You're My Second Mama, Aren't You

Laughter and Life Jackets — By N.C. Haas

// February 18th, 2012 // Early Days, Identity, Relinquishment, Support

N.C. Haas is the first of several guest bloggers I will be introducing you to during this series of blogs about secrets.

I know you will enjoy this article very much, and some of you will be reaching for a Kleenex.  This wonderful woman shared her story with me immediately after hearing about my blog and my intense interest in all aspects of the “adoption story.”

Jane

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Laughter and Life Jackets
By N. C. Haas

“Who is this?” my friend asked, pointing to the snapshot of the little boy looking back from my refrigerator door.  “Oh, he’s a child we know,” I answered, smiling.

When she had gone, I looked again at the picture and laughed.  He was such a captivating little boy, with a bright impatient look that commanded, Hurry with that camera!  I have adventures to live and treasure to find, giants to capture and pirates to hunt! Who knew what great heroic plan his imagination had concocted the day that picture was taken.  Whatever it was, he was completely prepared to accomplish it in the outrageous outfit he had rigged for himself: a baseball cap, oversized sunglasses, bedroom slippers and—last but not least—a life jacket!  How could I help but laugh?  His energy bounded from that snapshot as though it were going to vault him right off the refrigerator and into my kitchen!

I could hardly believe he was already three years old, though I remembered his beginnings as though they were yesterday.  His father and mother, Scott* and Lisa, were young and unmarried when he was conceived.  While Lisa was still making college choices, Scott was already a sophomore thinking ahead to graduate school.  Too frightened to share their “secret,” they guarded it as long as they could, groping alone for a solution, any way out of their painful predicament.  They knew as soon as their secret was told they would face the overwhelming reality of crushed dreams and agonizing decisions.  They wanted a family, but not this way.  They believed children needed the solid foundation of a strong marriage, but didn’t know if they could build one together.

They could have ended the pregnancy.  Others had.  No one would know.  It would be so simple to start again as though nothing had changed.  But, simple as it seemed, God would know.  Whatever the consequences, they chose to give their baby life.

Finally, they braced themselves for what their news might bring.  Disappointment and hurt from parents, shock and whispers from church friends—and more paralyzing questions.  How would they afford medical care when Lisa had no insurance?  How could she raise a child and return to school if she and Scott didn’t marry?  How would Scott manage the financial responsibilities of pregnancy and parenting?

They moved robotically through the next weeks.  Scott left college, unsure if he would ever return.  He found work as a waiter, while Lisa trudged from door to door looking for anyone who would hire a young pregnant girl with little experience and no degree.

Their list of options grew more complicated.  Should their parents raise the child?  Should they consider adoption?  Nothing seemed ideal.  Meanwhile they continued through their bitter sweet moments of pregnancy—the sonogram that showed they had a son, the first sounds of his heartbeat, his first rustling movements.

But, as Lisa grew larger, their deadlines pressed on them with relentless urgency.  Staggered by decisions only they could make, they pored over detailed files of hopeful adoptive couples, searching for one to whom they might entrust their child.  How could they choose?

Their parents struggled, too, smiling bravely at pictures of other people’s grandchildren, stifling tears at baby showers.  Worrying first that Scott and Lisa wouldn’t marry, then worrying they would.  Uncertain how to parent — holding too tight, and then forcing themselves to let go.  Wondering where they had failed…always asking God to be present with his love and his will.

Finally one bright summer morning, Scott and Lisa’s beautiful son was placed in their arms.  Clinging to his soft warmth, they were torn again.  But there was no time left; they had to decide.  The next days were the most painful of all.  While their parents asked God for his perfect will, Scott and Lisa struggled tearfully.

Then, bravely determining what they believed was right for their son, they dressed him, took him to a small church to dedicate him to God, then to the agency to give him to the couple they had chosen to parent him.

The terrible conflict of letting go and holding tight ripped through their hearts.  They faced months of heartache, endless moments of wondering.

Time moved them all back to life’s healing routine.  All that remained was a chapter of memories and a closet full of ongoing prayers…and occasionally a picture and letter from the agency updating Scott and Lisa.

It was an extra picture they had given me that hung now on my refrigerator and made me laugh each time I saw it.  It was much too small to contain this three-year-old package of comical energy bursting with so much busy excitement.  He really did look as though, at any moment, he would leap right into my morning, scoop me into his adventure, and dare me to keep up.

Oh yes, I laughed back at his eager face, how I would love it if you did!  I would catch you up in my arms and twirl you around and around—life jacket, baseball cap, sunglasses, and all!  We would spin and laugh together—at the giants you had conquered and the pirates you had caught.  We would spin, spin, and laugh again—at the fading memory of the pain that birthed you, at the wonder of the world before you.  We would laugh until we cried in raucous celebration of your life.

And when we had spun ourselves dizzy, I would put you down, kneel in front of you and tell you this:

“Right now you can’t see, but God has built bigger plans into your heart and promises into your soul than you can ever imagine.  Your life is his, and your greatest adventure will be to discover him and go with him to find his plans and purposes for you.  They are exciting plans, I promise, full of wonderful hope and purpose.  Go and capture them.  Go and live them.  And don’t forget your life jacket—Nathaniel, my first grandchild.”

*The names have been changed.