Brettne Shootman (2) 0:07

Welcome to Not Fit for the Feed, confessions and conversations about parenting through the hard stuff. I'm Brettne Shootman. I'm not a therapist or an expert on parenting. I've just survived a lot of things I didn't see coming, and it often felt like I was going through it alone. But here's what I've learned. When we release our fears and our pain out into the sunshine, instead of keeping them locked away, they lose their power over us, and we stop being alone in them. So pull up a chair, and let's get started.

Brettne Shootman 0:53

Today's episode is about the decision that changed the lives of everyone in our family, and what happens when you make it without telling your kids before you tell the rest of the world I never wanted to have a daughter. The truth of the matter is, I have a complicated relationship with my own biological mother. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love her, but I don't understand her. I don't understand the choices that she's made, the choices that have affected my life greatly. I remember as a teenager being so angry with her for being the cool mom. It had been fun at first, but by the time I was a senior in high school, the novelty had definitely worn off. I didn't want the mom who had spiked punk rock hair and wore mini skirts. I wanted the mom who made you eat your vegetables at dinner and helped me to create boundaries that would keep me out of future trouble. And my attitude toward her was often the eyeball-rolling type of rude that teenage girls do so well. I remember telling her that she could only come to my high school graduation if she did not wear a mini skirt. Instead, she wore a long flowing skirt that she pulled up in the front to mini level. I was furious. I have to admit, to her credit, she says she didn't raise the skirt until after I'd walked across the stage When I was 24 and getting married, I created a frame of pictures that represented, mine and Alex's life up to that point I didn't realize it at the time, and had to be told years later, but I didn't include one picture of her. I don't remember doing it on purpose, obviously, but she wasn't in my life that much, so you know. And then when I was 30, I got pregnant with my first child. I had waited so long and was so excited. My mom was only 18 when I was born. When I told her, she responded by saying, "I'm not really ready to be a grandmother." And I was crushed. This was supposed to be about me, not her. Then there's a video of her holding my first son soon after he was born with me talking to her in the background, and my every word is dripping with anger. I was actually happy that she was there to help me with my newborn, and it was obvious she loved her grandson. But at the same time, I was so angry with her, and I just didn't know how to let it go Then there was the idea that in some way I would turn out like her. She was fun and funny and smart, but I didn't value those qualities at the time. I thought it was better to be serious about the job of parenting, and that meant being present and involved. I was determined to prove through my everyday actions that I was committed to my kid, and not to make choices for myself that might hurt him But I also knew that I was not in control of what a daughter's personality might turn out like. I had some faith that I could control my actions, but a separate human being was something entirely different. My fear wasn't just that I'd turn into my mom, it was that a daughter might treat me the way I'd treated her. I knew exactly what that looked like because I'd been the one doing it. The eye-rolling, the cruelty, the rejection, and I wasn't sure I could handle being on the receiving end of that. So no, I never wanted to have a daughter When I had two sons, I exhaled. I was off the hook. Alex and I decided we were done, and I was genuinely relieved. No daughters, no complicated dynamics, no chance of becoming my mother or raising someone who might treat me the way I'd treated her. And then we changed our minds. Seven years later, at the end of our time living in Denver, my resolve wavered. Alex had always wanted a little girl, and I started to feel guilty. We decided that if we were going to try for a third kid, we better get serious about it fast. We were older than forty after all, and then we chose to take a job in Austin. I had really enjoyed living in Denver and pretty much given up on ever getting back to Austin, and now we had the chance, so we took it. Both boys were sad to leave their friends and schools, but Alex and I felt this opportunity was what we needed. The job was a promotion, and my dad was back in the Austin area dying. Being near him at the end of his life was where I felt I needed to be. The move went well, and after a month or two in Austin, Alex and I decided, "You know, maybe we should just be content with the family we had. Why rock the boat?" So I planned to get back on birth control and then almost immediately missed my period. And yep, you guessed it, I was pregnant. I remember telling the boys, and they were both so excited about the possibility of having a younger sibling. I was really surprised by this because half the time Will didn't wanna have Sam as a younger sibling. But I took it as a good sign. The nurses at my doctor's office were surprised at my happy reaction to being over forty and pregnant because Most of their patients cried at the news I figured if God was going to bless us with another child, I should be ecstatic. But then things began to shift. I had been on anti-anxiety meds since Sam was three years old. He was a baby that never slept, and after three years of it, my brain felt fried. I literally felt at times like I was going to snap. I went back to my, gynecologist and told him I didn't know what was wrong with me, but that I was worried because I was losing my temper a lot and screaming at my kids. And he said he wanted me to try an anti-anxiety medication, and my response was, "You think I have anxiety?" And he said, "You don't think you're anxious when you're screaming at your kids?" Touché. And boy, did they work for me. But as a newly pregnant woman, I was worried that these same meds might not be okay for a baby in utero. My doctor said that there really wasn't enough information to say definitely that it would be okay, so I decided to come off of the meds. This felt like the safest decision, but I totally underestimated how difficult it was going to be. The only information I had from my doctor and the internet was that I should take a month to wean off, and then I'd be medicine-free. The reality is it's just not that simple. Coming off the meds caused my emotions to be all over the place. One minute I'd be laughing, and the next I'd be in tears. I was prickly, and I was irritable all the time. It was awful, and it made me start to question my choice to get pregnant What did my moods mean for the baby? Would it be affected? The answer seemed like a resounding yes, but what could I do? Alex had even said that my mental health was the most important thing and not the pregnancy, but I had made this choice, and I felt like I needed to see it through no matter what it looked like. I would just have to figure out how to manage. Of course, there was always the worry that because of my age, the baby could be born with Down syndrome. I knew it was a risk to have the amniocentesis but decided it was worth being prepared in the event that the test came back positive. It came back negative, which seemed like such a good omen, and I just made it through the first trimester, the point where you're supposed to be able to breathe again. And then a week later, the baby died. I'd had a miscarriage right before getting pregnant with Sam, but this was still a shock. Maybe they're always a shock. Alex was heartbroken. Sam was sad and just hugged me when I told him. But Will burst into tears and said in a desperate sounding voice, "What are we going to do?" I mostly felt numb, but the rest of me was relieved. I didn't know what the future held, but it would not include me having another baby. During this same time period, we were helping to plant a church. Dennis was a superintendent with the Free Methodist denomination that our Denver church had been a part of. When he learned we were moving to Texas, he said, "I think you should plant a church in Houston." And we explained that, we weren't moving to Houston, we were moving to Austin. His response was, "Sorry, I, I think you should plant a church in Austin." We were incredulous. Not only were we less than 10 years into church life, we had no idea how to start a church. But Alex gave it his all and met with anyone in the Austin area that could give him advice on how to plant a church. Eventually, we helped hire the pastor and found a place to hold church. Our whole family got involved in setting up and tearing down every week, children's ministry, and any outreach event that the church was involved in. One weekend, Dennis came to visit the church and stayed as a guest at our house. We'd become good friends by then. And Alex and I sat on the patio with him catching up, and then he told us all about a couple from his home church who had recently adopted a little girl from Ethiopia. I think Ethiopia was on his mind because he and Alex were both serving as board members for a mutual friend's nonprofit called Eden Reforestation. The story of the adoption was really sweet, but I didn't give it much thought after hearing it. Then a little while later, Alex was talked into going to Ethiopia to see firsthand the work that Eden was doing. He traveled every week and really enjoyed his time at home when he didn't have to travel, so flying to Africa was no small thing, and he, he wasn't really excited to go. However, he reluctantly agreed to accompany Dennis and our new pastor, and wouldn't you know it, the experience absolutely changed his life. He always says that he never gave a hoot about trees, but he fell in love with Ethiopia during that trip, especially the children. At the end of that year, our pastor, during a Sunday service, said he wanted to challenge us all to think differently about giving. He said, "If you could give without giving money in the coming year, what would you do?" I remember one word flashing across my brain in typewriter font, and it was adoption. I'd talked in the past to Alex about the possibility of adopting from the foster system, but he'd never really been interested. So as we left church that day, I just kinda tucked the idea away in my heart. It was like a lovely pipe dream. A week later, I was standing in our kitchen when Alex walked in and said, "I have to tell you what I've been thinking." He looked serious, but strangely excited, so I was intrigued. In the past, when he'd been thinking, there was always some new move or adventure about to spill out. So I waited with a half smile on my face. Then he said, "Do you remember when the pastor asked us to consider how we could give in the new year without just giving more money?" And I said, "Yes." "Well," he replied, "the word that came to my mind was adoption." I stared at him in disbelief as I thought back to what I'd been thinking at the exact same time and said, "Oh, my gosh. That's exactly what I thought." Alex said, "Really? Well, w- what do you think we should do?" We were both excited now, and I said, "Well, I feel like this must be God telling us we're supposed to adopt, so let's do it." And then we just stood there in the middle of the kitchen, hugging and laughing. I couldn't believe it. Was this for real? We decided not to tell the kids just yet because, in truth We were still trying to wrap our heads around the idea of being on the same page at the same time about something as big as adoption. It seemed surreal, and it didn't seem like something that had to happen right away. We had to choose an adoption agency, and then there would be a mountain of paperwork. And besides, the kids would be so happy. They had both been sad when I'd lost the baby, so this would most certainly be welcome news. So after the new year, we went to church on a Sunday morning. Sam had gone into one of the kids' classrooms, and Will went into the program for teens and tweens. Now, I didn't realize it, but at some point his group had come back and joined the adults. My mom's three sisters had started coming to church with us, and they were in the audience as well. And at the end of the service, the pastor said, "By the way, I wanna check in with all of you on how you've decided to give in the new year. Would anybody be willing to share?" People started to raise their hands, and several families said they were considering adoption. As each family shared how they were going to give back, the emotion in the room grew. There was a tingle of excitement, and it sort of felt like people were shedding old skin for new. It was really an amazing feeling of community because so many of us were thinking the same thing. I remember Alex and I looking at each other, and it felt like he was telling me to raise my hand and share, too, so I did. And just as I was about to say that we were thinking about adoption, he jumped in and said, "We've decided to adopt." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, my three aunts squealed and clapped and started crying. They stood up, and they started working their way over to us. It had felt so good to share with everyone what we were thinking, but I knew we hadn't told the kids yet, and it worried me. And then as I hugged one of my aunts, I looked over and I saw Will staring right back at me with eyes open wide. He looked shocked and hurt, and it made me cringe. He had found out about the adoption with the rest of the room full of people, and he had to sit and watch strangers celebrate a decision that would change his life and that nobody had thought to tell him about first We always thought of Will as so old for his age. He was like an old man in a kid's body, and we treated him that way too, probably more than we should have. But in that moment, across the room full of celebrating people, he didn't look old for his age at all. He looked like a little boy who just had the rug pulled out from under him Once we were home and able to talk to Will, it became apparent that he viewed the adoption as a threat. He explained that for his whole life, it had been just the four of us, and that was what he knew and could count on. It was his stable foundation. He felt that if we wanted to adopt another child, he and his brother must not be enough for us. Alex and I tried to explain how we'd come to the decision to adopt, and that it had nothing to do with how much we loved him and his brother. But none of what we said seemed to help him feel any better. In time, he sort of seemed to accept the situation and life appeared to return to normal. Alex and I thought all was good, and I tried to console myself with the fact that Alex and I were the adults. It had been our call to make, and we had made it. We just didn't know how much that decision would cost us Dear listener, I still believe that parents are the ones who should make the big decisions for the family. But what I wish we'd done differently was have the conversation with our kids before we announced it to the world. That would've been the respectful thing to do. After all, their lives were about to change just as much as ours. They deserved the chance to ask questions, to raise concerns, and be heard, even if the answer was still going to be the same. Alex and I got carried away in the moment and skipped that step, and Will's face when it happened told me how much trust I had just destroyed in our relationship. So if you're standing on the edge of a big decision that will affect your kids, make the call, but tell them first

Brettne Shootman (2) 19:47

Thank you for spending this time with me. If today's episode resonated with you, please share it with someone who needs to hear it. And if you're finding value in these conversations, it would mean the world to me if you'd take a moment to follow or subscribe wherever you listen and leave a review. It helps other parents who need this find their way here. You can find resources related to today's episode in the show notes. I'm Brettne Shootman, and this is Not Fit for the Feed, where we say the hard things out loud so they lose their power over us. See you next time