A few years ago, I found myself in a deep and overwhelming despair when I sought help from a counselor. Although I had faced challenges before, none compared to the darkness I was experiencing. My 5-year-old daughter, Mia, had just been diagnosed with PCDH19—a rare, severe type of epilepsy that is incurable and can be life-threatening. As I tried to comprehend what this meant for my little girl and our family, I felt like I was crumbling.
During my third session, my counselor suggested I consider “rehoming” her. He claimed that most of my stress stemmed from Mia and her condition, implying that if I placed her with another family, my struggles would ease. At that moment, I decided I would never return to that therapist’s office again.
What this counselor was proposing is known as rehoming—a controversial practice where some adoptive parents relinquish their children due to unmanageable challenges. This often occurs when families are unprepared for the severe psychological issues that may arise from previous trauma or when they cannot access necessary support services. Tragically, rehoming typically happens without any oversight, leading to devastating consequences for the children involved.
While I understand that his suggestion may have come from a place of concern, it felt deeply offensive as a mother. The idea of abandoning my child to alleviate my own pain was both shocking and hurtful. Some people fail to grasp that family connections are everlasting, regardless of biological ties. To me, there is no distinction between the children I adopted and the one I gave birth to.
Long before Mia entered my life, I would sneak into our empty nursery and pray for the daughter I knew would one day fill it. I collected books about inspiring women, eager to share their stories with her. I envisioned the strong and incredible individual she would grow to become. I was her mother long before I held her in my arms.
When Mia arrived, she was a whirlwind of turmoil. She screamed incessantly, lashed out at me, and expressed her frustration in ways that were hard to bear. The first time we visited a therapist, my little girl walked in and defiantly flipped off the counselor. Despite the challenges, she was mine.
When her seizures began, I experienced a fear that only a mother could understand—watching her child flirt with the brink of death. I spent countless nights by Mia’s hospital bed, listening to the beeping machines and praying for her recovery. I didn’t do this out of obligation; I was there because I believed that every child deserves their mother by their side in times of crisis, and that was my role. As her health worsened, our caseworker suggested we consider stepping back. We had an opportunity to walk away, but I had been Mia’s only mom for a year and a half. My husband and I decided to adopt her and her younger brother a few months later, even with uncertainty ahead.
What my former counselor failed to grasp is that for our family, adoption is a lifelong commitment. Yes, adopted children can be incredibly challenging, pushing us in ways we never anticipated. But instead of considering dissolution, we must seek support. When rehoming is seen as an option, adoption workers can hastily make placements that are unlikely to succeed. When families like ours are perceived as temporary arrangements, it becomes too easy for well-meaning friends and professionals to suggest returning our children to the state, as if they were simply misbehaving pets. My children are not disposable; I would never consider sending my biological son away due to challenges, and my adopted children deserve that same commitment.
Months after our adoption was finalized, we received Mia’s genetic testing results, confirming her diagnosis. Despite the weight of the world on my shoulders, someone asked if I regretted adopting her. My answer was a firm no. No matter the hurdles we may face, she is my daughter.
Each morning as I wake Mia, I pause at her door, sending up a prayer that she is still breathing, that the seizures haven’t won while I slept. This pain lingers; it likely always will. But I refuse to consider letting go of my child simply because living with the fear of losing her is daunting. I may not know where this journey will lead us, but I am committed to walking it with her until the end.
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Summary:
The narrative emphasizes the enduring commitment of adoptive parents, highlighting the challenges faced by families of children with severe conditions. It critiques the concept of rehoming, reaffirming that family bonds transcend biological ties. The piece shares a mother’s unwavering dedication to her adopted daughter, despite the hardships they endure together.