Hermana Jarman Adoption Story


Adoption. The word in and of itself used to be absolutely repulsive to me. In my mind, I saw it as a word that had so much more meaning. Adoption to me meant a mistake, being unwanted and giving up. But this story is how I learned to change my perspective, and see that I was truly none of those things.

There's a bit of a background to this story. It begins with a girl named Karen Smith. Born and raised in the LDS church, with good parents and siblings. She lived in Logan Utah, and had a wonderful life. She was especially close to her older sister Janelle who had married a man named Blaine. She would go to her about everything all growing up. During Karen's senior year, she began making some poor choices, hanging out with the wrong people and shortly before graduation, she found out she was pregnant. What on earth was this girl going to do? She was in no place to raise a kid, but she figured that if she had the support of her family and her boyfriend, all would be well. But things didn't go her way. Her boyfriend left as soon as she told him her news. Her dad said "Karen if you don't give this baby up for adoption, I will never talk to you again." And on the other side her mother was saying, "If you do give this baby up for adoption, I will never talk to you again." It was a lot for an 18 year old girl to take on, but she took it on and on January 4th 1998 she had her baby girl. Mikayla Christine Smith. And boy did she love her. She was ready, as ready as anyone could be, to raise her daughter by herself with the little support that she had. A week came and went and Karen came to the realization that this was not something she could do. She called her sister Janelle up and said, "Help. Please, I cannot do this, and this baby deserves so much more. Adopt her for me." Janelle wanted nothing more than to help her little sister, but she also knew that there was no way she could adopt her sisters child. Janelle went to Blaine, her husband, looking for ideas on what they could do. Blaine had a brother who had adopted a little boy 3 years earlier, and he said, "Well why don't we call Glade and Becky and see what they think?" So they made the phone call to Glade and Rebecca Jarman and that is where the beginning really starts. 

It was a Sunday afternoon. Mom had just laid down for a nap with my older brother Ben. He was barley 3 years old. Dad was in the other room with Kyle when the phone rang. I don't think anything could really have prepared my dad for the news that he heard in that phone call. In three rings, his life, my life and our whole families lives changed forever. He went in, sat down on the edge of the bed and woke my mom up. "Hey so what do you think of adopting a little girl?" he asked. Mom obviously thought it was a good idea, because within hours they were packing bags to drive up to Utah to come and get me.  And that's when I became Emily Elizabeth Jarman.

Growing up, I can't remember a time not knowing I was adopted. There was never a distinct moment when my parents sat me down to tell me. It was always something we were open about and talked about from the time I was really little. I do however remember all the hard things that came about from being adopted. Being little, it never really affected me. I knew I had a mom. I knew I had a dad. I knew I had two older brothers, and I knew how I had come into their lives. And I thought I was cool because of it. But as I got older, it got a little harder. 

In 6th grade, a boy told me I was a failed abortion. I had no idea what that meant, and I asked my parents. Mom went into mama bear mode, and when I realized what it meant, my whole view of adoption changed. Before I thought it was so cool and that I was the luckiest kid ever. But then I realized that there was a side of adoption that meant I wasn't wanted. This side came out that made me see that I had become more of a burden to a woman than a help. I would look at my friends who looked like their parents, and I wanted nothing more than to be a member of my family, to have come from my mom and dad, not some lady I knew nothing about. I knew that Karen had had two kids after me, and I wondered what made me not good enough. Why would she keep them, but I just couldn't make the cut? 

I hated being adopted. I hated that everyone knew. I hated that people would say "Oh so why didn't your real mom want you?" To me, Glade and Rebecca were my real parents, I was sealed to them. But nobody else could see it, and I wanted them to so badly. I hated Karen for so easily giving me away. And I hated that the way I came into the world was so looked down upon. That I had not been planned like all my other friends. I hated that just the news of my existence had brought so many tears and heartache. 

I remember one day, mom and I had a conversation that forever changed my view of who I was and why I came into the world the way I did. We were in the kitchen. I don't remember what brought it up, but mom told me of the day they got me. I don't know the date, whether it was sunny or raining. But I do know the important details of that day. Mom said there is nothing that can prepare you for a moment when a mother hands you her child. She hands you a baby that she loves with everything she has, and she expects you to love that child, to give them everything you can and to raise them the best you possibly could. Mom told me that they met at her sisters house. Mom, Dad, Kyle, Ben, they were all there, and Karen walked in the front door with me in her arms. Karen handed me to my mom with tears, and my mom said its really hard to be happy in the moment. You are filled with so much gratitude but it also hurts because you know this mother is hurting more than any feeling you have ever experienced. My mom held me, her little girl. She handed me to dad, and they just loved me. You could never tell my parents that I'm not theirs. Your child doesn't have to have your blood running through their veins to be YOUR child. What makes a child yours is the love that runs through. And there is so much of that between me and my parents. Then my mom said this, "Emily, I believe God has the most special place in His heart for the women who place their children up for adoption. He knows exactly how it feels to give a child. He gave His son, you don't think He understands their pain? If there is anyone who knows what it is like, it is Him." And in that moment, how could I hate Karen? 

I learned a lot about adoption that day, and a lot about it in the years that followed. I always hated the term "given up for adoption." The words give up and adoption just don't go together. There is a whole lot of give in adoption, but no giving up. You have the birth mother who gives her child a better life, a better home, parents who love. And then you have the parents who do the adopting and all that they give. They are the champions in my eyes. They welcome a child into their lives and they love them as their very own. They give everything and more to create a wonderful life for their child. 

I learned that it wasn't just hard for Karen, and it wasn't just hard for me. My wonderful mother, my goodness what a champion she is. I cannot imagine the pain she went through all the years she wanted a baby so badly. All the false pregnancy tests, all the sad nights, all the times she felt like something was wrong with her, when really there wasn't. She is hands down the strongest women I have ever known. She had such patience when she was the women who raised me, loved me, and I just wanted to talk about Karen and know more about her. She handled everything that came with adoption with such grace. The snotty comments that people throw at you, she just shrugged off. She knew that Emily Elizabeth was hers, whether she had carried me in her tummy for 9 months or not. God knew from the beginning that I was meant to be hers, it was just a matter of time, and getting me to her.

I learned that adoption is also one of the most wonderful things to ever exist. Without it, I would not be who I am today. I would not have the gospel in my life, I  wouldn't have two parents who love me. I wouldn't have two older siblings. I wouldn't be here in Spain serving my mission. I don't know where I'd be. 

I learned that you don't have to be blood to be loved. You don't have to have the same color eyes or the Jarman nose to be family. My mom didn't have to carry me for 9 months for me to be her daughter. I don't have to have the same eyes as my dad for him to be my dad. 

I learned about adoption. The word in and of itself is absolutely beautiful to me. In my mind, I see it as a word that has so much more meaning. Adoption to me means Christlike love, being wanted more than I could ever imagine and never giving up. This story is my perspective on adoption and seeing that I am a part of all those wonderful things.