Adoption Day

My 16 year old daughter reminded me yesterday that today was the anniversary of the day we met what became her little sister.

If my ‘enemies’ do a search for keywords, they’ll find me. But I’m hoping they aren’t that desperate to hunt me down, so here’s a photo of the day we became a family of five.

Here’s how the process unfolded.

I looked up adoption in our country, and found a group on Facebook. Through them, I found that going private is faster than government, though more expensive. I’d wanted to adopt since I was ten years old, and I was more 33, I definitely didn’t want to wait too long! Mothers who used the private social workers we ended up going with spoke of 9 month wait after the screening process was done, of a year waiting, before the call telling them a baby was waiting for them.

Screening was first a set of forms asking us about our expenses vs income, why we wanted to adopt, preferences (HIV positive? Gender? Health problems? Premature? Age? Race?) This being Africa, obviously Black babies are everywhere, with Coloured being the next highest….We had to supply three references to attest to our suitability. Much easier when they’ve already seen you parenting. And we had to undergo physical and psychological testing plus an AIDS test. We had to prove we weren’t criminals and not on the National Child Sex Offenders List. I wish it was this difficultly for everyone to become a parent!

The physical. Some cancer patients have been denied. And if you’re HIV positive they want to know who your support group is and if you’re taking meds and staying healthy. The psych stuff was firstly to see how mentally stable we were, and then individual interviews along each of us what we thought of the other as a parent. The psychologist said she got teary at my husband’s answer. “She’s the mother I wish I had had as a child.”

We had to attend a group session. That was the worst! A whole day of’ nothing.’ We were the only ones there who were not infertile. And the only ones who were Black. The information was geared at explaining to the child why you’re not the same race as they are, explaining infertility and why the child was adopted, and where to find tips on doing Black hair. Also, parenting fears. It all didn’t apply to us, and I didn’t have any fears. It was so boring.

The screening process took about four months. We then attended the final meeting, and knew that thereafter, we’d then wait for the call telling us we’d been matched. I had visions of carrying my phone everywhere, of answering while on the loo. Of the excitement of knowing the wait was over.

Little did we know that at that final meeting, we’d instead be asked to choose from two available babies. See, all the parents who had shared their ‘waiting for The Call’ experiences were different races to the children. But because we are Black, and government prefers children to stick to their culture, there was no wait d or us. It was automatic. And given there were around 500 000 adorable children in the system and only 1000 adoptions per year, there would ever be children waiting for families. 😭

We left that meeting knowing we’d met our baby girl in 14 days’ time! It was horrible! I wanted her NOW! We had seen her photo and I was smitten. When you have a face in mind, it’s more real. (We saw the photo after we chose. I wouldn’t have minded taking both babies but they didn’t allow that. (You had to only adopt one unless it was siblings. And we had to wait nine months to adopt again.🙄)

We met our baby girl and her foster mother. And get birth mother and birth father, who’d both wanted to meet us. Oh, we also had to state if we wanted semi open adoption (Sending letters and photos via the social workers) or closed. Don’t ask me why not open, given open adoption is legal. (I ended up opening it. That’s the subject of another blog post!) They too had wanted semi open. And I bet if they’d been given the choice for open, they’d have taken it.

They hasn’t seen the baby since they relinquished her at the hospital, telling the nurses they couldn’t raise her. It was emotional for the birth mom. My vista went to meet the baby while she was being dressed up, and her birth mom was also there, seeing her for the first time since giving birth. She was three months old.

Later, after I covertly opened the adoption, I asked birth mom why she didn’t rather put her in foster care while hoping her situation would improve, so she could parent one day. She said she hadn’t wanted to rip her child from the only family she’d have known. Wow! That’s love.

She had not known that the baby would be put in a children’s home when she first got the ball rolling. And like us, she would have preferred it if the baby had come straight to us from hospital instead of waiting three months. (Legally, there is a 60 day period in which the birth parent can change their mind. It is preferred that the baby not go directly to the adoptive parent during this time. So it’s minimum 2 months period of waiting in foster care. The waiting period becomes longer depending on health tests and finding the birth father. There’s a 90 day waiting period while the ad runs in the paper.)

Finally, the moment came. Birth parents came in first and gave us background. Hectic stuff. Our girl went through a lot before birth. Then at last, foster mom brought her in. Birth mom took her and placed her in my arms. “Here is your mommy,” She told her. I got goosebumps.

It was awkward. I was so happy, but how do you act happy about something so sad?? I felt insensitive. As she said, she “loved her” And that’s why she didn’t “Just dump her in the sewer or field or bin” like so many others have done. She had first tried to ensure she didn’t have to be born but those attempts failed a few times. Had tied her belly flat as she didn’t want people to know she was pregnant, and had told her family (extended family as she was an orphan, her daughter being raised by an aunt) she’d had a miscarriage.

But in the only letter the social workers bothered to pass on to us, she mentioned how it gave her peace to us looking forward to being parents to the baby. She had thought that Black people didn’t adopt and that they definitely couldn’t love adoptees like the White adoptive families she saw on TV. Meeting us gave her peace. Her daughter is loved❤️

We went to Family Court and started the formal adoption process. The adoption order came about a year later, and the birth certificate took another year. Before the adoption order, we were legally her foster parents only. That document’a arrival was our crowning moment. “You are hereby ordered to give her your surname, and to treat her as you would your biological child,” It said, in essence. Yes sir!