Hello from Derek & Emilie! This is our adoption story.

I grew up believing adoption is an absolutely normal way to build a family. My own father was adopted. My grandparents were kind and loving people, but also very average. They were just two down-to-earth people from rural Alberta who decided to be obedient to what God asked them to do. The way they talked about my dad’s adoption was very matter of fact- yup we just went for it. Little did they know the impact they would have and the legacy they would leave.

Years later, my own husband and I embarked on our own adoption journey. As a couple, the decision to adopt was an easy one for us, but it led to many other questions that weren’t so easy to answer. When is the “right time”? Do we have enough money? Do we choose domestic or international adoption? What country program do we pick? And the biggest one for us… what “kind” of child are we open to accepting into our home? That last question felt unnatural. I remember sitting at the kitchen table with pen in hand staring at a checklist. Our social worker told us to be honest with ourselves and what we can handle, trying to normalize this awkward milestone in the adoption process… but all I could think is- How is this normal? We both really felt the weight of these decisions. I felt uncomfortably in control even though I trusted God was the one in control. I felt compassion for what each unchecked box meant.

After a lot of research and prayer, we decided to make ourselves available to a child with certain medical needs. I work as a nurse and we were confident it would be a good fit for our family. If not us, then who? Our international home study was officially completed in December of 2018, and a little less than 1 year later we received a proposal to adopt a little girl from Nigeria with Sickle Cell Anemia who was born extremely premature. As my grandparents would put it- we said YUP, and agreed with eager hearts.

As we were getting ready to travel to West Africa, we noticed something as we were going over the paperwork. We actually hadn’t indicated on our homestudy checklist that we would accept a child who was born premature. I will never forget this day- my husband and I were sitting on the sofa talking about this fact, when he jumped up and said he remembered something a complete stranger said to us 2 years ago at a church conference. Derek dug out his old dusty journal where he had written it down. It said that in about 2 years, God would be with us as we walk down a path that will be “out of the box”. I cried. The little girl we were matched with… was literally out of the box - outside the boxes we checked months ago.

I don’t believe God’s intention is for this child to have the need for adoption. But I do believe we were meant to adopt her. I live in this tension and I trust that he’s writing this story… and it’s not over yet!

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the concept of “love at first sight”. Do you believe in it? We don’t have biological children, but I’ve heard that often when a mother gives birth, there’s an instant connection. For our family, and our adoption, this just wasn’t the case. I’ve accepted that this is part of our story, the beautiful awkwardness that is adoption. And to be honest, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The day we received the first photo of our soon-to-be daughter will go down famously in our personal history books. We were absolutely elated, and don’t get me wrong… she’s incredibly cute. But I couldn’t get over the fact that she was a stranger. I grieved the lack of familiarity, sad that we missed the first two years of her life.

The day we drove up to the orphanage for the first time, I checked my expectations at the front gate. In the past, I had seen videos of parents filming their first meeting, or bringing along professional photographers to capture the special moment. At a time, I had also hoped for a romanticized moment like the first time a mother holds their baby, tears streaming down her face. But the closer we got to meeting this little girl, the more my prayers started to change. I prayed for peace, for calm. Not just for ourselves, as terrified first time parents, but for her sake. All adopted children have experienced trauma to some level, and Zoe was no exception. My dream of instant connection would have put unrealistic expectations on her as a child who’s been through trauma. She needed that moment to be as un-overwhelming as possible. So I’m thankful that it was. It was calm and as simple as it could have been. It wasn’t an instant connection, or “love at first sight”, but I will cherish the memories I have from that first day; saying hi for the first time, passing goldfish crackers to her timidly, and going for a walk in the yard. It was a spring board for deeper intimacy in our parent-child relationship. Over the coming months, our love for each other grew slowly, steadily, deeply. And she transformed before our very eyes.

As I write this, we are 7 months past that fateful first day, and I know our journey together is just starting. Attachment can take years. But I look forward to those years. Years of love, healing from trauma, experiencing each stage of life with thankfulness. I’ve been overwhelmed with the kind of love I assume a new mother feels, and I’m okay that it’s taken months. This love is worth waiting for. Zoe is worth waiting for.