ADOPTION!                                                                  March 2, 2015

     When my beloved and I married, we knew that we wanted to have children.  We understood that could not happen right away because he was still a student and I, a very wet behind the ears, social worker.  We needed to grow, mature and adjust to this business of living together.  We were however, enthusiastic, eager and earnest.  After two years we decided it was time; perhaps I should have added impatient to our character traits.  With delicious abandon I tossed my diaphragm onto the top shelf of my closet.  It was never to be used or seen again!

     We joined the many others who have “suffered” through the anguish of searching out the reason for infertility.  The process is lengthy, the tests are many; procedures are frequently painful as well.  That was a long time ago back in 1949; I know there have been positive changes.  The process of determining the exact nature of our brand of infertility took two years.  By the time we understood our problem we discovered there was no fix, we decided that we would adopt children.  Family life without kids to challenge and brighten our days was unthinkable, maybe even selfish.

     While we were still in Cincinnati where Erv was finishing his last year before ordination as a rabbi, we applied to the Family Service agency’s adoption unit.  They turned us down!  How dare they do that: rabbi and social worker were destined to be good parents, loving parents, and unselfish parents!  We were shocked and angry. They did not want one of their babies moved out of their reach during its first year.  Bad social work!  In graduate school I was taught that there is always the possibility of moving a “case” out of the state as long as it can be transferred and supervised by an appropriate agency. When we found the door closed in April, we knew we had another long wait; Erv had not even looked for a pulpit, he was concentrating on exams.

     I was not concerned, I knew he was already a fine rabbi, I was confident that we had a great future ahead and I believed we would have children.  As soon as we landed in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, I made phone calls and inquiries about agencies that had children for adoption.  The Family & Children’s Agency in Winston was delighted to help us.  Before we realized it we were interviewed, our histories were checked, our home was assessed and we got to know our social worker so well that soon we were drinking beer with her. In the fall of 1949, our paper work was completed and by January 1950, we were introduced to our son, several days later we brought Jeff home, where he was to grow up into a fine young man.  He was a delicious baby, content, happy, playful from the beginning.

     Before we had an opportunity to think about the subject of another child, our social worker came to us a year later, and said, “Now that Jeff’s papers are final, he is all yours, he needs a baby sister.   I was conflicted; I had reasons why he should have a sister and an equal number of reasons why he should have a baby brother.  “Well,” said our social worker, “I think he needs a baby sister!”  As it was her job to find his sister, we agreed.  We simply wanted a second child. I was sure I did not want to raise an only child.  I knew too many who were spoiled and demanding, without any understanding of how to share.

     We were in the process of building a house and in another city on vacation when the call came.  My Dad had a letter when we spoke on the phone.  “It looks important” he said, “from Family Service.”  Eagerly I had him open it, “Jeff’s sister is waiting, would you like to meet her?”  We were thrilled! This time we got to share with our small son and his excitement knew no boundaries.  We went straight home, but our home was not yet finished. 

     We discussed the dilemma with our social worker: as we had to stay in hotel while the house was completed, we wondered if we should move our new baby twice or leave her in the foster home that she had known since she was a month old.  The social worker decided it was best that she be moved only once.  She was a temperamental child and there was a big change coming, one move was enough.  In three weeks time we met our Judi, when I picked her up, my arms around her flew into the air, she was petite, tiny and adorable, a light weight compared to her big brother who was dancing around her with glee.

     Judi was not happy with the strangers who were trying desperately to show her some of the love she could expect. Tiny fists pounded on my chest, tears streamed down her beautiful face and finding her vocal chords, she clearly expressed her anguish.  Only when we arrived home and set her down on the couch did she show a sign that she had any idea that she was home.  The sobbing slowed, Jeff ran into the room, stood on his head and made a funny face for his sister and she giggled, sweet music to our ears.

     Judi and Jeff were completely different from one another, as they grew up to become adults, their differences were even clearer.  I look back in time, realize that my brother and I were exact opposites of each other in so many ways even though we shared the same sets of genes.  Judi and Jeff  had completely different genetics.  Their differences challenged and seduced us.  Our social worker had tried to match them physically, they were both blond babies, they had brown eyes, she was tiny, he was big. After their birth mothers signed papers when they were a month old, they spent the next seven months in the same foster home, at different times of course.

     As they grew, they each developed in their own way, Jeff was slow to talk, Judi spoke early.  She walked earlier than Jeff.  Judi was very independent; Jeff was laid back and was more dependent on our good will and approval.  Judi taught herself to ride the bike, while Jeff waited for our help.  As growing kids, Jeff was willing to engage in discussion with a demanding parent; Judi was more impatient and when she did not like a command or demand, she frequently picked up the dog, went into her room and slammed the door. I am sure our pup was a willing listener.  Judi loved Sugie very much.

     Never once during their growing years did we ever regret having adopted our children.  I cannot imagine a life, a married life without children.  They both grew into adults with goals and ideas about life that were opposite, one from the other.  I believe we gave them a home that allowed them to grow into their genetics, encouraged them to be the best that they could.  Jeff was gay, we tried and succeeded in supporting him and accepting the lifestyle that I would not have chosen for him.  When he drove a large truck across country, I asked him once if he was ever afraid, afraid that his homosexuality showed.  He answered that he was worried and scared every time he and his fellow driver entered a truck stop for a meal. Sadly our wonderful son died at age 43 from the AIDS virus.

     When we kept a promise to Judi and allowed her to go on a floating campus after high school without us as chaperons, we made a huge mistake.  She was a gorgeous girl, almost 18 year-old woman, inexperienced and vulnerable.  The trip around the world taught her all the things in life we had tried and failed to teach. Today, Judi is truly a beautiful woman who has become independent, thinks creatively and handles her life with good sense.  She has a troubled son whom she loves without boundaries.  That is how children should be loved and what we tried to accomplish with Judi and Jeff.

     Yes, to the readers’ question, they knew they were adopted, chosen even before they understood the words.  We all smiled when strangers would exclaim “he looks so much like his father!”  And if they would ask, “Whom does she look like?”  I would answer, “She is special,  looks like herself!”