Meet the Parents
I never allowed myself, nor do I think I could have ever imagined the kind of couple who would end up being the parents to my son. When it’s not something you ever wanted to happen, it’s almost impossible to then picture them with someone other than yourself. So, when I was asked what I wanted them to look for in adoptive parents, it felt a little like a kick to the gut. To first have a child removed and then to feel like they wanted me to choose who to pick when all I truly wanted was for him to come home to me, it seemed like torture.
Admittedly, I used to think that there could never be someone out there who would love my son the way that I did. Having never been in that position, I struggled to understand how anyone could bond with a child that isn’t theirs in the same way I had bonded with my son. Even harder was the thought that he would grow to love someone else more than he loved me, though this had long passed given that he had been with his foster carers longer than he was with me. I was nothing but a surrogate in his life now, just another friendly face; soon to be forgotten.
I don’t remember quite when I was asked if I would like to meet the adoptive parents. It was a risk for me. If I didn’t like these people in any way, I’d have spent my entire life being consumed by worry about a child that I no longer had the right to call my own. I was also terrified that I would meet the parents and they wouldn’t like me. I didn’t want them raising my son and hating me. I didn’t know if this would affect how they felt about him and more than anything, I wanted him to know love. I wanted him to be loved, wanted, and adored. So, when they had asked me what to look for, I had said I wanted a couple with no other children and who couldn’t have their own family. Although I know different now, I was young and naive at the time and somehow felt that these conditions would mean the couple would love my son more. He would be more special to them somehow. I desperately wanted him to be for them, what he was to me. Wanted. Longed for. My one and only.
I had accepted the adoption. It had happened and I couldn’t get my son back. That time had passed. I was meeting them for him now, I wasn’t doing this for me. No matter how scared I was that they would hate me, worse that they wouldn’t care enough to like me or hate me as if all of it was pointless to them, it was important to me that they cared about meeting me; for his sake.
I was told prior to the meeting that the couple was ‘mature’ for adopters which meant nothing to me considering I wasn’t exactly well versed in the statistics of the age of adopters. I had no idea what to expect but was slightly relieved when I saw them for the first time, and they weren’t the same age as my Grandad! In what could quite possibly have been one of the most awkward meetings of my life, I quickly felt at ease when I realised, they were incredibly nice. I won’t pretend I remember a word of what was said, but I do remember the feeling I got from that meeting. I was able to come away feeling like somehow, out of such a heart-breaking situation, my son was with two people that I honestly couldn’t have hoped to be better.
Not a single day since have I ever worried about him being loved. Meeting Peggy and Chris allowed me to feel comfortable moving on with my life and somewhat mended a very broken heart. I liked them so much that I wanted them to be happy with THEIR son. Somehow, it felt like fate had stepped in and he’d landed right where he should have.