A long-held dream come true.
I was ten years old when I read about a baby who’d been abandoned in front of a door step, a letter stating that he was loved but could not be cared, left behind by a heartbroken mother.
I wanted to be the answer to that kind of mother’s prayer. I wanted to love, protect, feed, clothe a baby whose mother could not do those things. Not only because I loved babies, but also because I loved humanity. The thought of a woman worrying that her child is not loved was unbearable to me. I wanted to ease ‘her’ fears. But I was myself still a child.
Fast forward to varsity days and I’d found the man I’d eventually marry. We both had moved to Forest Hill residence at the time and we’d taken a walk to Pick n Pay that particular day. As we walked, we spoke about children. He didn’t want any. I wanted five! Clearly, we were not seeing eye to eye, and there was NO way I’d ever back down. I’d always wanted to be a mother.
After reminding him what Ellen White says about childless homes, he said, “Fine. We will have one… One adopted baby.”
I exclaimed, “What? What kind of Black man doesn’t want a biological child!? I want them BOTH! An adoptee and a biological one. I want to feel what it’s like to be pregnant! I want to feel life growing inside me! Why?”
His response was, “Why make a child when there are already children who need parents? Why add to the numbers?”
Again, I said, “I want to experience pregnancy! I want to feel like growing inside me! I want those kicks and hiccups. I definitely want to adopt. But I also want to be pregnant.”
By the end of the shopping trip, we’d agreed to a compromise.
One biological, and one adopted. Not the five I had originally wanted. But also not the zero he’d wanted, either. God must have laughed!
Fast forward after it turned out I needed help to get pregnant, we suddenly had a miracle pregnancy. No intervention needed. Our son only three months old! Immediately, my husband decided to close the baby factory. “You’re going to be a homeschooling mom,” he reasoned. “We’ll never afford more than two children on a single salary.”
I begged and pleaded for my hard fought ability to conceive. I reasoned that we “didn’t know the future, I was only 25! What if money did increase later? Wasn’t this a choice made because of a lack of faith? Why so permanent a method? “ Nope! It was done. No more children. No adoption.I mourned for years.
Until one day when I was 34 and our children were age 10 and nine, as we sat in an afternoon church study, husband said, “This chapter that we are studying, has challenged me.” (It was on adoption.) “Please pray for us… Actually, Thandi has always wanted to adopt. It’s me who has been hesitating. But I think it’s time.”
Well, blow me over with a feather! I was ecstatic! I had given up! Pregnancy announcements used to cause so much pain because I was not DONE! To never cuddle another baby again, to never teach another little one to read… It was never in my plans. So to know I had another chance! It was amazing!
Of course I didn’t just sit and wait for the church to pray. I researched! I’d waited 24 years for this. The last nine spent never believing it would happen.
The actual adoption part is a whole other story! I’ll end this by saying that the reason we adopted AGAIN was because we didn’t want our little one to be “the only one” who wasn’t biologically related. We wanted her to have another sibling she could relate to.
So, that’s why we adopted. We knew we could parent any child who needed our love. Be they from my womb, or someone else’s. We knew we could love that child.❤️