An Adoption Story
Memoir
Date Published: October 22, 2024
Publisher: Double Entendre Ink
A twin herself, Lisa Crawford Watson believes she has the insight needed to mother twins. Mounting obstacles impede the adoption process, and she examines whether such setbacks are signs that she shouldn’t adopt. But when identical twin infant sisters in need of a permanent, stable home come into her life, she falls in love with them and knows what she must do.
Adopting premature twin girls who were born drug- and alcohol-addicted, and jostled, separately, from foster home to foster home, creates one hardship after another. Lisa quickly learns that raising children is a feat of sacrifice and unpredictability, and caring for children born into trauma may be more difficult than she ever could have imagined. Over the years, the twins wreak havoc on every relationship within the family and on Lisa’s heart. Has adopting the girls caused more harm than good?
What We Wished For: An Adoption Story shares a woman’s quest to build a loving family. It is a tale of courage, perseverance, and what remains when things don’t go as imagined. This memoir speaks to anyone who has ever struggled with a life-altering decision, one from which there is no turning back.
We didn’t notice the late-night darkness softening into dawn, as we continued to talk about how ill-equipped we felt to parent these abandoned little girls. And we let fear justify that they deserved someone better to raise them. We thought about all the people at home, waiting to hear what we’d decided and pretty much expecting us to bring home the babies.
We talked and stressed into the daylight, yet our moods felt increasingly sad, disappointed, dark.
We felt very clear that a decision not to adopt Hilary and Hayley would be a decision not to adopt at all. These babies were in desperate need of mature, loving, devoted parents in the mental, emotional, financial position to care for them. Was that us? We knew a decision not to adopt them would have nothing to do with them. It would be about us and our perceived inability to do this. Were we just too self-centered?
So, we would go on with our lives, and Hilary and Hayley would, what?
Were we their only hope for getting out of foster care and into a loving home? What had made us think we were equipped to give them what they needed? Or wanted? What if they grew up disconnected from us by our not looking like them? What if raising brown children in a white community was damaging to their identity? What if it perpetuated their feeling of not belonging to anyone or anywhere? I found myself hoping, if not believing, that being identical twins might give them each someone to belong to, help them develop a sense of self.
But what if our decision to adopt them, to give them the loving home we thought they deserved, turned out to be a selfish decision? We were not just altering our lives, here. Adopting Hilary and Hayley would put them on a particular life path. And, while they would not want for love, they might spend the rest of their lives wishing Beyonce or JLo was their mom. But then, who wouldn’t?
Tired of talking, of what-iffing, and of evaluating our whole lives, we got up. Silently, we dressed, packed up our bags, and emerged into the living room that created space between our bedroom and the babies’. We sat on the couch and, maybe believing we had absolutely nothing left to say, we said nothing. I studied the gold bands on my left hand, one plain and one with two tiny inlaid sapphires and a diamond, modeled after my older sister’s Austrian wedding bands. I spun them around on my finger, remembering that late afternoon on Carmel Beach, when Jen and I had sat, side by side on weathered driftwood, exchanging rings and a lifetime of promises, as the waves surged against the shore and retreated, creating a rhythm for our words. In that moment, in that time and place—the steadfast shoreline that had provided backdrop to our lives—our vows felt as permanent as the sea.
Yet the ocean always moves with the tides.
My mind returned to the sparse living room around us and the realization that it was nearly eight a.m. The babies had slept through the night and well into the morning. That seemed promising. Doable. We saw a tiny hand push aside the sheers that blocked the light from coming through the French doors into their makeshift nursery. Hilary’s little face peeked out looking, we assumed, to see if we were still there. Or, if anyone was. We realized this meant she had pulled herself up to stand in the porta-crib. Knowing she could not yet stand on her own, she had to be holding on with one hand and reaching out with the other. She was strong.
“Mighty Mouse,” Jen said.
We looked at each other and said nothing. Together we rose and opened the door to their room. Both babies were standing at the edge of their cribs. As we approached, they reached up their little arms, silently asking to be picked up. In so doing, they lost their mooring and quickly sat. We reached over the edge of the cribs, each of us collecting a baby into our arms.
They had reached for us. We’d been told they’d reached for a lot of people in all those foster homes. But we were the ones leaning in, lifting them into our lives. I glanced at Jen and said, “Are we doing this?” She nodded. It was the most she could muster.
“Yes?” I had to be sure. Again, she nodded.
That was the extent of our life-changing discussion. It seemed to be the absolute most we could generate and the closest we could get to making a commitment to these children, out loud.
About the Author
A fifth-generation Northern Californian, Lisa Crawford Watson has published seven books and thousands of articles in local and national newspapers and magazines. She earned a bachelor’s degree in sociolinguistics from the University of California, Davis, and a master's degree in education administration from California State University, Sacramento. She currently teaches communications, writing, and journalism at California State University, Monterey Bay.
Lisa lives with her husband in Carmel on the legendary Monterey Peninsula, where she focuses on fitness, family, and philanthropy. As a resident of the “Canine Capital of the Country,” Lisa has a devoted following for her weekly dog column, for which she has profiled more than seven-hundred furry friends.
Contact Links
Website: lisacrawfordwatson.com
Facebook: Lcwcarmel
Instagram: @lisacrawfordwatson
Substack: Lisa Crawford Watson
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