5 Impostor Syndrome Stories Embryo Adoption Parents Tell Themselves
This universal manifestation of inadequacy applies as much to parents of embryo-adopted children as to anyone. Here's how to start overcoming it today.
Credit: Daria Shevtsova | Pexels
Impostor syndrome is a phrase commonly associated with the world of business. A person gets a promotion, discovers there’s an awful lot to learn, and assumes they don’t belong. Cue terrifying thoughts of corporate leaders emerging from around the corner with a pink slip and a box for your belongings. In 2022, when one in four of us are expected to permanently work remotely, perhaps the equivalent fever nightmare is receiving a cryptically titled Zoom invitation and a ringing in the ears from being on too many Zoom meetings. Point being, impostor syndrome is a universal manifestation of inadequacy, and it applies as much to parents of embryo-adopted children as to anyone.
Yet there are some key points of departure from conventional impostor syndrome. First and foremost, conventional impostor syndrome assumes success has been achieved. Parenting, including parenting of adopted children, never truly reaches an endpoint. Wiser friends with more experience tell me that once you’re a mom or a dad, you’re always a dad. Unlike a Sam’s Club or Costco membership, you can’t decide on an annual basis whether to renew or cancel. And heaven forbid we try to opt out on a monthly basis, a la your Netflix subscription or monthly trash bill.
Few of us choose to yell, as the trash truck rolls down the street, “I’ll be composting from now on, thank you very much!” We need that service even though it’s stinky and never goes away. This is very similar to parenting, in more ways than I care to recount.
Use your imagination to fill in the blanks.
For all its smells and travails, parenting really is a wonderful thing. It’s also painful, uncertain and exhausting. Impostor syndrome for embryo-adoptive parents adds an extra element of background anxiety that’s avoidable only when we keep it in check. Here are some of the negative thoughts that have gone through my head at one point or another, paired with the kinder alternative story I choose to tell myself instead. Perhaps you can relate.
Negative Story No. 1: My embryo-adopted child will grow up bewildered about their origin story because I’ll fail at explaining it clearly.
Positive Story: I will choose to tell my child about their incredible story, from placing (genetic) family to their adoption into our family and everything in between. I’ll do so in a way that is age-appropriate, honest, authentic and compassionate. I’ll tell the truth because the truth is, their special place in my family, and that of their placing family, is totally unique and totally amazing.
Negative Story No. 2: My embryo-adopted child would be better off with their placing family.
Positive Story: Open adoptions are a blessing and foster a lifelong relationship between a child and their genetic family. Yet placing families make the decision each year to place embryos for adoption because their families are complete, and they recognize the gift that is remaining embryos. These families long for peace of mind and the comfort of knowing they’ve given these babies the best chance at life. For a majority of children, a rich relationship with one’s placing family is an enormous blessing. That doesn’t change or diminish the reality of their adoption into my loving and open-hearted family.
Negative Story No. 3: My embryo-adopted child will inherit all of my family’s worst tendencies. They would have been better off with another, more put-together family.
Positive Story: My family is just as put-together as any other family, probably more so in some areas and less so in others. All of my children—adopted and biological alike—are simply and wonderfully that: my children. As such, they will proudly carry on my family’s legacy. Sure, that includes some warts and wrinkles and mid-sized skeletons in the closet. My spouse and I will provide the parenting support, coaching and encouragement our children need to become the best version of themselves. We will embrace the Bible’s admonition to “pray without ceasing” (I Thess. 5:17) because we know we need it. More than that, our children deserve to have the A-Team in their corner, and you can’t “let go and let God” if God isn’t part of the equation in the first place.
Negative Story No. 4: My embryo-adopted child will fall victim to [insert horrible malady here] and I’ll have no clue how to stop it.
Positive Story: If my adoption agency provided me with a medical history of my child’s genetic family, I will read it with care and interest—and I will not let fear dissuade me from providing the best possible care. Like my own family, my placing family faces unique health challenges and opportunities. I’ll read to understand and then act with common sense, which should cover at least 80 percent of my fears. If melanoma runs in the family, we’ll use sunscreen. If dairy sensitivity is a concern, we’ll grab some lactose intolerance caplets. If fiery dispositions emerge after age 3, well, there’s no stopping that. We’ll manage through it.
Negative Story No. 5: My embryo-adopted child will grow up to resent me and our decision to adopt.
Positive Story: I can’t control the future or other people’s thoughts, feelings or emotions. What’s completely in my control is how I show up each day to love my child, care for them, model God’s love and give them the space to learn and grow. Questioning one’s roots and one’s purpose is deeply human and common to all people whether they are adopted or not. If and when my child expresses concerns in the future, I will have the strength and the experience cultivated over years to have those conversations and be the rock my child needs, no matter what.
If you have adopted an embryo baby, or you have placed embryos for adoption, I bet there are other stories you’ve told yourself—stories you’re actively trying to change in a positive direction. I’d love to hear how you’re doing and what you’ve found to be most successful. Drop me a line at nathanjbirt@gmail.com.
In the meantime, remember: Every child matters—embryo adopted, biological, foster. So does every parent. There is no guidebook. You’re writing it.
What will today’s chapter reflect about you, your values and the adult you hope your child becomes?