Adoption: The End is Actually the Beginning

I was sitting in my home office on a random Tuesday afternoon when my wife walked into the room, tears in her eyes and her cell phone pressed to her ear. She was listening to the voice on the other end of the line, but she was trying to tell me something with her eyes. She put her hand on my shoulder and, through deep gasps of air, she whispered to me: “They picked us. We’re getting a baby.”

Let me back up. Two years ago, my wife and I started what would be a long journey toward adopting a baby. We attended interviews and orientation classes, were subjected to multiple criminal background checks and home inspections, and lots of waiting. We had been told that the process could take up to two years, but I don’t think we really believed that it would. However, with every passing month, we wrestled with feelings of frustration, confusion, and doubt. Throughout the process, we were assigned different social workers, came close to being placed more than once, and at the end of the day found ourselves still without a baby. We hosted fundraisers. I even wrote a book just to raise money for the adoption! We worried that we had chosen the wrong path. We also worried that people who knew us might wonder if we were frauds and weren’t really planning to adopt at all.

And then one Tuesday in June—almost two years to the day of when our journey began—our social worker called and told Caroline what she wanted to hear most: “You’re getting a baby.”

The next two days were a blur: Calling family and friends, making plans for our other two kids, buying a car seat (as well as a crib, baby formula, blankets, and clothes), and trying to make sure we weren’t forgetting anything (as it turns out, we forgot many, many things, but it was fine).

So finally, on Thursday, June 9, we brought our new son home to stay. His name is Abel, and he’s the greatest. 

Our two older kids are obsessed with him. My son—who is six—welcomed his baby brother home by showing him all of the DVD cases for each of the Star Wars movies and explaining what each one of them is about. The question our older kids most frequently ask in our house is currently, “Can I hold the baby?” 

And now this path that began over two years ago has come to an end, and yet it feels like the real journey is just beginning. We have an Open Adoption, which means we are in contact with Abel’s birth family, and we will continue to be part of each other’s lives as we go forward. So our ideas about family continue to expand in ways that we never could have imagined. I’m sure I’ll have more to say about that as time marches on.

 So for those of you who have been following along with us as we have navigated the long road towards adoption, thank you for your encouragement, your support, and your prayers. They have meant more than you know.

And to those of you who wonder if there is something you should do—a big step you want to take but feel afraid or uneasy—let me offer you a word of encouragement: As a dad who has felt intimidated and afraid throughout this whole process of adoption, I am so glad we took the risks that we took and followed the path that we were called to follow. Or, more precisely, I am so glad that my wife had the determination and faith to proceed even when I wanted to bail. If we hadn’t taken the path that we were so clearly called to take, we would not have Abel, which I cannot even imagine today. He so completely belongs in our family, and I can’t picture life without him.

 So whatever that next step is for you, I hope you take it. I hope you move forward and see what life has in store for you.

Grace and peace.

Adoption: Slowly But Surely

First, a word of gratitude to everyone who has been so gracious and generous as my family continues to work toward adopting a baby. So many people have purchased t-shirts, made donations through our GoFundMe page, and invited others to participate as well. I feel overwhelmed and humbled every single time someone gives even a dollar to this. There are no words that can adequately express my gratitude. Our friends don't owe us anything, and yet you give so freely. It seems a bit cliche to say that we are blessed, but that may be the only word that comes close to expressing it.

We still have a long way to go, so I wanted to let everybody know about a few projects we're involved in as we continue to get closer and closer to our new baby.

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First, we are participating in the Second Annual Cornholers for Adoption Tournament (Saturday, October 4). Last year, our friends Nate and Jackie Fritzel started this annual event, and it enabled them to adopt their daughter Baeya. This year, they have graciously offered to allow our family to be the recipients of the tournament's proceeds. There will be raffle items, smoked meats, fun for the kids, and of course, a Cornhole Tournament (if you don't know what Cornhole is, it's a game where you toss small bags full of corn into a hole; it's kind of like horseshoes, and people are very serious about it). You can either enter the tournament through the "serious" bracket or the "just-messing-around" bracket. Also, you don't have to play at all; if you just like raffles and smoked meats, that's cool, too.

Second, we are partnering with Just Love Coffee Roasters. If you order coffee through our page, a portion of the money will go toward our adoption. So if  you want to help out with our adoption while also drinking delicious organic, Fair Trade coffee (they have K-Cups!), feel free to click the link and order something. It costs the same as coffee at the grocery store.

Third, I will be releasing an ebook in a few weeks, and every sale of the book will go toward the adoption. The book is called Lost in the Flood: Reflections on the Biblical Story of Noah. I'll let you know when it is available.

So in summary, here are all the available ways to contribute (of course, please feel free to give nothing at all; we do not feel entitled to anyone's generosity; this is only for people who want to do something)-

Attend the 2nd Annual Cornholers for Adoption Tournament

Buy coffee from Just Love Coffee Roasters

Order our custom print from Birds for Babies

Shop at Caroline's Etsy shop

Order a t-shirt through PayPal (send payment and shipping instructions to carolinecarmack898@gmail.com)

Make a donation at GoFundMe.com

Thank you so much for your interest and your support.

Grace and peace be with you.

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Four Carmacks and Counting

As I've mentioned before, our family is in the process of adopting a baby. 

We've already made it through the first few stages--mostly interviewing and filling out forms, like applying for a job, but the stakes feel much higher.

We still have a long way to go. There are more seminars and workshops to attend, books to read, people to meet, and bills to pay. It's not unlike having a biological baby, except instead of going to doctor appointments and paying for prenatal treatments, we are going to seminars and paying for the adoption services. Of course, the end result is the same (a baby). 

There are lots of stages in this process, but the part I have been dreading the most--the part that always makes me uncomfortable to talk about--is the fundraising stage.

I hate asking people for money. It makes me feel like I'm abusing my friendships or trying to trick someone into joining a pyramid scheme. It reminds me of that scene in Garden State when Zach Braff runs into a guy from high school and the guy says, "We all have dreams. I know I do. I'd like to talk to you about an exciting opportunity that people are talking about..." That's usually when people start pretending to get text messages and stop making eye contact.

But here we are--in the fundraising stage of the adoption process, needing way more money than we could ever find under the couch cushions (unless graham crackers count as money). 

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Our t-shirt. $16 apiece.

So we've decided to make this fun. Caroline has an Etsy shop, which gives her the opportunity to make stuff she would have made anyway and to let people buy those items if they choose to do so. I'm working on an eBook that I hope to release in mid-September, and all of the proceeds from that will go to the adoption (I'll post more about the book in the next few weeks. This project is also why I haven't posted any new content on the blog in the past few weeks. Writing a book is hard). We're going to have some fun events, beginning with a Corn Hole tournament in Roanoke, hosted by our good friends the Fritzels, who went through this same process a year ago. We also have t-shirts, which you will be able to purchase when they arrive next week. We also have a GoFundMe.com page for anyone who simply wants to donate.

If you can't or simply don't want to donate or participate in our upcoming events, don't worry about it. No hard feelings. I certainly don't feel entitled to anyone's generosity, and I don't want you to feel like you need to avoid me in the grocery store if there are other things you'd rather give your money to.

That said, to those of you who have already donated or plan to order a t-shirt, thank you. That's all I really know how to say. You have my gratitude. What you have done (or plan to do) is an act of grace--a kindness that could never be fully repaid--and that will never be lost on me.

Anyway, thanks for reading and for your interest in my family. I will keep you posted on further developments.

Grace and Peace.

Adoption, Risk, and the Fear of Toxic Gas

“Let’s say a toxic gas is released in your neighborhood and you need to evacuate. Where would you go?”

A strange question to be sure, but it was one of the scenarios that was raised during our recent adoption orientation class.

Let’s back up.

Caroline and I have begun the process of adopting a child. It’s a long process that begins with an orientation class at our adoption agency, which we attended earlier this week. At this orientation class, we are led through an overview of the adoption process, given a brief history of adoption in the United States, told what our responsibilities and rights (and expenses) are, and walked through several scenarios that we will need to think about at some point in the very near future.

Which raised the question from our social worker: “Let’s say a toxic gas is released in your neighborhood and you need to evacuate. Where would you go?”

These are the things you have to think about. I mean, I’m a “worst-case-scenario” thinker anyway, so it’s kind of strange that I hadn’t thought about this one already, but here we were.

I remember the first time my wife told me she was pregnant and how joyful and overwhelmed I felt. I remember the second time she told me and the same feelings rushing through me all over again. That’s what this adoption orientation class felt like.

Intimidating.

Exciting.

Overwhelming.

Of course, whenever you tell people that you want to adopt a child, the reaction is mixed. Some people are excited for you, and some people are worried about what kind of trauma you are setting yourself up to endure.

The reactions span from “How exciting!” to “Are you sure you’ve really thought about this?”

Again, this is not unlike a biological pregnancy. Most people are excited for you, but there are probably some people who are (at least silently) wondering if you’re really up for it.

Here’s the thing I learned both times my wife was pregnant and that I was reminded of during our adoption orientation class: We never have as much control as we want.

People who want to warn you about the dangers of adoption seem to forget that a biological pregnancy has just as many questions and concerns attached to it. Are we under the illusion that our genetic material is incapable of creating a child who will grow up to struggle with emotional or physical health issues? Do we really think there is some level of certainty and safety associated with our own biological children?

We have several friends who have adopted kids, and they have all told us about all of the fears and risks involved. However, they have all also talked about the incredible, rewarding, and overwhelming feeling of welcoming a child into their home--of choosing to adopt and becoming more open than ever before.

Are there risks involved in adoption? Of course there are. There are risks involved in every human interaction. That’s part of being alive.

Brene Brown says this in her book Daring Greatly:

“I define vulnerability as uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure. With that definition in mind, let’s think about love. Waking up every day and loving someone who may or may not love us back, whose safety we can’t ensure, who may stay in our lives or may leave without a moment’s notice, who may be loyal to the day they die or betray us tomorrow—that’s vulnerability.” 

So basically, to be alive and interact with any other human soul is risk. That vulnerability can be terrifying, especially to those of us who have been wounded or who have a natural fear of pain. But without the vulnerability, we lose the rewards of love and openness—we lose our human connection with the people around us.

So yes, we are going to adopt a baby, and that will open us up in all kinds of new ways.

It is a risk to be sure, but that’s part of being human.

And it’s worth it.

If you are an adoptive parent or an adopted child, I would love to hear your story! Feel free to post it in the Comments section below or send it to me in an email.

Children Deserve a Safe Place

My parents divorced when I was seven years old. The amazing thing is that I remember it—all of it.

I remember feeling confused about why, all of a sudden, my father, my brother, and I were moving in with my grandparents.

I remember feeling nervous when it was my turn to testify in court. I even remember what I was wearing that day.

I remember the awkward weekend visitations with my mother, who I was never close to even as a child.

I remember one of those weekends especially, because the police came to my mother’s house in the middle of the night in order to take my brother and me back to my father.

I remember feeling relieved when the judge awarded my father custody of my brother and me.

Like I said, I remember everything.

But mostly I remember the fear.

That kind of uncertainty can overwhelm a kid—Where do I live today? Where will I live tomorrow? Who is responsible for me?

And it was all underlined by the knowledge that I had absolutely no control over the answers to any of these questions.

People think that kids don’t understand these feelings—that they are so unaware of what is happening around them that are blissfully unaffected by the problems of adults. But don’t be fooled. Kids are smart and intuitive; they know when there is turmoil in their universe.

Last week I watched a movie called What Maisie Knew. It’s about a little girl named Maisie whose parents are getting a divorce, and the whole movie is seen from Maisie’s perspective. As the story progresses, we—the viewers—become increasingly concerned for Maisie’s well-being as we understand that her parents are both far too selfish to concern themselves with their daughter while they are dealing with their own problems.

When the movie was over, I realized that the filmmakers had done something brilliant—they had created an experience for the audience that would simulate what it feels like to be a child in that situation. There were moments while watching the movie that I felt real waves of anxiety. I realized later that I was reliving my own childhood experiences through this film. I felt Maisie’s fear and sadness, and it created a real response within me.

I know lots of people who have lots of different opinions about how kids should be parented. They have opinions about nutrition, opinions about how much to shelter kids from outside influences, opinions about how kids should be educated, opinions about how children should be disciplined. They think they are right, and every other parent is wrong.

While there are so many different philosophies of parenting and strong opinions about differing points of view, I’d like to think we can all agree on one thing: All kids should have a place in the world where they feel safe.

This is why Maisie seems so fragile in the film—she has no safe place. At best, she is an instrument of control and manipulation being wielded by one parent against the other. At worst, she is forgotten entirely. There is no safe place for a child who is subjected to this kind of daily life.

The movie forced me to confront some of my darkest childhood memories, but it also convicted me as a parent. Do my kids feel secure? I hope they do, and I know that my wife and I do everything we can to ensure this. However, the film reminded me that I should never take this for granted. It’s too important. The stakes are too high.

My pledge as a father is that I will do everything I can to make my children feel safe and loved when they are with me. Regardless of what else is happening in their world or in mine, they will never wonder if I love them and will know that I will give them a safe place to sleep every night.

This is why adoption is such a beautiful thing. It is a pledge to the adopted child that says, You will always have a safe place, and you will always be loved.

May we be these kinds of parents—mothers and fathers who do not burden our kids with fear and uncertainty, who provide a place of safety in the midst of even the harshest of storms.

What do you think? What kinds of situations do you think cause kids to feel fear and uncertainty? 

Adoption as Resurrection (or "What an Adopted Baby Can Teach Us About Jesus")

Several years ago, a teenage girl in my youth ministry told me that she was pregnant and didn't know what to do.

She felt scared and alone. She feared the possible negative reactions from her parents and her friends, and she felt hurt that the baby’s father was not interested in whatever decision she would make.

To make a long story short, the girl ultimately decided to give the baby up for adoption. Eight months later, she gave birth to a baby girl and handed her over to another family.

There was tremendous pain in that decision. She did not make it lightly, and she understood the long-term implications. However, she also knew what was best for this baby girl, and she made the bravest and most selfless decision any person in her situation could have made.

And her sacrifice created a family.

There was a painful moment of death for this girl when she said goodbye to her baby. It was a moment that will stay with her for the rest of her life.

There was a moment of new life for the baby and the family who adopted her.

There was a death, and then there was a resurrection.

This week, my friends Nate and Jackie adopted a newborn baby (you can read their story on her blog). They have been working for years toward this moment. In fact, they did not even believe that they would receive a baby as quickly as they did. I recently heard them speculate that they may have to wait as long as two years.

However, it happened much sooner than they had expected.

In addition to their young son, they now have a newborn baby girl, and she is theirs. They have experienced resurrection, and their family will never be the same.

From a birth mother’s great fear and uncertainty and sacrifice emerges a moment of creation and life-changing love for a growing family.

What a beautiful picture of resurrection.

Thank God for birth parents who make the greatest and bravest of sacrificial choices.

Thank God for people who adopt babies and the families they create.

Thank God for resurrection.

Amen.

 To read more about everyday resurrection, take a look at yesterday’s post, The Avocado Must Die.