Once upon a time a beautiful dark haired boy was born. He was diagnosed with Down Syndrome and quickly placed for adoption. That was on a Saturday. We never knew he existed until Tuesday and were placed together on Thursday. This boy wasn’t lost and waiting to be found. This baby thrived during those days. Nurses fell in love with him, even secretly naming him. I was told his pediatric cardiologist took a special liking to him and would come in and hold him when she had a break. People worked diligently on his behalf to find him a home. His life was moving forward.
I regularly marvel at how we came to be in his life. Hundreds of little miracles lead us to him. And we were lucky enough to be the family chosen to become part of his life. I want to make that a clear distinction. We chose to become part of his life. We bound ourselves to him. I became his mother because I changed, not because he did.
Sometimes I think adoption gets talked about as if the adoptive parents are saintly–that we come in and rescue children, saving them from terrible fates. And in some cases this might be true, but in most cases I know adoptive parents feel the opposite. These children who have allowed us to come into their lives, have blessed us even more than we could ever bless them. When people hear our story most say something like, “You are special people to have chosen this.” We always respond, “We were lucky enough to be chosen.” Because, you see, I am profoundly grateful for this little boy who has allowed me to be on his journey. His courage, kindness, persistence and example have changed me for the better more than I would have ever imagined. I feel honored to be part of that and would happily choose over and over again to belong to this amazing boy.
