Do you believe in fate, in destiny, that some things in life are just meant to be?
Not at all.
In fact I believe that our lives are completely random and it is up to us to drive them in the right direction.
Why then do I feel as if there is something out there trying to steer my life, family’s life, if not to a different destination, at least on a totally different route to said destination?
I am talking, obviously (said with a large dose of sarcasm and a rather French shrug of the arms), about adoption.
Adoption, much like the word ‘children’, used to be something I though of only in the abstract. It was one of those things that I was aware existed but, much like lottery wins and Aids, only happened to other people, people I didn’t know. As I grew and matured some of these things that only happened to other people started happening to people I knew (sadly no lottery wins) but the other stuff, the illnesses, the pregnancies, the big things in life; but adoption was never one of them.
During my travels to Africa and South America, having seen all the poverty, pain and disease I never once thought about adopting one of these poor children.
Throughout the new
A few weeks ago I was watching a BBC documentary on breastfeeding, I believe it was called “Extraordinary Breastfeeding”, which awoke all sports of emotions in me, mostly about my reactions to breastfeeding which I wrote about here. However, once the emotional dust had settled and I took stock of what was left, the one thing that stood out from the documentary was the part about adoption.
Ever since, it seems to be a nagging thought just on the brink of my conscious mind and everywhere I turn, every new blog I read, documentary I watch, newspaper I pick up seems to have an adoption element to it and with it a tirade of questions, doubts and fears invading my brain.
I don’t know if “I can do that”, I don’t know if I have what it takes to be a mother to someone who I didn’t carry around inside me, to someone who isn’t a part of me. Could I really love ‘an outsider’ as much as I love Little Moo? Would I be able to accept him or her completely, not pick favourites or take sides in arguments? And what about Husband? Could he do that? What if I asked him and he said that he couldn’t? Could I still love him as much if I knew that about him?
And yet with all these nagging doubts and fears, I really can’t get that thought out of my head.
Are some things just meant to be?
When not chasing reindeer out of her garden, cows around the field or her baby through the house, Heather can be found over at her blog Surviving Motherhood, where some days the only way to survive is by cracking open the wine. Who says white wine and cornflakes don't go together?