The One Question I Loathe

So, since we've brought Cole home it's very obvious he's adopted.  I mean, really, chocolate brown eyes, black hair, olive skin, you can't miss that we're pasty white and have brown hair and a blonde son with blue eyes.  Adoption is obvious, right?

Well, we get a lot of "Congratulations" and "He's so cute," but I always brace myself for the next question.  I expected other questions, but I don't get a lot of those, but I do get this one almost every time.  When I first heard it, I was taken aback, almost shocked.  Ready for it. . .

"Where did you get him?"

Now, before you think I'm mortally offended, you should know that I understand that people are well-meaning.  Because it's obvious that Cole is adopted, people have questions about his adoption.  Understandable.  However, whenever they ask me that question, I'm confused about what they mean, and part of me really wants to laugh.

Do they mean. . .
Is it an international adoption?
Is it an out of state adoption?
Is it a local adoption?
Do we know the birth mother?
Did we go through an agency?
Is it an open adoption?

People don't realize how bad they sound when they ask this question.  The answer is, "A mother chose to place her child for adoption, and she chose us for his adoptive family."  That's where we "got" him.  We went to the hospital and picked him up.  

What we are tempted to answer:
"There was a sale down at the baby store.  You should check it out.   Oops, it only ran through September.  Sorry."
Matt's favorite:  "Blue-Light Special"
"We found a pregnant mother and bribed her because we were getting so desperate." 
"Shh, don't tell anyone, we're trying to see if no one will notice that he doesn't look like us."

Okay, really, that would be cruel, I know, to answer in any of those ways.  People really are just curious and don't mean to be insensitive.  I know.

How do I really feel about where Cole came from?
Cole's adoption was the answer to many prayers.  Adoption answered the mother's prayers in wondering what she should do.  Adoption answered our prayers as to what we should do.  In a miraculous way, Heavenly Father brought us together.  Before I sound uber-cheesy and all rainbow-glowy (oops, too late), I want you to know that this reason is why it is hard to write his story.  I firmly believe that we (the birth mother and us) were the answers to the other person's prayers. 

Did I pray that the events that preceded Cole's arrival at our house would happen to the birth mother?  No. Did we pray that the birth mother would have to experience what she did?  No.  We prayed that when the time came, that she would be led to us, if it were right for us to adopt her child.  We prayed that she would know that we were the right family if we were.   We prayed that if this particular situation was right (when it came up) that doors would be opened.  We prayed that if we were going to adopt, we would be prepared.

Was she led to us?  Yes, directly.
Did she know that we were the right family?  Yes, (or so I am told by her caseworker).
Were doors opened?  More than I'll ever be able to explain.
Were we prepared?  Yes, it took five very long years, but the Lord knew exactly what he was doing.  He knew that we needed that time to be ready.


Want to know a secret?  When we attended our first workshop training for hopeful adoptive parents, I hoped that the maximum wait for us would be two years -- no longer.  I couldn't bear it to be longer, or so I thought.  Want to know what the Holy Ghost whispered to me (what I now recognize was his voice)?  Five Years.  It would take five years.  This month it is five years from the date that we began considering adoption.  It was five years ago that I went into the Stake President's office and asked his advice.  It was five years ago this Christmas that our families and friends all pitched in and helped answer our prayers about how (meaning money) we were going to be able to adopt.

FIVE YEARS

Does this make me cry?  You betcha.

Where did Cole come from?  The same place that you and I did.

He came from heaven.



(Would anyone like some crackers with the cheese?)