Adoption – How Sweet the Sound! |
17 March 2008
Desley
Gear
PO Box 3107,
Hervey Bay 4655
Australia
"Adoption" – to me, one of
the sweetest words in the English language.
It is a reminder of two of the best things that ever happened in my
life. The first, and of greatest
importance, is of course being adopted into the family of God. Because of His marvellous grace, He adopted
me into His family and I have found Him to be the same wonderful Heavenly
Father that millions of others have, throughout the world, from the beginning
of time.
The second happened in time some years
earlier. At the age of three weeks, I
went home to join a family of a mother, father, and two older brothers. My parents had been called in to the hospital
within a couple of days of my birth.
They would have taken me home immediately, but the matron
advised that they should go on their planned 2-week holiday without me,
since it was quite a
cold winter, and I was fairly small.
They could hardly wait for that holiday to end!
My childhood was a very happy
one. I think it would be fair to say
that I was spoilt, though I was never allowed to get away with bad
behaviour. Mum was a strict
disciplinarian, but she was also a doting mother, who loved to dress me up like
a little doll. To this day, I still have
the two books she kept with lists of all my birthday/Christmas/Easter gifts,
and of all the dresses she made for me (with a description of colour, style,
trimming, etc., and the years in which she made them).
She had had several miscarriages over the years after my brothers were
born; one of her pregnancies went to 6 or 7 months. But she was determined one way or another to
have a girl. When the doctor said
"no more", they decided to apply for adoption. This was over fifty years ago, and not many
unmarried mothers kept their babies back then, so the waiting time was usually
not much more than a year. I grew up in
the security of a loving home with parents and brothers who cared greatly for
me.
At 18, I married my childhood
sweetheart, on my parents' 33rd wedding anniversary. No prouder Dad ever walked his little girl
down the aisle! My being married didn't
stop Mum and Dad from being there whenever we needed them and showing interest
in everything we did. Four years later
when our first of three children was born, they became doting grandparents, as
they already were to their other grandchildren.
One day our daughter asked me,
"Mummy, who was your 'real' mother?"
My reply was, "You know my 'real' mother; Grandma is my real
mother. She's the one who took me into her home and who loved and cared
for me, and who put up with me when I didn't deserve her love. And that's what makes a 'real' mother."
In the 1980s my husband had major
heart surgery three times – once while we were living overseas. My parents' immediate response was to travel
halfway round the world and be with us while he had the operation and for a few
weeks after. Their support was
invaluable, since we were only in our 30s with young children and no family
outside
My mother died at age 77. I wish she could have lived longer and that I
could have cared for her in her old age, but that wasn't to be. Dad lived another 14 years, and for the last
12 of those years, I had the privilege of caring for him. His last 2 years were very full-on care; he
was able to do almost nothing for himself – showering, toilet, brushing
teeth. But every day I thanked God that
I was able to do these things for him, and in some small way to express
gratitude for all that he did for me throughout my life.
With a somewhat debilitating, terminal illness myself, there were
occasional days when I couldn't get out of bed.
And then my husband had two of us to care for, as well as going to
work. But we managed through those
difficult days.
We always talked about and looked
forward to celebrating Dad's 100th, but 2 years ago he passed away at 95. His mind was so sharp right to the end, even
though the body had become weak. He was
a gentle, happy man, who was admired and respected not only in his home town
where he lived his whole life, but throughout the state and beyond. His formal education finished at grade 6, but
that didn't stop his creativity. Some of
his early machinery inventions became the basis for later developments in an
industry where the family name has become known in several countries.
In the last few years of his life he
went to day respite a few times a week, to enjoy the company of other elderly
folk, and to give me a break. One day,
each client at the centre was asked what they considered to be their greatest
achievement in life, or the best day of their life. He came home and told me that his answer was,
"The day we adopted Desley." I
thought he might have said, "My wedding day" or "The day I
demonstrated my first successful machine".
But no, the day he got his little girl was his best day, according to
him.
Do I have any regrets about being
adopted in infancy? Yes, as I look back
I have two regrets – 1) that I was a cheeky, disobedient child and a
rebellious, obnoxious teenager; and 2) that I didn't have more years to show
appreciation and love for my wonderful parents.
I have several friends aged between
mid 30s and mid 60s who also are adopted.
All of them have had good lives with their adoptive families. Two traced their birth mothers; one had a
very happy experience, the other most disappointing.
Have I ever tried to find the lady
who gave me up for adoption? No, but I
would be quite happy to meet her if our paths crossed. In fact, it may be helpful for my children to
have some knowledge of the medical history of their blood relatives. So Ann, if you're still alive, and you ever
read this story, I just want to say "thank you" from the bottom of my
heart, for your unselfishness in handing little Jennifer over to the two best
parents any girl ever had.
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