On my forty-first birthday, I was single, childless, and aware that my childbearing days were nearly over. At the time, I realized I had two options: I could forsake my dream of motherhood and live a life without kids. Or I could push past my fears and reservations and decide to adopt. Which would it be?
After much soul-searching (and a little research), I gathered the courage to become a single mother. Even though I was terrified, I knew in my heart that motherhood was the one thing I truly wanted, and that I could not deny myself my deepest, most primal desire.
Once I made my decision, everything seemed to be going my way. I had a stable job that I loved; a boss, coworkers, parents, and friends who heartily championed my decision to adopt; and a New York City apartment spacious enough for a family. Miraculously, I’d even located a place — China — that allowed a woman of my age and marital status to adopt a baby girl.
Like many adoptive parents, I found my roundabout road to motherhood to be “fated” when I met eight-month-old Eleni Xue Jing on a hot, rainy morning in China. In the years that my daughter has lived with me, I’ve never once regretted my decision.
But as I stand here today, several years later, I marvel at how there was an opening — a fortuitous breach in my life — that gave me permission to move forward. I also reflect on how my world has changed since those seemingly innocent days. On September 11, 2001, I lost my sense of security when terrorists attacked my hometown. A short while after that, I lost my “stable” job. And, then, a few years down the line, my father — my biggest ally and the man in Eleni’s life — died suddenly, leaving me with many challenging responsibilities.
Looking back now, it’s hard to know whether I would have pursued my dreams had I foreseen these events in a crystal ball. But as I draw Eleni close to me, I shudder to think of what might have been had I not seized that perfect moment. Would I have felt too scared after the events of September 11? Too unstable after losing my job? Or too busy, burdened, and alone after the death of my dad?
Back when Eleni was still a baby, I had a momentary lapse of faith. My daughter had been crying the night through for weeks, and I felt lonely and defeated, not to mention tired. One day I confessed to a friend that I’d made a big mistake — that it was all too hard and that I never should have adopted Eleni. My friend, who was then in her seventies and who’d had both children and grandchildren, simply said, “None of us would have had children if we had known how hard it was. But we do it, and it all works out in the end.” After a while, we agreed — half-jokingly — that what we don’t know about the future can’t hurt us.
Surely, if I’d known certain things back then, I might have turned away from motherhood. Instead, I followed an inner voice that led me to China, to Eleni, and to all our experiences as a family. And, amazingly, when the going gets tough, Eleni is the force that keeps me going. Despite life’s difficulties, she reminds me that breakfast must be served at 7, homework must be done and a bath taken at night, that birthdays must be celebrated — and, when I need to hear it most, that “Yes, Mom. You have courage.”
