The other night, apropos nothing in particular, the boy said to me, “Dad, you should just go back to the adoption center where you adopted me and adopt a baby from there.” I told him it wasn’t as simple as that. The boy asked, “Why?”
And I said, International adoption has changed a lot since we adopted you, and many countries won’t let Americans adopt overseas anymore, so we’re adopting a baby from here instead. And the boy said, “Then I’m really lucky that you and daddy adopted me when you could.” And I said, No, we’re the lucky ones.
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On the train ride home, after a long, busy day of work, I spied this advert for a fertility clinic in the suburbs. The message was ostensibly a love letter written by a woman to her future self, thankful for having the foresight and wherewithal to save her eggs so that she could have a baby when she was ready. I’ve seen this ad before, and I dunno why, but it always gives me pangs of sadness and something that feels a bit like guilt.
I guess it’s different for men, since we can pretty much make babies as long as our equipment continues to operate properly, but for those of us who can’t (or don’t want to) make our own kids and choose adoption instead, it still delivers a punch to the gut. I suppose if I was thinking more deliberately about things, I would’ve maybe made a more concerted effort to put the (second) adoption wheels in motion sooner than we did, but honestly, I was pretty sure that we were done with having just the boy. Because my son is awesome and spectacular in every way. Why would I want or need another kid?
But family planning isn’t just the decision of parents when there’s another kid involved. Since we decided to pursue adopting a second kid, our son has been just as invested and excited about the prospect of adding another person to our happy little family. And with each disappointment, the boy is just as devastated (maybe more) than we are.
We don’t talk much in our house about the pursuit our second adoption, but the specter of baby sisters lost and the anxiety of waiting for the next (and hopefully final) placement lingers. My son is smart enough and savvy enough to know what’s going on, even when there’s no conversation about it, yet I’m still always caught off-guard when he brings up the adoption of his future baby brother or sister, like he did the other day.
Because even though we don’t talk about it, I am reminded that the subject is still always on his mind. I wish I could talk to him (and to busy daddy) more often about the a-word, but it’s a bit like rubbing salt on a wound, so we keep our thoughts on the subject to ourselves.
The other day at school, one of the boy’s classmate’s mother was trying to wrangle a rambunctious younger brother, who refused to sit in his stroller. As the boy’s nanny and the boy were approaching the baby, the baby’s mother jokingly said out loud, “Who wants a new baby brother?” And the boy sheepishly said, “Me.”
The notion that we can give ourselves the gift of time by planning ahead for what we want in some seemingly distant future is romantic, but I don’t know how realistic it is. I don’t know many people who can say unequivocally that they were “ready” when they became parents, especially the first time around.
It’s just weird to really be ready and still not know when or if it will actually ever happen again.

The other night, apropos nothing in particular, the boy said to me, “Dad, you should just go back to the adoption center where you adopted me and adopt a baby from there.” I told him it wasn’t as simple as that. The boy asked, “Why?”

And I said, International adoption has changed a lot since we adopted you, and many countries won’t let Americans adopt overseas anymore, so we’re adopting a baby from here instead. And the boy said, “Then I’m really lucky that you and daddy adopted me when you could.” And I said, No, we’re the lucky ones.

On the train ride home, after a long, busy day of work, I spied this advert for a fertility clinic in the suburbs. The message was ostensibly a love letter written by a woman to her future self, thankful for having the foresight and wherewithal to save her eggs so that she could have a baby when she was ready. I’ve seen this ad before, and I dunno why, but it always gives me pangs of sadness and something that feels a bit like guilt.

I guess it’s different for men, since we can pretty much make babies as long as our equipment continues to operate properly, but for those of us who can’t (or don’t want to) make our own kids and choose adoption instead, it still delivers a punch to the gut. I suppose if I was thinking more deliberately about things, I would’ve maybe made a more concerted effort to put the (second) adoption wheels in motion sooner than we did, but honestly, I was pretty sure that we were done with having just the boy. Because my son is awesome and spectacular in every way. Why would I want or need another kid?

But family planning isn’t just the decision of parents when there’s another kid involved. Since we decided to pursue adopting a second kid, our son has been just as invested and excited about the prospect of adding another person to our happy little family. And with each disappointment, the boy is just as devastated (maybe more) than we are.

We don’t talk much in our house about the pursuit our second adoption, but the specter of baby sisters lost and the anxiety of waiting for the next (and hopefully final) placement lingers. My son is smart enough and savvy enough to know what’s going on, even when there’s no conversation about it, yet I’m still always caught off-guard when he brings up the adoption of his future baby brother or sister, like he did the other day.

Because even though we don’t talk about it, I am reminded that the subject is still always on his mind. I wish I could talk to him (and to busy daddy) more often about the a-word, but it’s a bit like rubbing salt on a wound, so we keep our thoughts on the subject to ourselves.

The other day at school, one of the boy’s classmate’s mother was trying to wrangle a rambunctious younger brother, who refused to sit in his stroller. As the boy’s nanny and the boy were approaching the baby, the baby’s mother jokingly said out loud, “Who wants a new baby brother?” And the boy sheepishly said, “Me.”

The notion that we can give ourselves the gift of time by planning ahead for what we want in some seemingly distant future is romantic, but I don’t know how realistic it is. I don’t know many people who can say unequivocally that they were “ready” when they became parents, especially the first time around.

It’s just weird to really be ready and still not know when or if it will actually ever happen again.

  1. kateycake reblogged this from lazydad
  2. asimpledad said: I hope for you guys all the time. I am exited for that blog post one say when it happens.
  3. wineredhush said: Hi the boy! my parents wanted kids after 1974 but couldn’t. they waited 8 years before I came along. it’s a tough process but I like to think that both my brothers have the BEST sister in the world ;) much love xoxo
  4. imfeelingrandy said: I’m hopeful everything works out to your design. Your boy is lucky as are you—that gift is bidirectional. :)
  5. southey said: I have a 3 year old and 18 month old boy and while I know that a third child would literally ruin us like chapter 13 bankruptcy me and leave us living in my mother in laws attic, I still long for another one because when you love them they aren’t finite.
  6. tacosaysroar said: Beautifully said. I hope it happens for you soon. Someone deserves the chance to be so loved.
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