A few years ago, I found myself at a breaking point. Despite having faced challenges in the past, nothing compared to the overwhelming depression I felt after my daughter, Emily, was diagnosed with PCDH19, a rare and severe epilepsy that carries no cure and can be life-threatening. As I struggled to comprehend the implications of this diagnosis for her and our family, I sought help from a counselor. During my third session, he suggested, quite insensitively, that I might consider “rehoming” Emily. He argued that my stress stemmed largely from her condition and that relinquishing her to another family could alleviate my suffering. That was the last time I stepped into his office.
The concept he mentioned, known as rehoming, involves parents giving up their adopted children, often due to unforeseen psychological issues that arise from past traumas. This practice is fraught with risks, frequently occurring without any oversight from governmental or child welfare agencies, and can have devastating consequences for vulnerable children.
While I believe the counselor had good intentions, I found it deeply offensive for someone to suggest abandoning my child to ease my own burden. Such a notion reflects a broader misunderstanding that family bonds, whether biological or adopted, are meant to be permanent. For me, there is no distinction between Emily and my biological children; they are all my children.
Before Emily entered our lives, I had long envisioned her future. I would often sneak into her nursery, which sat empty, and pray for the daughter I hoped to raise. I bought books about inspiring women to share with her, imagining the strong and remarkable person she would become. I was her mother long before I ever held her.
When Emily arrived, she was deeply troubled. She often screamed, displayed aggressive behaviors, and even lashed out physically. During her first therapy session, she shocked everyone by flipping off her counselor. Despite the challenges, she was my daughter, and I was committed to her.
As Emily’s condition worsened, including episodes of seizures, I experienced a fear that only a parent can understand—watching your child teeter on the edge of life. I spent countless nights at her hospital bedside, praying for her recovery, not because I was obligated as her foster parent, but because I believed that a child needs their mother during such critical times. When we were presented with the option to step away from the adoption, I knew that I could not abandon her after being her only mother for a year and a half. My husband and I went on to officially adopt Emily and her younger brother, uncertain of what lay ahead.
What my former therapist failed to recognize is that for our family, adoption is a lifelong commitment. While the journey can be incredibly challenging, it is essential for adopted children to receive support rather than face the threat of being sent away. When rehoming is considered an option, child welfare systems may neglect to provide necessary services, leading to a cycle of instability for children in need.
Families like mine should not be viewed as temporary solutions. Suggesting that parents return their adopted children, as one might do with an unruly pet, is not only disrespectful but also harmful. I would never consider abandoning my biological son, and my adopted children deserve the same unwavering commitment. Each of them is mine forever, and to imply otherwise is deeply hurtful.
Months after we finalized Emily’s adoption, we received her genetic test results, which confirmed her diagnosis. Despite the weight of this news, I was unwavering in my commitment. Even in the face of uncertainty, I would not change my decision to adopt her.
Each morning, I approach Emily’s room with a mix of hope and fear, praying that she is still with us and that the seizures have not taken her from me. The pain of living with this fear is profound and likely will never fade. However, I refuse to consider relinquishing my child simply because the journey is fraught with difficulty. While the future remains uncertain, my commitment to Emily is steadfast, and I am in this for the long haul.
This narrative emphasizes the importance of recognizing that family bonds, especially those formed through adoption, should be treated with the utmost respect and understanding. For those interested in exploring related topics, you can find valuable insights in our other post on home insemination. Additionally, if you’re seeking expert advice on fertility, I recommend visiting Make A Mom for more information. Resources like Progyny also provide excellent support for those navigating the complexities of pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
The author shares a deeply personal account of their journey with their adopted daughter, Emily, who was diagnosed with a severe form of epilepsy. The narrative highlights the emotional toll of parenting a child with significant challenges and critiques the idea of rehoming adopted children as a solution to parental stress. The author firmly believes in the permanence of family bonds and the importance of supporting adopted children rather than abandoning them.