Story
My Adoption Story
Many of you know that I was adopted as an infant. For the first 33 days of my life, I was cared for by a foster care family while my adoption agency identified an adoptive family for me. Upon birth I was unnamed. This is not unusual for children awaiting adoption at birth. Having been born a week before Christmas, my foster care family named me "Holly." On January 19th I arrived to my forever home and family of Nell & Richard Immler (and their daughter, my sister, Jean).
'It started with a dream'
For a year, prior to my birth, my adoptive mother had a reoccurring dream. This dream would often wake her up feeling tearful, empty, and a feeling that "something" was missing and void from her life. She struggled understanding the meaning behind these dreams and why God allowed them to persist. One day while home alone doing her household chores, a commercial came on the television advertising for adoptive families to adopt "hard to place children." At that time, this implied children of ethnic minorities. Before she knew it, moved by a force that was not her own, she was dialing the number listed on the television screen committing her and her husband to adopt. From that day forward that reoccurring dream was no more.
'The calling'
My mother knew without a doubt that God placed a calling on her life to adopt. My father trusted this calling and agreed to the plan of adopting. Part of that calling including adopting a child ethnically different from themselves. Transracial adoption was not common at this time. My parents were Caucasian and were not sure how a "brown (Latino) baby" would be accepted by their extended family. Though a concern they would not allow anyone or feelings of fear have veto power over God's clear direction for their family. Today, more than 40% of adoptions are transracial.
'Aunt Betty'
My parents concerns about extended family soon proved to be true. My mother had an aunt, Betty, that refused to come to family gatherings after my parents' adoption of a "brown baby." Eventually, curiosity got the best of this aunt and she made an appearance at a family holiday gathering when I was around 3 or 4 years old. My mother described me as being old enough to walk and talk. Upon Aunt Betty's arrival to my grandparents home, I ran up to her and wrapped my arms around her leg while enthusiastically stating, "I love you Aunt Betty!" God used this moment to begin healing and reconciling prejudice in my family, as evidence by my daughter being named after my Aunt Betty!
'A second child'
Studies report that only 1% of the population will make a plan of adoption for their child. The act of making a plan of adoption is a selfless act that takes great courage. My birth mother engaged in this act of courage twice in her life. Some would judge this and blanket her with shame and guilt. For me, I chose to describe it as acts of brave love.
Above is a photo of myself and my younger sister, Caroline. Caroline and I share the same birth mother. We were placed into separate adoptive homes at birth and did not know each other existed or meet until we were in our mid-twenties. It was not until I decided to contact my adoption agency for medical history did I learn of Caroline's existence. The agency reached out to Caroline on my behalf and several months following we reunited, with my first visit to her home in Boston (see gallery photos).
'Not just a job'
For the past 14 years, I've dedicated my life to serving children in need of homes through working at Bethany. My positive adoption experience and love for God fuels my work daily. Every time I'm in front of a birth mother or father I see the reflection of my own biological parents. Every time I meet with potential adoptive parents I see the reflection of my own parents. It is humbling and moving each and every time and a reminder of God's faithfulness in my life. From birth, I had others advocate and step in the gap for me. Please partner with me to be that difference maker.
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