All The Difference in the World

Last week we got an email from the office manager at our adoption agency - she had discovered a video of Adil (Owen) from August 2006 (he was about a month old) that they had never sent us. Did we want it?

Of course we did! One reality of being an adoptive parent is not having many pictures or stories to fill in the blanks before meeting your child. So we were thrilled to receive the tape.

We recognized him the minute his sweet little face appears on the screen - big eyes, little grin. I'd know him anywhere. And it's not just his looks; while you can hear other babies in the background crying, Owen is serene and interested in looking at the camera and the caregiver holding him. That's our "calm gentleman"!

Shortly after I watched the tape, I found this cartoon on another adoptive mom's blog. I hope I don't offend anyone, but it made me smile. To understand that, you probably have to know this:

Before Owen, I went to countless baby showers where I'd ooh and aah over lilliputian outfits and cuddly teddy bears, and enthusiastically try to make out baby parts in those fuzzy ultrasound pictures. And when I couldn't take it anymore I'd duck into the bathroom to quietly cry.

Before Owen, I got calls from family and friends with their pregnancy news - I celebrated with them or tried to console them - and then I'd hang up and sob with jealousy and loss.

Before Owen, I hated the baby section of Target and didn't dare set foot in a Babies R Us.

Before Owen, I endured invasive and uncomfortable procedures, and daily shots and blood draws that reminded me all too much of my chemo days.

Before Owen, I blamed myself and thought I was defective.

Before Owen, I wondered if I'd ever have a child; if for some reason God didn't want that for me.

Before Owen, I questioned if I'd be a good enough mom to a child that wasn't my blood; I sometimes doubted it could all work out.

And then ... there was Owen.

Since the moment we met him, every single tear of unhappiness, every doubt, every painful memory has disappeared. I'm no longer envious or sad. I can't imagine any other child or any other way. Now I even feel fortunate that I had Before Owen to help me appreciate how miraculous our journey to him has been.

Adoption isn't for everyone, and I completely understand (and respect) that some women have a powerful urge to experience pregnancy/childbirth; some men need to pass along their genes. There are many reasons to want to have a family and of course there is nothing wrong or lesser about wanting to have children the "old fashioned way".

But to anyone struggling with infertility - and hiding out in the bathroom crying - I wish I could tell them that there is a way out of the darkness. The light of your life might be waiting right now in a crib halfway around the globe. And I can promise that you will never regret going to find that light. Because it makes all the difference in the world.