Finding the Words

We've adopted four children from four different situations. Some lived with their birth parents, some were neglected or worse, some had developed relationships with birth family members, some were bounced from place to place before landing here, all have been traumatized.

We are at the point of considering adoption number five - and we couldn't be more blessed. This adoption situation is as different as all the others, but equally as heart-breaking. This child is going to have any bonds - regardless how minimal and frayed - with the birth family severed.

This child is not aware of how close we are to adoption; and yet what a long journey it will be to get there. This child has watched other children come into our family and leave to be reunified with birth family or move into a forever adoptive family; as well as witnessed the most recent adoption of our son within our own family.

What words do I use? How do I explain that birth mother loves her child, that she loved the best she could - and I do believe that - when it is evident that support from family and community were lacking as well as birth mom's ability to access those supports. But birth mom has been out of the picture - no visits, no contact with case workers, no contact with her child - for the past nine months. Nine months...

What words do I use to communicate that birth mom's choices do not negate the worth of this child? That the hugeness of her silence in her child's life does not overshadow the determination and resilience of her child. How do I reassure this child that even though birth mom is absent in presence, she will never forget her child, her baby.

What words are there for me to appropriately express my frustration toward this birth mother? The hope against hope that she will suddenly "get it" and pick up the phone and call someone, ANYONE and step up and back into her child's life. Or the words of relief that maybe now that it's been nine months this is it, the end is in sight, no more popping in and out and making half-way efforts - enough to keep the court satisfied to give her "one more chance" or "a little more time."

Words are weighty and irreversible. They hurt and heal; weapons and balm. For this child, my child, who has already borne the brunt of unspoken words, the words that I speak need to be the right ones at the right time with the right intention. I feel the weightiness and the burden, as well as the healing and joy that those words might bring.