The journey to adopting my daughters could be summed up in with one sentence:
In his heart a man plans his course but the LORD determines his steps.
When Andrew and I began the adoption process, we were looking to adopt a child around 5-8 years. Because we had learned in our foster-adoption classes that older black boys were the least desirable* and most difficult to place, we filled out the pre-placement adoption paperwork with that in mind.
What we planned to do and what we did ended up being two completely different things…
Paige, a white baby girl, was three months old when we began visits, and five months old when she moved in. Even though she had severe drug withdrawal, she was still considered the most sought-after type of child.*
Payton, her older sister, came to live with us just before she turned three. As a young white child, she was also considered highly adoptable.*
Andrew and I did not have problems conceiving nor did we desire another baby, which was why we didn’t want to adopt an infant, or even a three-year-old.
So, how did we veer so far from our planned course?
Ruth: The mother of my daughters.**
The whole story started when I became Ruth’s birth coach. My plan wasn’t to adopt Ruth’s baby but that’s what happened. And then we adopted Payton, Ruth’s older daughter when they were unable to reunify.
I was thinking about all this tonight while walking my dog because Ruth and I met for coffee today. Things are still up in the air about how and when we will open up the adoption; however, there is one thing we both know without a shadow of a doubt.
It was God’s plan that we meet and be the mothers of these two beautiful girls.
* These aren’t my words but what we were told in our foster-adopt classes and by the social workers.
** For the most part, I’ve decided to forgo any sort of qualifier when referencing Ruth. She is the mother of my daughters, just as I am the mother of her daughters.