Marriages end. Romantic love fades—or at least waxes and wanes. But the first time you hold your child in your arms, you know that you are now joined as one, parent and child, for as long as you live. And, even if that relationship ever grows toxic or estranged, parent and child, you shall remain forever.
For my partner and I, and our family, that moment of no return came when our daughter was over a year old. And how she came into our lives became irrelevant as quickly as we fell irrevocably and madly in love with our ever-fascinating child. Five years on, our lives revolve around screentime limits, non-stop questions, the squishiest hugs, the wisest observations, the funniest jokes, and incessant eye-rolls from the resident six-going-on-sixteen little person in our lives. Meanwhile, the paperwork, the long wait, and the judge pronouncing the order that joined us as a family forever are only distant memories.
But over these five years, I’ve had several prospective adoptive parents reach out to me with questions, worries, and doubts. Will I love this child as I would my ‘own’? What will I do if people I love discriminate against her? How will I tell him he was adopted? Why should I tell her she was adopted? When should I tell them? And, how do I stop my heart from breaking when I gather the courage to tell them? The answers are simple and start from a singular truth. You are parent and child. Forever.
Unconditionally Forever I don’t have an adopted child. Instead, my child came into my life through adoption. And adoption doesn’t have to be a scary word. It doesn’t matter what led you to become a parent: great sex, a petri-dish in a laboratory, or truckloads of paperwork. All that matters are the bright eyes that light up your life. And so, adoption was just the process. It is also an essential part of your child’s history, which they have the absolute right to know. Tell them, be honest, use age-appropriate stories, meet other families made from adoption. But it’s unquestionably the right thing to do.
I talk about adoption to everyone who asks, looks curious, or gives me the slightest opening. I’m an over-sharer, and my Facebook timeline is filled with unthought-through posts with #TMI. And thus, I open myself up to comments and questions that range from how ‘noble’ we are, how ‘lucky’ she is, and whether we know who our daughter’s ‘real parents’ are. I try to answer each question logically, unemotionally, factually—because often, people really don’t know any better. And I’d like to do my bit to hopefully open someone’s mind enough to have some child somewhere find their way to their forever family.
Mum’s the world The author with her adopted daughter.
As parents, we must be our child’s best advocates, fighting for them, setting the record straight, making sure they see the best versions of themselves through our eyes. There will always be people who don’t get it and those who never will because they don’t want to. I answer questions of the former to help them understand and don’t bother with those who insist on treating our child as either lucky or special.
Be unprepared Nothing prepares you for how you will feel when you hold them for the first time. But, there’s magic in letting yourself go, to feel each feeling intensely, to allow yourself to drown in the whirlpool of the first few weeks as your child becomes yours. And contrary to all the sage advice you’ll undoubtedly get, I will tell you to forget everything you’ve heard about how you’re supposed to feel when you meet your baby for the first time. Especially if you’re a first-time parent, but even if you have a biological child already.
When you see the social worker walk in with your baby, how are you supposed to feel?
When you finally hold her in your arms, do her softness and weight feel familiar? This is a child with their own history, and there you are—the two of you, sometimes just you alone—with a whole family waiting to be owned by this child right here, forever. For those of you who believe in destiny, you will see it at work. For those of us who don’t, we are hard-pressed to explain what looks like incontrovertible evidence of it being at work, and so we ignore it or try to rationalise it—and maybe a hint of agnosticism creeps in.
Be unprepared and unguarded with how you feel, but do have a name in mind—or a few. We had a list of names we loved and had decided to go with the one we felt would ‘fit’ our daughter the best. And, it worked. She fit the name that meant ‘happiness’.
Go with the flow For the first few weeks together, it’s okay to just go at the speed that your baby wants. Speaking from my experience, I say ‘baby’ but also if you’re bringing home an older child. Your baby will probably cling to her mother and be wary of her father since her primary caregivers up until now would’ve been women. He may refuse solids, even though the childcare centre gave you a list of things they’ve been feeding him. She may scream bloody murder if you keep her down, even for the two minutes it takes you to run to the bathroom and back. He may wake up screaming many times through the night and need to be held close and rocked back to sleep. Or, she might sleep quietly through the night, making you weep at the thought of the nights of sleep-training the poor thing would’ve cried helplessly through. He may be wary of strangers or happily jump out of his new mother’s arms at every other person she meets. Your child is her own person.
I’m co-admin of a Facebook group called Gentle Parenting India with more than 62,000 members who follow a parenting philosophy that sees each child as unique and believes in treating them with respect. And, I find so many stories on this group mirrored in my relationship with my child. But I do know that my child is different from a child who has had continuity of love and care from within the womb to after they’re born and the first few months (or years) of their life. And so, if you find yourself in a similar place in your life, I have one last piece of advice.
In your first few weeks together, let this tiny human who is going through the biggest, scariest change that anyone can at that age, decide how fast or slow your relationship will grow. Let them live on the basic nutrition of formula milk for a few days if giving solid food a chance is too much for their stressed minds to handle right then. Babies will not let themselves starve, and their bodies can survive on just milk or any other comfort food for a few days. It’s their minds and hearts that need greater sustenance during this time of change. Cherish them clinging to you, and let them heal their minds, and start believing that you aren’t going anywhere. Whisper in their ears, or sing, as you rock them back to sleep for the fifth time in one night. Don’t stress about their schedule or how much sleep they’re getting. Don’t worry about thumb-sucking. It’s giving your baby comfort. Nothing bad will happen with a few days of this chaos of letting the baby decide, and everything wonderful will come out of it.
And with that, I wish you an unconditionally forever and wonderfully happy ever after.
(This appeared in the print edition as "Wonderfully Happy Ever After")
(Views expressed are personal)
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