The article below is written by a birth mom. If every adoption would turn out like this I think this world would be a much better place. Get some tissues!
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Hot Potato
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I’ve been playing Hot Potato with my son’s adoptive parents for years now. It started in the letters, they would write “thank you” and other words of gratitude, I would respond in kind sharing my own “thank you’s” and words of gratitude. This game progressed and heightened at our first face to face meeting when Joe was 12 years old. Kathy and I embraced each other, crying and repeating “thank you, thank you, thank you” until we each realized we were saying the same thing to each other and pulled back and laughed.
It feels like Hot Potato because the moment I hear a word of gratitude from them, my instinct is to immediately divert it back to them. For in my eyes, our story is a happy one because of who they are and how they have opened their heart and family to me. I also know that their instinct is to divert it back to me. They recognize that their family would not exist had it not been for me. That we may not have grown so close, had it not been for my respect of them as Joe’s parents. And so the game continues.
Joe was married this month. He found his beautiful bride, Anne, two years ago in South Dakota , and discovered they actually lived only 20 miles from each other in Iowa
It occurred to me on this day just how easy it would be for a mother to take for granted their role in a child’s wedding. I thought about my two daughters, both of which I have dreamed of their wedding days, with the assumptions of being a part of the day. But for Joe, nothing was assumed. Because of this I cherished every single little moment, not taking any part of it for granted.
And so the game of Hot Potato continued. At the church, just moments after I arrived to see Joe and his bride getting their picture taken with their parents, Joe and the photographer motioned for me to join them. Catch. I sat by his father, Jerry, and smiled. After the shot, I hugged Jerry and thanked him for having me there. Toss. He looked surprised and answered “But of course!” Catch. They took lots of pictures. When they took the one of Joe, his Dad, and his sister’s family, my heart burst with gratitude at the loving family he was a part of. Toss. Then they took a picture of my husband and I, Joe and Anne, and my daughters Rachel and Amanda. A family photo. Another catch.
Still stunned and breathing shallow from being included in family photos, I walked to the back of the church where two young attendants approached me, “There’s a corsage here for you,” one said as she handed me the purple flowers. Catch. I whispered a “thank you” as I tried to remember how to breathe. Toss.
People began to enter the church, including my mom, sister and her family, and two sets of my aunts and uncles. When it got close to the time to be seated, I asked Joe where he would like us to sit. “The first three rows,” he answered. “And you and Grandma should wait back here because I’m going to seat you.” Catch. He was going to walk me down the aisle, in front of all the seated guests, and put me in the front row. Now I needed something to hold on to, this was much more than I ever anticipated! I looked desperately around for Jerry, but couldn’t find him. I told my mother, and she squeezed my hand with a smile. “Okay then, we’ll wait here,” she simply said. Her confidence helped. I started to breathe a bit better. When the time came, I didn’t think about anyone in the church like I had thought I would. I was so proud of Joe, he looked so happy and handsome, all I could think about was hugging him and telling him how proud of him I was. I could also see he was a bit nervous, so half way down the aisle I whispered, “Would it help if we started to sing Zip-A-Dee-Do-Da?” He laughed and said “I think Anne would kill me!” And we made it to the front row with no blubbering tears, just big grins. I didn’t get the chance to tell Joe in that moment, but that was what my Dad had said to me the day he walked me down the aisle at my own wedding to ease my nerves. It worked, both times. (Thanks Dad!)
After being seated, and being sure my tissues were close at hand, I looked up, and finally found Jerry. Since his wife’s passing three years earlier, he had become a Deacon. He was dressed in white robes, standing next to the priest in front of the altar, and there couldn’t have been more pride on his face. I thought again how lucky it was that Joe had him for a Dad, someone who made it through a horrible time in losing Kathy and found his way closer to God and working to bring love and peace into the lives of others. Toss.
Anne came down the aisle, and took everyone’s breath away. I was surprised at how I felt much more like smiling than crying. I was just so happy for the both of them, they’re each other’s best friends, and biggest fans, with a bright future. I held it together pretty good, only a few more tears during the wedding vows, then Jerry approached the pulpit to give the eulogy. He shared how he had been cleaning out Kathy’s office over the summer, and a book had fallen out of a box of files. It fell open to a poem about marriage and commitment, and he felt Kathy was saying she had something to share. He pulled out the book and read the beautiful poem.
Next, he said “None of us would be here today if it wasn’t for Pat.” And as he began to share some of our story, and shared the gratefulness felt by both him and Kathy, I began to lose it. It was completely unexpected. Here, I had attended the wedding, just hoping for a tiny spot in the back, a chance to witness this important day in my son’s life. And instead, I was sitting front and center and now Jerry was shining the spotlight. Catch. As I started to cry, all I could think of was “No, no, no! I didn’t do anything! You and Kathy are the ones who raised Joe, you and Kathy are the ones who loved him everyday, you and Kathy are the reason I even get to be here, you and Kathy are the ones everyone here should thank!” Toss.
But as he kept talking, about our shared love for Joe, our respect for each other, and our happy ending, I did something I had never done. I didn’t toss. I let it sink in. Jerry was right, that one little moment in my life, saying goodbye to Joe and placing him in their care, lead to changing the life of every person in that room. The people Joe met, and cared about, wouldn’t have had that opportunity to know this amazing young man. Anne might not have ever found him. These families wouldn’t have become connected. It all started with a little baby, and a decision. And now, it’s lead to this moment, a church full of people, both adoptive family and birth family as one big family, and now that family is growing too as we add Anne’s family to ours. I took a moment, just a moment, and let it sink in. The decision I made was the most painful event of my life. But it was right. Anyone that took one look at Joe and Anne together, and our families together, could see, it was right. As my sister said later, “We were all right where we should be at that moment.”
So, while the game of Hot Potato will continue (I could NEVER thank Kathy and Jerry enough!), I have a new sense of peace, and a little bit of pride, in knowing that I did do something good and right at one time in my life. And thanks to the game of Hot Potato, Joe has witnessed how people show sincerity in their gratitude, over and over again. It has made him a stronger man, a compassionate one, and one who never takes love for granted. Isn’t Anne lucky?
Brought to you by:
Patricia Dischler
Author, Speaker, Child Care Professional, Birthmother
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Wow, great story. Makes me hope to live that out as our little boy grows into a man. My prayer is for his Birth Mother to be able to make his wedding as well. DDowdney
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