Am I pro-Adoption?

I’m not sure. 

I’m really not sure any more. 

It used to be a definite and resounding “Yes!” Adoption – a way of mending what’s been broken, of bringing life and security. A means by which a child can be restored and healed and can start to thrive. A way of sharing the love and safety and wellbeing you have to give. 

But, also: Adoption – a way of tearing apart, of bringing heartache and pain and grief and depression. A way of perpetuating cycles and removing people’s reasons to live and try. For some, actually for lots, adoption is bleak and dark and heartbreaking. 

Sometimes, like when we’re writing our contact letters to birth parents, I choke up about how something that has brought me such joy can also bring someone else such pain. Our adoption of Bounce will never be purely good, it isn’t possible. Adoption can never be a resounding “Yes!” because by its very nature it has sprung from a place of darkness and struggle. It is bittersweet. 

As a Christian I can’t help but think of biblical parallels. God is our heavenly Father. Adoption speaks of the Father heart of God. It is a beautiful image of how God takes our broken, far-from-him, far-from-right lives and nurtures us back to life. It’s about redemption, which I strongly believe God is in the business of – he takes those things that are spoilt, rubbish and lost and somehow, graciously, brings good out of them. He turns water into wine. 

But that imagery isn’t quite all it seems to be. In reality, adoption isn’t beautiful for everyone. Yes I am pleased (not quite the right word) to be able to help Bounce thrive, to show him safety and love and provision in all the right ways, but it’s sad that this has to happen. It isn’t right and it isn’t triumphant. Where God’s adoption of us sings of victory and overcoming, our adoption of Bounce…whispers quietly of loss, regret, pain, hope and love. 

I suppose what I am trying to say is that adoption, in an ideal world, wouldn’t exist. Obviously. But sadly, there is a need. I am glad not to be in a position of making decisions about removing children (removing – how could there not be pain when it’s a word like that?). I am glad, too, to be in a position where we can offer a home, safety, love, provision, and a family to a child who otherwise would be missing out on those things. It’s such a strange conflict in me: I want a baby, I can’t conceive a baby; I want a baby, I’ll adopt a baby. Does this mean I’m glad that Bounce needed adopting? Does this mean I’m currently waiting, subconsciously, for a mother and baby to be forced apart? Does this mean I’m eager for a mum somewhere to not quite reach the grade?

A while back, I read on Twitter a good line: Adoption is important and sad. I totally agree and I often come back to that in my mind. But on reflection I think I would add a note of more hopefulness than that. A slight thawing, like a snowdrop on a sunny day in early February. Adoption speaks of joy, it hints at something good. It’s birthed in pain and heartache, on both sides, but it speaks – just quietly - of longing fulfilled, of the gift of life – good, healthy, protected life, of second chances, of family, and of a chance for something wonderful to happen.