I'm watching a movie called The Shunning on Netflix. It's about a girl raised in an Amish household and community who finds out that she was adopted.
As I watched this, I happened to be cutting pictures out of October's issue of Vogue and stumbled across an article about a couple who pursued domestic adoption. The woman writing it explained the very difficult path they had walked after finding out about their infertility and the choices they made, the profile they filled out which listed the races, ages and conditions they would accept... No drug or alcohol use, any races, newborns.... And, despite the fact that I knew this woman was so much like me, a mother at heart, someone who could not bear children, to all appearances at least reasonably stable and responsible financially, I found myself so angry at this woman.... So angry. It's not her fault she didn't spend time in the foster care system, it's not her fault she didn't grow up knowing anyone with Downs syndrome, or in a wheel chair.... These things aren't her fault, and, really, her life is better for the lack of those struggles. Yet, to a woman who's been there, but doesn't have the financial ability to pay for adoption, turning a child away.... even a child with Downs syndrome... a child who struggles to live is the strongest of children, and children with Downs... there are no happier people on this planet than those who live with this syndrome. The love of a child, taking a child home and knowing that this child will not face the wrath of foster homes, or the misery of abuse at the hands of their parents, what more can you really want? Your child will love you whether or not you struggle for money, whether or not you're bloated, tired, cranky,if you have zits or a perfect complexion, whether you're a dog person, a cat person or don't particularly care for animals at all.... They won't judge you for the things potential dates might judge you on, or employers--- well, at least not until they hit their teens.
I am looking forward to becoming a foster mother. I know too well that it will be challenging, but I also know that, no matter what challenges I face in this experience, the children who aren't wanted, aren't loved or simply can't be taken care of by their biological families are those who are most in need of a home, of love, and of anything else I can give them.
So, as I transition, all-too-slowly, out of the US Army, I know that this path is the right one for me. The path of loving children who, like I have, believe themselves to be unlovable, or who's families cannot care for them, or who have already survived the unsurvivable... that's where I will come in.