When your spouse's discernment closes a door you still want open
We will not have more children.
We will not adopt more children.
The season of growing our family is over.
It is done.
I am done.
Those few sentences took more time for me to type than you would expect. Even the act of physically typing this blog post is a reminder that it’s still emotional, hard to digest, and I’m still left with a longing that will never be extinguished.
Discernment within a marriage is not always “fair” or easy. Especially when you may feel as if the discernment process was not equally yoked. How can my desires not align with my spouse; the person my soul is so intimately intertwined with? We both entered into the same covenant with God. We should be on the same page. Right?
Sean and I have three beautiful children through the amazing sacrifice of adoption. Our family grew at a rapid pace. We welcomed three children through adoption in four years; none of our children are biologically related. It was a true whirlwind. Two of our children came to us (years apart) when they were 5 years old, and in stark contrast, Sean cut the umbilical cord for our youngest, Mitchell. We watched him take his first breath.
Mitchell was born in 2023 and was our second adoption. Today he’s a very active, funny, vibrant 3-year-old boy. Even though we do not share skin tones, I see more of myself and Sean in him than I do in my other children. He has so much of our personalities (and my dance moves) and sees the world through our lens. We are all he has ever known. He did not experience the trauma that my two other fighters did. With Mitchell, I experienced something I never got to experience with my older two: parenting a child from the very beginning, watching him grow, and getting to shape those early years alongside him.
The newborn months and toddler years go fast. I blinked and mine are completely over. I’ll never experience them again. I blinked and all of the sudden I’ve been catapulted into the “middle ground” of raising a family. I have a 9, a 7, and a 3 year-old. I blinked and lost years. This is such an interesting phenomenon and I’m not quite sure if it makes sense to anyone else. I’ve been robbed.
It’s strange to think of the life I grew up dreaming about. Typically, you get married and in a few months/years: surprise! You’re pregnant! Then you have a baby, give it a few years and boom, now you have your hands full with two little ones! Then perhaps a third comes along (maybe more) and before you know it you’ve spent 6-8 years with a baby in your home. That's the life I expected. That's the life infertility robbed me of.
I tell my oldest two all the time that if I could have been there when they were born, I would snap my fingers and be there in a heartbeat. They know I mean that. However, that time was not meant for me. I did not get to experience half a decade with either of them. I can’t think of that too much because if I’m being honest with you, it still doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I was chosen to be their mother, so why wasn’t I chosen to be their birth mother? These are questions I have for God (and I have a lot of them).
About the time Mitchell turned 3, I started feeling the “itch”. It was time to have another baby. I have boxes of baby clothes in the closet for this moment. If it’s a boy, we will be all set! Bottles are packed and ready to be reopened; he just moved up in car seat size so the newborn one is available! The crib is still in the garage along with all the little accessories that end up being clutter. It’s time and I’m excited.
When I approached my husband, he very directly told me that if I started the adoption process again, he would not be part of it. He was done. Our family was complete. We have our hands full and he felt it would be irresponsible to have another. In his mind, it did not make sense financially, mentally or physically (as of now, each child has their own room in our house). He was serious. I knew he meant every word. He did not need to discern what he already knew. He was resolute. Our time growing our family had come to an end. He did not consider the other options.
This was tough. I had felt ready to jump into adoption number four. I grieved for months. Perhaps I’m still grieving…
I had countless conversations with God and recognized in my husband something I had, until that moment, only seen in myself. With our three adoptions I had been resolute. I did not need to discern what I already knew; they were happening. He had eventually got on board each time, but admittedly this process took longer for him. This time the script was flipped, and he drew the line in the sand that I would never cross. He did not waiver.
We made vows on our wedding day that we both meant and still live by. Many days they bring a call to action: sacrifice. When two imperfect humans enter into a lifelong commitment to God and each other, there are bound to be moments of differentiating opinions. It’s not easy when these different opinions change the trajectory of your whole life.
I do not want children at the expense of our marriage. My husband recognizes his limits and I truly admire him for being direct. Our discernment did not align and I’m not entirely sure it ever will. But there is still more room in my heart for children.
I’ve forced myself into truly diving into the life I currently have. Traveling deeper into service for others and into the call of my vocation. Lately this has meant completely uprooting my career and shifting my own career aspirations into a different “someday” as my personal life became the forefront.
I’ve asked for the peace to be okay with it and God has granted this peace. I’m thankful. After the first initial months of realizing this dream was over for me and grieving that loss, I can say I hardly think of it now. Actually the idea for this blog post came from chatting with a couple who also were not aligned on next steps. It’s something many Catholic couples experience but I hear few talk about. However, just because it is not talked about doesn’t mean it does not exist.
Sean and I love each other deeply. His response to my wanting to begin a fourth adoption process was not rude, hateful or done out of ill intent or manipulation. He set a firm boundary. He recognized and trusted his limits. This is a skill that has typically been hard for him. It takes massive honesty to express or draw your “line in the sand” in this manner especially to a partner you love deeply. Especially to someone you do not want to hurt or end a dream. The sacrament of marriage comes with a beautiful gift: grace.
My dream of adding onto our family has come to an end.
We will not have more children.
We will not adopt more children.
The season of growing our family is over.
It is done.
I am done.
