“Wait, you really knew? And you still decided to go ahead?” I felt a bit uneasy as I conversed with this new acquaintance. “Wouldn’t you do the same if it was your daughter?” The woman stared at me, her mouth slightly agape.
Any moment now, I thought. Here it comes…
She took a deep breath and said, as countless others have over the past several months: “You and your partner are such heroes!”
Her comment was in reference to our decision to adopt Mira, a beautiful 5-year-old girl from Armenia. Mira has spina bifida, hydrocephalus, and congenital scoliosis, among other challenges (for instance, her body produces almost no growth hormones, which means that at nearly 6 years old, she is the same size as her sturdy siblings were at just 15 months). She cannot stand or walk and requires constant medical care.
My partner Jake and I are young, educated, middle-class, well-traveled, and have many opportunities ahead of us. As a military family, we often find ourselves far from relatives, deal with frequent moves, and sometimes face long deployments. We both enjoy staying active and are passionate about long-distance running (Jake even dreams of competing in a reality show someday!). Moreover, the adoption process drained our savings, and we already had our hands full with three young children aged 3 to 8 before welcoming Mira into our lives, fully aware of the lifelong commitment her medical needs would entail.
These circumstances often elicit disbelief and unwarranted praise when people hear our story. Many can’t fathom why we would choose this path and invest in it financially. I should be accustomed to this reaction by now; I watched my own parents receive similar praise when they adopted my siblings.
But I’m not, and here’s why.
Let’s be clear: Jake and I are just as flawed as anyone else. We have disagreements about how to parent. We sometimes lose our tempers. We occasionally forget to secure a referral from our insurance before taking Mira to a specialist. Her charm doesn’t always make up for our impatience. We didn’t speak Armenian when we started this journey and were complete novices in dealing with spina bifida.
Beyond that, we were terrified at various points in the adoption process.
From the very start, Jake and I both felt deep down that Mira was meant to be part of our family. But that doesn’t mean everything was easy. We were afraid—not of being unprepared (since every parent, biological or adoptive, feels that way) or of what Mira’s medical conditions would entail, but because we worried we might not be enough for her.
The reality is that we are imperfect, beautifully flawed humans. All of us are. Jake and I simply chose to say yes, despite feeling every ounce of fear. We kept pushing forward, trying to learn and grow, knowing that retreating would haunt us far more than any mistakes we could make with Mira.
When people label us as heroes for adopting a child with disabilities, they inadvertently excuse themselves from taking similar actions. It’s as if they’re saying, “Only remarkable people like Jamie and Jake adopt, so since I’m not remarkable, I guess I can’t or won’t!”
This perspective is concerning because by placing us on a pedestal, they are closing off their own potential—and that of any child who could one day enrich their lives in ways they never imagined.
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In summary, while our choice to adopt has drawn admiration, it’s crucial to understand that we are not saints. We are just ordinary individuals making difficult decisions in the name of love. Recognizing this opens the door for others to consider the transformative possibilities of adoption within their own lives.