Batter Up!

Does Age Matter When Adopting?

How old are you? Adoptive moms and dads can often be on the older end of the spectrum. By the time we realize that adoption is our best option (and a most wonderful option it is), we are older, wiser and creakier. We may share carpooling with women who are almost young enough to be our daughters. On good days or in the early years of parenthood, we may look and feel great and it will be easy to pass as a contemporary. Still, we may hear the occasional “Is that your grandson?” Don’t let it surprise you. Facts are facts.

Does age matter when raising children or do we all experience the highs, the lows, the rewards and the worry? Is parental exhaustion age specific or is it universal? Does experience sharpen our sixth sense or dull our kid radar?

Being an older mom I am always looking for answers and sometimes the inspiration I seek comes from my very own children.

Recently, our son Nate progressed from the farms to the minors in Little League. That means he went from being one of the oldest on a team, to one of the youngest. He now has to compete with players that have one or two extra years of experience, and greater force and power. The nature of competition is such that there is only one thing a young rookie can do. He must forget about any inadequacies and step up to the plate.

Is age on his mind as he takes his place on the mound? The pitcher is at least two heads taller and thirty pounds larger than he is. Is he comparing himself to the competition? Is he scared about the differences that age may impose on his abilities?


He focuses on the job at hand. He glares at the pitcher, spits, and takes his time with a few practice swings. The crowd waits. He will not be rushed. He will not be underestimated. This is his moment, his turn at bat, and he is giving it his best shot.

Before adopting, my personal failings loomed large in my mind. Would someone choose me if they knew that when I am nervous I turn to a piece of chocolate? How about the book I can’t put down despite the laundry, the dishes, the mail piling up? After adopting I wondered why I was chosen. How could I have been so fortunate? What did I do to deserve these precious gifts?

I look up just in time to see my “rookie of the year” reach first base. At the end of the game, my husband says to him: “Sorry your team lost, Nate” and Nate says: “That’s okay dad. We had fun.”

He sits back on the bench with his friends. They are all different colors, shapes and sizes. Their lives will vary in circumstance and fate, but they have one thing in common. They have all learned to give their best, their absolute best, when it is their turn at bat.

A Loving Mom

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