Victoria's Moms

Victoria was four years old when God brought her into our family. She turned five just one week after she came to live with us permanently. For our youngest daughter, I was Mom #4.

 

Four-year-old Victoria

There is so much I could share about little Victoria. She had a wonderful smile. As far as she was concerned, everyone she met was instantly her friend. She blended into our family extremely well from the very beginning. She loved to sing and dance, and dress up like a princess. She adored her big sisters and their friends, basking in the attention they gave her. She loved our dog, Kirby, and our cat, Libby, and any other animal she ever met. She worked very hard to learn to speak in complete sentences and overcome her developmental delays.

Victoria didn't hesitate to call me Mom right away. She was used to bestowing that title on a series of caregivers. Her birth mother, step mother, and most recent foster mom came before me; her new mother-in-law is Mom #5.

Her early years had been traumatic, for a variety of reasons. Although Victoria's early records were not kept from us, her adoption was court-ordered to be a closed adoption, mainly because she became physically ill at the sight of her abusive birth dad, who wouldn't allow her to see anyone else in her family unless he was there, too.

You might think that closed adoption is a good thing, but I've learned that adopted children who maintain some contact with their birth families are often better adjusted emotionally. Although Victoria was well-cared-for in our family, even receiving weekly counseling services that were designed to help her overcome her past trauma and navigate her new life, she grieved the loss of her birth family until we were finally able to re-establish some contact, via social media, when she was in high school.

Even children who are adopted as infants are driven to know where they come from. They often want to explore their roots, and see who they look like. They want to meet their families of origin, and explore their similarities and differences because, no matter how much their adoptive families love them, and no matter how well they fit into their new families, they usually want to know the people who share their DNA.

Sometimes, they are content to "meet and greet" long lost relatives, and move on with minimal contact because they find they are more comfortable with their adoptive families. But I know some adoptees who have reconnected with their birth families, embracing each other and maintaining active family relationships with their birth families as well as their adoptive families. Others, like our son, Levi, have never lost contact with their birth families, and have been able to see birth parents and siblings occasionally, or even regularly. No matter what, when adopted kids get to know their birth families, and understand the circumstances of their adoptions, they don't need to fantasize about "what ifs;" instead, they can face the truth head on, whether good or bad, and choose for themselves whether or not they will pursue relationships with the families that gave them up for adoption.

I know that it can be hard for some adoptive parents when their children decide to search for and even meet their birth parents. I think this is especially true for those whose children were adopted as infants, with closed adoptions and sealed records. It's understandable that some parents may feel betrayed by the children they loved and raised. However, whether we like it or not, our children's birth families are a vital part of their stories. Even if we simply want to protect our kids from the pain that may come from knowing their history, I don't think it is fair to deprive them of the right to explore their beginnings.

Eleven-year-old Victoria and me, Mom #4

Sometimes, even now, when Victoria starts a sentence with the words, "Mom said," I will have to interrupt her briefly to ask "Which Mom?" Then, after she provides some clarification, she will be able to finish her narrative, and I will be able to listen with understanding. I am not jealous of her other moms. In fact, I am glad she is in contact with all of them, because each one has played an essential role in Victoria's life. For better or for worse, they are part of her story. And besides, I know that each one has loved her and cared for her the best they could. For Victoria, there is no such thing as too much motherly love.

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way, it is not irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8a NIV