisfy Pearl's curiosity but it is still a part of her story. She has a medical history and an orphanage history and a foster home history. She will have a forever family history with us that is yet to be written, and her perspective on the events that are about to unfold will be her own. I will be her forever mother and I will add layers to her life story, but I can no more lay claim to the title of her only mother than a jeweler can boast of creating a pearl by setting it into a piece of wearable art. What kind of mother would I be to her if I can't honor her unique formation process and celebrate who she is now and who she will become?

  Adding a child to our family through adoption has been an awesome process so far - and the adoption process is only just beginning, even though it feels like we have been trapped in the conceptualization stage forever. What layers are yet to be added? What will Bean and Pearl look like when they are grown? When we as parents are only memories to them?

  Recently, I heard a story from a man who told me of his three children: one adopted, one biological, and one a foster child. All three are young adults now, venturing out into the world. The man told me that one of his children is gliding easily through life and he has few worries about that child's prospects for the future. One other of the children is struggling - struggling with addiction, with mental illness, with the consequences of poor decisions. The father told me that he aches to see this child suffer. He has done everything he can to protect and nurture the struggling child but he is beginning to realize that the parent who cleared the way ahead for an unsteady toddler is not capable of removing obstacles from the path of a wildly careening young adult. He worries for this child and prays for this child, but he knows that there is little else he can do at this point. The third child is at the cusp of adulthood and the father knows that the road ahead is uncertain. He sees this youngest child torn in several directions and he worries that the child will choose a path of heartache and chaos, despite the firm foundation of love and support the family provided.

  This was a compelling story to hear and I found myself wondering, which is the foster child? Which is the biological child? Is the "easy" child the adopted child, or is it the one who is struggling with mental illness and drugs? I nearly asked the father and then it occurred to me: it doesn't matter. This man sees all three children as his children. They are all his children and he is the father to all of them. He has three pearls and he has embraced each of their stories and incorporated them into a family story.

  He is "all in", as they say.

  And, you know what? So am I.