Waiting to adopt can be a long and emotional process. At times it may feel isolating for families who do not know anyone else who has been in their shoes before. Sometimes the best support can be hearing that another person has gone through something similar. ACFB recognizes the benefits of this type of support, which is why we love to share client stories. Last month, we shared words from Elaine, a single mother who adopted her daughter through ACFB. Click here to read that post. Today on the blog, Gretchen, another ACFB adoptive mother, shares the story of their journey to adoption, the difficult years of waiting, and the joy of welcoming their son Tucker one year ago.

“About one year ago my life changed forever with our son Tucker coming into our lives. In order to understand our story, I have to back up a few years before that. I’ll start with this, the easiest part of the adoption process was knowing that my husband and I wanted to adopt, and the hardest part was the excruciating wait of almost three years. We had no idea how this experience would change us as a couple, making us stronger than ever as we grew along with the tremendous ups and downs of the entire process.

We quickly chose the Adoption Center for Family Building after hearing from a friend what a great experience she had using them. There are a few reasons why we knew that our wait would probably take longer than most. First, we had a preference of a Caucasian baby, for personal reasons. Second, COVID arrived and made birth rates even lower in our country for quite a long time. Third, I have struggled with alcoholism in the past but have been sober for thirteen years now. Even though I only drank for a small amount of time, quit quickly, and have stayed sober for these thirteen years; unfortunately, I know the stigma that still exists about alcoholics. On top of that, I have mental health issues, but by using medication and therapy techniques I have learned how to not only manage my mental health struggles but to thrive in life. To be honest, I didn’t even know if we could adopt with my personal history. Many people told me that since it was so far in my past, I shouldn’t even tell the agency, but I knew that was wrong. My husband and I shouldn’t have to hide who I am. Even though it was in the past, it is still a part of me. In my opinion, what I have been through makes me strong, but I still was so afraid that we would be turned away right from the start. I felt like I had two huge strikes against me, but I was wrong. The Adoption Center for Family Building reassured me that they were completely understanding about these types of things and told me that as long as I completed some extra paperwork, we would be welcomed there. Although this made me feel a million times better, I still always thought that we would never get picked by a birthmother. Logically it just didn’t make sense. Who would choose a mother for her child with a past like mine when she has the choice of so many other amazing mothers who don’t have any issues like that at all? Although, in my head, if we did get chosen one day, I imagined we would be matched up way ahead of time and stay in contact afterward. I had a perfect vision of how things would go…

So, we completed our paperwork and all of the trainings, but after that I felt lost. To keep myself grounded I knew that I needed to be doing something. My husband, Mark, on the other hand was completely content and knew that if it happened, it would happen when it was meant to happen. I couldn’t quite accept that, so I began nesting right away. Something told me deep down that we should have our nursery ready, so we changed our office into a nursery. We painted gray walls and bought a crib, dresser, and glider. Mark built bookshelves and closet shelves from scratch. I would go through times where I would keep the door open and walk past the nursery daily, and then periods of time where I needed the door closed because I felt defeated. I bought the essentials: some bottles, gender neutral pajamas, swaddles, burp cloths, a car seat etc. Then a swing, highchair, and exersaucer from garage sales as time went on and stored them in our storage unit downstairs. I packed a diaper bag with general items just in case. I bought a few adorable gender-neutral outfits to bring to the hospital. I wrote a list on my phone of what Mark and I should pack for ourselves in case we just randomly got the call to go. I made my baby registry online and kept it private so that one day I could just switch it over to public. I researched pediatricians, called my insurance company, and picked out a doctor that I prayed would one day be mine. I read adoption books, subscribed to an online adoption magazine, and joined Facebook adoption groups so that I finally didn’t feel so alone anymore. I collected children’s books about adoption and would dream of reading them to my child. Every single day I felt like a piece of our family was missing, and I hoped that one day our puzzle would be completed. The longer it was taking, the harder it was for me to keep faith that it would happen. I talked to my therapist who helped me work on acceptance and encouraged me to do everything that I would want to do alone with Mark while I had the time. We kayaked Pictured Rocks in Michigan, went on vacations, and did all sorts of fun things, but that’s not what I wanted to be doing. People would tell me how lucky we were to be able to spend so much time together without kids, but they didn’t understand. I was done with couple time, I wanted family time. I wanted to get snuggles and hear giggles coming from the other room. I wanted to be up all night with a crying baby. I wanted to be covered in drool. I wanted my home to look like a mess. I was ready for everything that came with having a child, the good and bad. I called my family and friends when I needed to talk, reached out to people that I knew who adopted, and even though I am not very religious, I prayed. I would sit in the nursery and pray next to the crib.

Along the way I was constantly asked by people about our adoption. I didn’t mind explaining the process but in terms of if we have heard any news I wish now that I would have just told people that if I heard anything new, then I would tell them. It was very hard to have it brought up so much. I was already having a hard time knowing that I would never carry my own child, I would never get to be big and pregnant, or breastfeed. I had fears of not connecting with our child because of these things. The constant questions and reminders from people asking why we haven’t heard anything or how much longer will it be were very difficult.

This process is not for the weak. There were many times that I cried to Mark and told him that I wanted to give up. There was just no point in continuing. He was there for me every single time. Reassuring me that we have to push on. Telling me that someone will see the me that I am today and not judge me for my past. He would remind me that I am a bilingual educator for over a decade and I am amazing with children. He would tell me that our baby is out there. It just isn’t time yet. He would hold me and just let me cry. He could always make me feel better.

Honestly, we had a couple of close calls, one where we literally had a car seat in the car, and another where a birthmother chose us and then when she found out about my past, she changed her mind, which was my worst nightmare. If it ever were to happen, I wanted someone who thought that my years of sobriety were a positive thing. That I am strong for having depression, anxiety, and alcohol issues and came out on the other side. I have fought to stay sober and healthy, and it has taken a lot of work to get to this point in my life. All of my years of AA meetings and continuing therapy have been for this exact reason, so that one day I could be the mother that I’ve always dreamed of being since I was young. The mother who is present, reliable, fun, loving, and caring. The one who gives her all every single day to her child, because for thirteen years she has fought for this exact point in time to come, to be able to say that her persistence has paid off in all the ways she dreamed of.

Moving on to our happy ending…it is crazy to think that a year ago I was waiting for Mark to come home with our pizza for dinner on Friday night of Labor Day weekend when I received THE call. I knew the agency wouldn’t just be calling on a Friday night of a holiday weekend for nothing. I knew this was something big. As shock set in, I remember trying to focus on the important things I was told on the phone, “leave as soon as you can…it’s a boy…he’s in the NICU in Springfield…all we know is that he is stable…” I remember asking, “Is this really it this time?” and she said “Yes, this is it!” And as Mark likes to tell the story, he went out to pick up a pizza and came home a dad! I remember throwing things in a bag, using that list that I had on my phone as a guide since my mind was blurry. Grabbing that diaper bag that I had packed years ago and almost leaving without the most important thing, the car seat! We had no idea how long we would be at the hospital for, where we would stay, what this baby’s situation was at all. As Mark drove for hours that night it was like my heart was already reaching out for this baby. The closer we got, the stronger I felt it in my heart, this intense feeling that I was this little boy’s mother. He needed me and I needed him. We stayed alone the whole time that weekend in the hospital without family, friends, or loved ones. We called immediate family members but it’s not the same as having people physically with you. It was horrifying to go through something like that without anyone but each other, but I’ll tell you what, it made us stronger as a couple. We had to lean on each other in ways that we never had to before. Once we got there, we found out that the birthmother chose us without knowing my past and I thought that’s it, we’re going back home. Instead, she said that she knew that she chose us for a reason. She said that she felt it through her whole body that we were the right ones.

I will never forget meeting Tucker’s birth mother and the intimate conversation that we had. How much love she has for him, how selfless she was. How she was sure that we were his parents, after only just reading about us. How she told us she didn’t even need to read the other profiles after us because she just knew we were the ones. How we cried together. How she told me she didn’t want to see him after he was born because she wanted his mother, me, to see him first. How she had to drive herself in labor alone to the hospital since she kept the pregnancy a secret, and how brave she was to call the adoption agency while she was driving. How she had to fly in a helicopter to get to this hospital with a NICU. When I asked her how she chose our agency, she said when she googled adoption agencies it was the first one that came up. It’s mind boggling. I remember her telling me that she can’t be a good mother right now with what is going on in her life and saying how bad she feels, and how that’s horrible to say, and me telling her that she is an amazing mother for doing what she is doing. That what she is doing is putting him first. You see, she had been struggling with addiction herself. I told her that I have been in her shoes, addiction is addiction, and it doesn’t make her a bad person. I told her that I understand where she is at in her life. I’ve been there. I told her that he will be so incredibly loved every single day and she will never be forgotten. More conversation, and more tears shed between all of us.

Then we saw him for the first time. This tiny little baby looking like he needed us so badly and holy cow, instant love! Like a huge rush came over me. My maternal instincts kicking in. Mark immediately going into dad mode. It’s crazy how that works. Because Tucker had no prenatal care and was born a month early, he stayed in the NICU for a few days. As the days went on and we came home and got settled, I remember waking up and thinking so many times, was that a dream?? Then looking at him in his bassinet next to us and crying. No, no, this wasn’t a dream. This really happened. This FINALLY really happened.