Love You More: The Divine Surprise of Adopting My Daughter
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About this ebook
A Stirring Memoir on Parenthood and the Invisible Threads that Bind Us to Those We Are Meant to Love
The obstacles, surprises, and moments of grace that Jennifer Grant experienced, working through the adoption process to bring home her daughter from Guatemala, forever changed her life.
Love You More tells Grant’s deeply personal story of adopting her daughter, Mia. The process confronted her notions about what family means, pushed her into uncomfortable places, and—despite the waiting, adjustments, and challenges of a blended family—brought abiding joy.
Written for all parents but especially those interested in adoption, Love You More includes discussion questions, tips for prospective adoptive parents, and suggestions for readers on how to reach out in love and support for the world’s most vulnerable people, including orphans.
“From page one of her courageously vulnerable, intoxicatingly funny memoir about faith and family, Jennifer Grant finds the God of grace in each pot of macaroni and cheese, sticky little hand, doctor’s visit, late-night lawn mowing, and unlikely friend-turned-family-member that decorate her life.”—Cathleen Falsani, author, Sin Boldly
“So much written about adoption seems to overlook this essential truth: adoption is about love. Jennifer Grant’s story demonstrates this in every sentence and paragraph and on every page. She tells a story that is smart, funny, and brutally honest.”—Jessica O’Dwyer, author, Mamalita
Jennifer Grant
Jennifer Grant is a journalist with an interest in parenting and family life. She writes a regular column and feature stories for the Chicago Tribune and is a guest blogger for Web sites, including Fulfill and Christianity Today's her.meneutics blog for women. A graduate of Wheaton College, she earned her masters in English at Southern Methodist University in Dallas. Jennifer and her husband have four children: three by birth and one, the youngest, by adoption.
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Reviews for Love You More
5 ratings1 review
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5This memoir is about a woman's journey through adopting a daughter from Guatemala and the changes in her life along the way. Grant already had three biological children of her own, but answers God's calling and adopts fourth child - a little girl. This book is written for parents of all kinds, but couples that are thinking about or have been through adoption will find Grant's personal story inspirational, but also very real.Grant shares herself very openly throughout the book and does not hold back on sharing her insecurities, doubts and battles with her own perceptions (as well as society's) of parenting. Grant does a great job of keeping God at the center of her story and sharing her real struggle to do God's Will. I enjoyed hearing her "voice" pour out of the pages. It felt very much like I was having a conversation with a close girlfriend. I appreciate that she does not hold back on the challenges of the adoption process.Also, I appreciated that Grant shared her heart for children living in poverty around the world. She provides resources for those interested in adoption, but also for those wanting to support organizations that work to positively impact the lives of children around the world.The only thing I didn't like about the book was that I felt like she jumped around a little bit and at times it was hard to figure out if she was flashing back or not. Overall:It was a great read for a new mother like myself even though God has not put on my heart to adopt. I definitely recommend it to parents of all kinds.
Book preview
Love You More - Jennifer Grant
Praise for Love You More
"Love You More is a powerful, tender, and eloquent memoir that captures the pain and angst and, ultimately, the triumph and overwhelming joy of family, faith, and adoption."
—MAURICE POSSLEY
AUTHOR, PULITZER PRIZE-WINNING JOURNALIST
"If you’re looking for a warm, cuddly story of the miracle of adoption, you should probably find a different book. Jennifer Grant doesn’t gloss over the hard truth that every adoption begins with a loss . . . Told with grace, humor, and a generous spirit, Love You More is a gift for every parent who has ever loved a child."
—CARLA BARNHILL
AUTHOR, THE MYTH OF THE PERFECT MOTHER
Tender, touching, and informative . . . It is a story that will make you laugh, give you goose bumps, and make you cry—sometimes within the span of a paragraph. More important it is a story of God’s movement within the heart of a woman and her family that leads to a divine destiny.
—ANITA LUSTREA
EXECUTIVE PRODUCER, COHOST, MIDDAY CONNECTION;
AUTHOR, WHAT WOMEN TELL ME
"I could not love Love You More more! Jennifer offers readers wisdom, wit, and laid-bare honesty, resulting in a beautiful book that not only shows the Divine at work in her family but also helps us all see the Divine at work in our own families."
—CARYN DAHLSTRAND RIVADENEIRA
AUTHOR, GRUMBLE HALLELUJAH AND MAMA’S GOT A FAKE I.D.
"Love You More is a wonderful story of family and faith, hope and love. For those considering adoption this book is both inspirational and practical. For the rest of us the book is a delightful and personal story of a very special family."
—DALE HANSON BOURKE
AUTHOR, EMBRACING YOUR SECOND CALLING
"If you are a mom or await the privilege, you will be captivated by Love You More. It is a love story, a story of a mother’s love—for God, herself, her husband, her children, her friends, and for a toddler living worlds away, awaiting her adoptive mother’s arrival. Read it and then pass it on to every mom you know."
—AMY HILBRICH DAVIS
MOTHER OF SEVEN; FOUNDER, CEO, INSPIRINGMOMS.COM
Anyone who has ever welcomed a child, whether through birth or adoption, will see herself in this sweet family memoir. Jennifer Grant’s story is not just about adoption but about how motherhood transforms us.
—KERI WYATT KENT
AUTHOR, BREATHE, REST, AND DEEPER INTO THE WORD
Using words in place of brushes, Jennifer Grant paints a compelling portrait of a loving family led by God’s invisible threads . . . Divine alignment . . . to adopt a baby born in another land.
—SQUIRE RUSHNELL
AUTHOR, WHEN GOD WINKS BOOK SERIES
"Jennifer Grant’s moving and memorable Love You More stirs your heart; her thoughtful and beautiful prose engages your mind and soul. This is a book that will touch anyone who has experienced more love for their family members than they can express in words. Thankfully, Grant has found a way to do so."
—HELEN LEE
AUTHOR, THE MISSIONAL MOM
Jennifer Grant writes beautifully and from the heart. Her journey through mothering, parenthood, family life, and the serendipity of adoption is shared with infinite wisdom and humor.
—CHRISTIE MELLOR
AUTHOR, THE THREE-MARTINI PLAYDATE
Love You More
THE DIVINE
SURPRISE OF ADOPTING
MY DAUGHTER
JENNIFER GRANT
9780849946448_INT_0003_001© 2011 Jennifer Grant
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Page design by Mandi Cofer.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail SpecialMarkets@ThomasNelson.com.
Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version®. © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Scripture quotations marked CEV are from the Contemporary English Version. © 1991 by the American Bible Society. Used by permission.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Grant, Jennifer.
Love you more : the divine surprise of adopting my daughter / Jennifer Grant.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN 978-0-8499-4644-8 (trade paper)
1. Grant, Jennifer. 2. Adoptive parents—United States—Biography. 3. Adoption—Religious aspects—Christianity. I. Title.
HV874.82.G73A3 2011
362.734092—dc22
[B]
2011007959
Printed in the United States of America
11 12 13 14 15 RRD 5 4 3 2 1
For Mia
Contents
Acknowledgments
A Conspicuous Family
PART ONE: STARTING THE JOURNEY
One Mowing the Lawn in the Dark
Two The Best Laid Plans
Three Parenting Genius, Dethroned
Four The Red Thread
Five A Whisper
PART TWO: WAITING FOR MIA
Six Where in the World Would We Find Her?
Seven Adoption: A Crime, a Necessary Evil, or a Miracle?
Eight The Waiting Is the Hardest Part
Nine Meeting Mia
Ten Homecoming
PART THREE: LEARNING TO KNOW
Eleven Honeymooners
Twelve Post-Adoption Blues
Thirteen Tummy Ladies and Other Kinds of Mothers
Fourteen Her Story
Fifteen Being Present
Epilogue She call you ‘Mom’?
Tips for Prospective Adoptive Parents
Discussion Questions
Resources
Notes
About the Author
Acknowledgments
So many people to thank before the music starts and they yank me off the stage.
First, thank you to my mom, Myrna Reid Grant, for uncountable gifts of prayer and love. Thank you to all of my Grant family—Julie and Chris Grant; Heather and Dan Hawthorne; Jillian, Meghan, and Alison Grant; and Julie and Drew Grant; Amanda and Charlie Zagnoli; and Torey, Nick, and Claire Grant. When I saw the photo of all of us from Heather and Dan’s wedding, I realized that God had truly made us a strong clan that will Stand Fast.
Thank you to Alethea and Larry Funck, generous people who don’t deserve such a flat, unappealing designation as in-laws.
I’m a daughter-in-law who is fortunate to love her husband’s mother and to feel unconditionally loved by her. Similarly, who knew my brother-in-law and sister-in-law would become two of my closest friends? Thank you to Brian Funck and Sara Hendren for abiding friendship—and for advice on early drafts of this book. I love you two and Graham, Winifred, and Malcolm more than I can say. Thanks to more Funcks and extended family in Pennsylvania for warmly welcoming me into the family more than two decades ago and supporting all of us during our adoption adventure—Rhoda Funck Meyer; Diane Keller, Nathan and Jenny Keller; Tom and Vivian Spahr, and Debbie and Brenda and families.
Thank you to friends who make my life so sweet. Tricia and Michael Benich—you are funny and true—and Tricia, that you told me that an early draft of this book made you laugh kept me writing on many crisis-of-confidence days. Thank you to Suzanne Ecklund for your bright spirit, dark humor, and for sermons that de-ice my heart. Thank you to Andrea Nelson LeRoy for a lifetime of friendship and for sharing Mildred—and so much more—with me. Thank you to Mark and Mary Lewis for knowing to hit the panic button when my voice gets very calm, some of the best vacations ever, and for walking along with us for so long. Olivia, Ruby, and Leah Lewis—you better know how much I love you. Thank you to Cathleen, Maury, and Vasco Possley for friendship, nicknames, and wrapping us in warmth in so many ways. Thank you to (Uncle) Jimmy Saba for being, truly, family and continuing to visit the Rumpus Suite despite the used magazines, generic bottles of water, and Tinker Toys in the futon. Thank you to Karen and Greg Halvorsen Schreck for your grace and support. Thank you to Magdalena and Teo Schreck for being your sweet selves. Thank you to Susan and Scott Shorney for longtime friendship—I’m grateful to be able to count Susan as a friend since Jessie’s Girl
came out. Thank you to Thaddaeus Vincent Smith for postcards, dancing bears, and the lavish way you spread jam on toast. Thank you to Jon Sweeney for being my friend ever since we drove around in your dad’s car listening to Lionel Richie and eating ice cream from White Hen Pantry. Thank you to Kathy and Jeremy Treat for your stunning friendship, text messages, and being excellent traveling partners. Coy and Cooper Treat and Nick and Jacob Reber—you are creative, compassionate, much-loved boys, and I’m lucky to know you.
Thank you to the members of The Thread. I’m grateful to sit at this (virtual) lunch table, and I love sharing the details of life every single day with you. You’re the most intelligent, faithful, creative, irreverent, beautiful bunch of oddballs I’ve ever known.
Thank you to fellow Redbud Writers Guild members. Angie Weszely, Anita Lustrea, Arloa Sutter, Caryn Dahlstrand Rivadeneira, Helen Lee, Karen Halvorsen Schreck, Keri Wyatt Kent, Melinda Schmidt, Princess Zulu, Shayne Moore, Suanne Camfield, and Tracey Biachi—it’s not possible to measure the influence you’ve had on my work. I am proud to be counted among you. (And I’m just plain fond of you.)
Thank you to the people who have been Mia’s cherished teachers, caregivers, and supporters, including Norma Cid, Wilma Linde, Linda Chase, Heather Kotula, Ariel Woodiwiss, Paul McKinney, Katie Ekstrand, Kim Swanson, Dianne Thornburg, Esther Harris, Barbara Anderson, Kylie Strating, Michele Gorman, Kathleen Leid, and Claire Siemer.
Thank you to my church family at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Glen Ellyn, especially Laurie Vanderlei for encouragement, love, and making it possible for us to meet Mia when she was still a baby, and to Catharine Phillips for prayers, poems, and friendship. Thank you to Adrian and Trey Buchanan, Joyce and David Fletcher, Elizabeth and Leo Lanzillo, and Cecilia and George Smith for journeying through happy—and very hard—times with us so faithfully.
Thank you to Susie Lane for the gift of letting me experience Vermont in October and, thereby, helping me to finish this book.
Thank you to my brother and agent Chris Grant for being extremely gifted at both. Thank you to Julie Busteed for tenaciously circulating the proposal that would grow into this book.
Thank you to Matt Baugher and Debbie Wickwire, who warmly welcomed me to Thomas Nelson. Thank you to Jennifer Stair for your precision and all you did to help me tell this story more clearly.
Finally, thank you to my dearest ones. Thank you, David, for taking me to the Wheaton Grand when I was twenty and telling me you wanted to marry me three weeks later. I love sharing this life with you—what a story it continues to make. Theo, Ian, Isabel, and Mia—you are my treasures.
I love you more.
A Conspicuous Family
It’s just life. One moment I’m standing in the frozen foods aisle, looking for puff pastry sheets or a bag of chopped spinach, and the next I’m fielding a delicate question from a stranger about my family or my reproductive health. When you become the parents of a child of another race, you become a conspicuous family,
a social worker said when my husband and I began the adoption process. Are you ready for that?
I said I was, but it still throws me that seeing my family can have the effect of causing perfectly well-mannered people to turn off their filters and use their outside voices
to express whatever thoughts pop into their heads.
Couldn’t you have another one of your own?
Where did you get her?
How much was she?
Have you ever met her real mother?
Does she speak English?
Without exception, the curious, frozen-lima-bean-buying stranger’s tone quickly changes from alarmed to friendly when I answer her question. I adopted Mia when she was a toddler, I explain. She was born in Guatemala. She belongs to me as much as my three older children, to whom I gave birth, do. Often the person who blurted out her question reveals that she has a sister, a neighbor, or a friend who is considering adoption. We chat a bit, she smiles at Mia and says how beautiful she is, and we go our separate ways. I then try to remember what I was looking for in the first place. Frozen blueberries? Pizza? Edamame?
I only felt bruised by a stranger’s comments once. It wasn’t so much what he said, but his icy tone that bothered me. He stood in line ahead of me at the post office, turned and regarded my four children, and said, One of them doesn’t match.
Fortunately, my kids were too young or too distracted by the display of commemorative Elvis stamps to have heard him. The man continued to stare at us until a clerk called out the number printed on the tag in his hand. At first, his comment and his disapproving glare felt like a kick in the stomach, but by the time he was walking out of the post office, I was smiling to myself. I have a secret that protects my heart from people like him: even if the members of my family don’t match,
we are perfectly coordinated, chosen to be together. I have no doubt about it.
Anna Karenina is my favorite novel, bar none, but it begins with a lousy first sentence. With easy authority, Tolstoy writes, Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
Every time my eyes pass over those first fourteen words, a buzzer goes off in my head. Actually, it is less a buzzer and more like someone has struck Chuck Barris’s big brass gong. (Remember The Gong Show? Gene, Gene the Dancing Machine
?) My point is that when I read happy families are all alike,
I know it is just not true.
That statement sounds so permanent, so definitive, so set. Life’s not like that. Families are ever in process, ducking and taking cover during times of grief and hardship and casually strolling through easier times, forgetting to notice how fortunate they are. Things change, flip horizontally, upend themselves. On ordinary days, as well as on life-changing ones, just when we think we know what our lives are like, things change. And our pliable, stretchy hearts strain to take it all in. We scramble to figure out what will be the new normal from then on.
Take caring of a baby, for example. From five to seven every evening for what feels like a year, your baby wails. It’s a swirling cycle of fury and woe that you’re nearly certain has cost you your eardrums. Every night you and your spouse take turns eating whatever meal one of you has managed to prepare. Dinner at your place, pre-baby, was gourmet. Now you are living on the kinds of meals most often found on a kids menu. At a pancake house. Then one day, you open the doorway jumper that the neighbor gave you as a shower gift. You hang it up and test it several thousand times with phone books and stuffed animals. After it has met your safety inspection, you lower the screaming baby into it. The baby looks shocked, and you fear he will only cry harder. You give it a hesitant bounce and then the unthinkable happens: he stops crying.
You and your husband look at each other. You scrape the untouched applesauce and macaroni and cheese off your plates and take some real food out of the refrigerator. Arugula. Goat cheese. Balsamic vinegar. For the next two hours, you and your husband linger over dinner, talk about topics unrelated to colic, and can barely believe your luck.
Ah, you think. The hard bit is over.
You have it all figured out.
But things change, don’t they? After three glorious weeks, you glance over at the baby during dinner and see that he is climbing out of the jumper. He has one leg completely freed and is careening quickly toward the ground. You drop your fork, catch him just before his head makes contact with the floor, and spend the next half hour reconsidering your position on playpens . . . and on parenthood in general.
Why did we do this thing again?
Life never stops changing. It’s a challenge even when everything goes reasonably well and tragedy hasn’t struck your family, violently tearing it apart the way lightning can split trees in a storm.
So, Mr. Tolstoy, as much as I adore Anna’s story and marvel at the depth of the characters who surround her, I wonder how you could make such a statement about families, happy or otherwise. It’s a statement that suggests that families can be categorized simply, evaluated from outside. But you cannot know what is going on inside someone’s home unless you are deep on the inside of it and unless it is your own.
Maybe a family is conspicuous, and maybe it doesn’t seem to match.
Indeed, increasingly, families come in all shapes, shades, and sizes. But for better and worse, each family is certainly happy—and unhappy—in its own way. What’s more, I don’t think families ever fit so tidily into either a happy
or unhappy
column. Happiness is a fluid thing, isn’t it? Doesn’t it go in cycles? It certainly has in my experience.
Expanding my family by adoption pushed me into uncomfortable places, challenged my notions about what family means, and brought abiding happiness. Like all true ones, my story is comprised of joyful moments and times of deep longing and pain. Adoption was new to me. As an optimist who was confident in her parenting skills, I only half-listened to warnings from professionals about everything from the unpredictability of the adoption process to the grief my new baby might experience after being separated from her foster family. (Sure, sure. Maybe she will miss them a bit at first, but they were never her real family. For them, it was just a job.) I nodded solemnly at all the cautionary tales, but I entered into the process expecting that our case would go quickly, she would attach quickly, and all would be well. Quickly.
After all, the decision to adopt was not my idea, really. I was merely responding to a tap on the shoulder from God. I was sure of it. Wouldn’t God, then, expedite the whole thing? I knew God could. But Mia’s adoption ran into snags. Documents had to be checked again and again. Holidays closed down courts and businesses for days and sometimes weeks. These delays were not even comparable to what parents who adopt from China or Nepal have experienced over the past few years. There was no intergovernmental red tape or uncertainty going on in our adoption, just lawyers and judges doing their jobs. (Anyway, wasn’t it me who researched ethical violations in Guatemalan adoptions and wanted to be as certain as I could that ours was legitimate? Shouldn’t I have been grateful that everyone was being so attentive to detail?) Somewhere along the line, however, it was no longer about obedience to God or respecting a careful process. I had fallen in love with the daughter I hadn’t even met.
And I had to wait. But wasn’t God aware that waiting wasn’t my specialty? Didn’t God recall that I was the one who always cut the classes I found dull? That I was a champion skimmer of textbooks and instruction booklets? That I grew restless in boring meetings? I liked doing things my way. Thinking fast. Making things happen. Skipping to the good parts.
When something was too tedious, no matter what its ultimate benefits