What's Better for Parents - Adopting an Infant or Adopting an Older Child?

NOTE: This Hub is in response to a question found in the HubPages "Questions" Section:

"In Your Opinion, Is It Advisable To Adopt A Newly Born Baby Or an Older Child, 3 – 10 Years Old?"

I think it depends on the situation of the mother/parents. When parents adopt a newborn they have the chance to form the same kind of bond parents form with children who are their biological children. In the first three years (or so) of life, children's brain connections are forming; so parents can actually have impact on how well the child's brain develops. Things like the stress-response system and immune system can be affected for the rest of a child's life, and the right kind of nurturing can often determine how well things like this will function for the rest of the child's life.

As a mother of one son adopted as a baby and two children who are biological, I've seen so many similarities between all three kids, I've seen a sampling of the kind of impact nurturing can have. (At the same time, all children, biological or adopted, have their own set of inherited predispositions; so, adopted or biological, parents need to realize they cannot "build" into their child every trait/tendency they see as desirable.) Parents who hope to have the same kind of family experience loving, solid, biological parents can have with their children may be better off adopting an infant. On the other hand, not every parent is sufficiently understanding of the most solid nurturing style.

Some people aren't all that comfortable with newborns and babies but enjoy older children. The age of the parents is something to consider. In my opinion, it really wouldn't be fair for parents over a certain age to adopt an infant who, at 20, may have 70-year-old parents. (Of course, with this kind of thing, sometimes there are reasons someone older would be the right parents for an infant, perhaps if the adoptive parents were grandparents or someone else close to the birth mother.)

The number of older children waiting to be adopted is heartbreaking, though, and the right kind of parents in the right situation may find adopting an older child is right for them, and for the child. Adopting an older child requires particular understanding and parenting skill, but even the most loving and skilled parents can find the child's history can create problems in the relationship, or for the child in general. Only some parents are capable of "graciously" dealing with some of the challenges associated with adopting an older child, and even those who are the most capable may discover that all their love and caring can only do so much for the child. Even if an older child is receptive to the idea of being adopted and forming a close relationship with the parents; just by virtue of the child's being already who/what he is, there will be things that will be very different (from adopting an infant) between the parents and child. So, the short answer to this question is: It depends on the parents and their situation, nature, and ability to love a child with whom they haven't formed that "infant bond". Sometimes, too, it can depend on the child.

Age of Parents

When I began the adoption process with my son, I hadn't yet had any children myself and had no reason to think I wouldn't/couldn't have any. At the same time, I was aware of the fact that I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't find myself among the "fertility challenged". Because, as most young women do, I wanted that same kind of relationship with my future children that mothers have with their biological children (when all is right, of course), I saw adopting an infant as simply not being the one to give birth to my first child. It wasn't a situation in which I was "in the market to adopt a child - any child". My son was one, specific, infant about whom I knew; and I knew I was someone who was good with babies and children, as well as capable of loving any baby (whether I gave birth to him/her or not). In other words, as a young women in her twenties, "just adding an extra baby" to the family I was planning to build wasn't (for lack of a better way to describe it) "all that big of a deal".

Our adoption story is a happy one, although it is not one without its challenges. If I ask what made things work out as well as they have, I have to say that I think the fact that I think I'm among those people who have "a good attitude" and a good understanding of babies, child development, and nurturing. More importantly, I think one reason my adoption situation worked out as rock-solid as it has is related to the fact that "blood" (or having a child who "looks just like me") didn't matter to me. I had a lot of faith in my ability to nurture a child in a way that would make him happy and secure, and I was willing to keep considering all the aspects of the "larger picture" and the "smaller picture" associated with an adoption situation.

Now, having uncomfortably mentioned the things about myself that I think helped lead to a happy adoption story, I think you need to know this:

When I was in my twenties, thirties, and even forties; I was someone who always said, "I could never adopt an older child." It seemed kind of strange to me to realize that, for as otherwise loving, mature, selfless, and tireless as I was with all three of my children; and with the fact that I generally care very much about, and like, all children; I was someone who just knew there was "no way" I could adopt an older child. Why?

One reason was that it's one thing to like someone else's child when you don't have to be his mother. It's another to have to form a bond with a child over three, and to sign on to take on the responsibilities and demands of being the mother of a child with whom you didn't get the chance to form than mother/infant bond. It's also another thing to take "all that" on when you feel as if things would have been different had you had the chance to "mold" the child's personality and nurture his potential and skills.

I felt guilty knowing this about myself, but I knew it was better to recognize that I just wasn't capable of being quite that selfless when it came to adopting a child. It didn't matter, though, because I had my three children and wasn't looking to add more at the time.

Although I was happy with my three children, there was a time when I was young enough that I would have liked to have had one more child. I had two boys and one girl and thought it might be nice my daughter to have a sister. Besides, in my thirties and having only had two deliveries (and one disastrous pregnancy), I don't think I felt a I was quite "done" having babies. That didn't work out, so when I was in my forties I began thinking about trying to adopt one more child, an infant. Since I knew the odds weren't great for a 40-plus, divorced, mother or three when it came to adopting a healthy infant from the US; I began thinking about looking into International adoption (again, of an infant or baby under two).

As I got closer and closer to 50, and as my situation wasn't one in which an adoption would be at all possible, I gave up the idea of adopting an infant if/when my situation were to change. I'm nothing, if not an "adjuster-to-things-I would-have-preferred-be-different", so I decided to enjoy the freedom and other positive things about having grown children. I discovered there's still so much closeness and enjoyment in the relationship between mothers and grown kids, so I was surprised to discover how much a mother having grown kids still made me feel. Besides, I had all that freedom and time to do whatever I wanted to do. Besides enjoying my children's ever-expanding and building worlds become, in ways, a little bit a part of my own; I could socialize whenever I wanted. With the kids all grown up, I knew I could do things like date if I wanted to. There was also my siblings, women friends, and other acquaintances for whom I now I had time. "Yes," I thought, "I'm going to like this new part of my life." - and I do.

After a few years of it, though; and for no reason (I thought) other than being bored one evening; I began looking at adoption sites to see what information there was about adopting an older child. Adoption has been a big part of my adult life and thinking, and I suppose, because I hadn't really had the choice about having or adopting another child, I hadn't quite gotten out of my head how much children's laughter and energy brings to a home. The perfect dining room table and the perfect fresh flowers in the center of it, along with classical music or very grown-up history documentaries on television were a peaceful and lovely way to live. Still, not having all that peace and freedom for another 10 years or so would have seemed right to me too.

I imagined adopting a young child who desperately needed a mature, loving, mother. A child who could benefit by having no young siblings and instead being the only child among older family members might be someone to think about. Yes, a five- or seven- year old child would have, say, mid-sixties mother when he was 20, but that's pretty usual for a lot of kids. Also, a child who faced the rest of his childhood waiting to be adopted may be happy to be adopted by someone like me. For all my weakness, imperfection, and selfishness when it came to the fact that I didn't feel up to adopting an older child when I was younger; I'd otherwise not be such a bad mother for a kid to (and honest with myself) when I felt that way in my twenties and thirties.

I asked myself if I was "some pathetic empty-nester" (actually, to this day, I'm still not an empty-nester as a result of my youngest child's finishing her education; so "almost-empty-nester" would be the word I should have used) who discovered that I'd built an identity on being a mother more than I'd realized. I answered myself by realizing that I fought hard not to lose "own" identity even when I had young children. I loved being a mother (every minute of it), and I still absolutely love it and love my children more than ever. Still, no, I hadn't lost my identity or build one based on being a mother. No, the adoption thing was a matter of realizing that I didn't long for, or need, a young child in my life. I just realized it might be nice to be a mother to a child who needs one, and to have a child (and all the things that go with) in my life one more time, and until the child grew up and left me with an empty nest "for real" when I was a little older.

Contrary to common myth, or popular belief (I don't know which, because I don't have access to accurate statistics on such things), I generally have had increasing energy levels as I've aged and as my children have aged. I was 29 when I had one son and 32 when I had my daughter. I had plenty of energy then, far more energy than most mothers seem to have. I've always thought it's ridiculous when people say mothers who have babies around or after 30 have less energy.

Even today, in my 50's, I still feel perfectly energetic enough to be handed a newborn tomorrow and be able to almost effortlessly take care of it, happily do without sleep (I do that anyway), and start all over again as a mother of a newborn. Perhaps more importantly, I now see that I have so much more understanding of teens now that I'm that much farther away from being one myself. In my thirties a teen seemed to me to be "almost grown". Today I see how very young teens still are. I hate to admit this, but there were things I expected of my eldest son that I shouldn't have expected of him quite so young. For example, I wondered if he "had some problem" when he had such difficulty keeping his room clean for more than an hour. I didn't allow myself to act on my "wondering" (which, I guess, allowed me to remain a reasonable mother on the outside). Secretly, though, I wondered if he had some problem. Also, I did keep after him (even if with compassion and firm but reasonable understanding) about the room when it got really out of hand.

At the time, because he was my eldest child, most of my friends' kids were younger than he was. Eventually, I would start to meet more mothers with older kids; and I started to realize my son was far from "immature" when it came to the room matter. He was a normal kid.

When my kids and I were younger, I'd often judge something someone older than I, and with older kids, did. I knew "how easy" it is to have kids who behave and respect parents. I knew a couple of mothers who had "problem teens" (REAL problem teens), and I thought I knew how I would handle things if I found myself with such a problem teen. I wondered why these other mothers "didn't just" do one thing or another. Well, you know what? When my kids reached their teens years I started to understand why those other mothers did some of the things they did. Fortunately, my kids didn't become such "problem teens" (although one was a lot less problem-free (and I mean a LOT less problem-free) than his siblings). Still, I didn't find myself in the same situation some of those other mothers did. Even with that, though, I finally understood how mothers feel about their teens, what the worries are, and how life is nowhere near as simple with teens as it is with newborns or ten-year-olds.

In other words, I've grown as a person. In fact, I'd say I've grown a lot smarter and a lot more understanding as a mother. Even a person without children at all may have more understanding that a fifteen-year-old is still so very young, and being immature is pretty much a part of the deal, if that person, herself, is 40, as opposed to 25. If you think of it, the 45-year-old mother (who had her child at 30) with a 15-year-old is more likely to understand her child's "immaturity" than the mother of a child born when she was 19 or younger.

My point is that when it comes to adopting an older child who, no matter how generally "OK" he is, will need a particularly mature, wise, strong, and understanding mother; older mothers do have something to offer than younger mothers, no matter how capable, loving, and even mature they are, can. What a newborn needs isn't all that complicated. As children get older, what they need gets more complicated. Further, it takes more maturity and strength to provide it.

That night, as I browsed the Internet, looking for information about adopting older children (I was thinking about a two-to-four-year-old), I found a nationwide site that showed pictures and synopses of children's stories. As I went from one child's picture to another, I felt the tears streaming down my face.

"Brian's new mother will ideally be a nurse trained in...", or "Jennifer's new mother will need to know how to provide 24-hour medical care". There were little faces of babies born to drug-addicted birth mothers, with all kinds of medical equipment required to keep them alive. There were two-year-olds with faces and head-shapes that showed the devastating effects of their prenatal environment. Notes about how adoptive mothers should have no children or their own were under some children's pictures.

Clearly, even if I felt emotionally capable of adopting a child like that, I was far, far, from qualified. Also (and here's where my "weakness as a person" comes in), even if I could adopt one of those children; I have to say I couldn't "take on" all the sadness and the fact that some of those children will not live past childhood, if that. Why I even went as far as to ponder whether or not I could adopt such a child I don't know. I guess I felt it was important to understand myself better. What I realized is that I've been through an awful lot of grief and loss in my life, and I think I've been left all the less able to invite more as a result of it. Here is where, even when we aren't particularly all that certain what we believe about God's existence at any given moment, there can be that tendency to hope we will be forgiven for being so "weak" we cannot possibly ask for yet more heartbreak. I relieved my conscience by reminding myself that I would not qualify to adopt one of those babies. I wondered what will become of them, and I told myself that there's a good chance they're receiving lots of love in a capable foster home or even a hospital, where the staff aims to provide what the child needs (at least for now).

So, I moved on to children a little older. I selected the 5-year-old category, and saw children who were said to have emotional and/or behavioral problems. There were statements like, "Justin has difficulty controlling the urge to take things that belong to other people," and "Molly is working on her anger-control problem in therapy." Almost more sobering were notes that suggested the child should not be around younger children. As it happens, I've had exposure to a lot of children who have been placed in foster care and/or adopted as older children (two as young as two/two-and-a-half). I have seen that a lot of the problems some of these children have are not problems that will be cured. They're things the parents and child will learn to live with. Some of those things are harder to live with (and sometimes even impossible to live with without having a life completely thrown into chaos in ways that only reveal themselves with time) than others.

My heart breaks for those troubled little kids, and looking at the faces of teens waiting to be adopted isn't much easier. The problem for me is that my life (once close to a perfect life) was thrown into chaos when I left my marriage, and although that chaos has died down, I still, in a lot of ways, feel as if I'm Dorothy in Oz, hoping to find my way back home (to my REAL life - the life I would have without compllications introduced into it by the legal system).

On the one hand, my life (and I) are pretty normal and stable. On the other hand, with so many years of lingering legal matters that have complicated and compromised my life in ways that aren't obvious to anyone but me; as with the physically damaged babies waiting for adoption, I just don't feel ready to invite more struggles and complications into my life. I'm still waiting to get back that life that was so simple, under control, and stable.

Since the night I sat, seeing how many "hard-to-place" children wait to be adopt, and having my eyes opened as to the degrees of some of their problems; I haven't completely abandoned the idea of possibly adopting an elementary-school-aged child at some point. Although I was able to continue being like EverReady Battery's "Energizer Bunny" right up until the last couple of years, over the last couple of years those "background complications" in my own life have begun to wear away at me. (That can happen after the first 20 years of stress, I guess.) As I write this, I'm not in any position or shape to even consider adopting a child. Still, I do know that if it weren't for my age, and if I got a call tonight, saying I could be handed a newborn tomorrow; I'd be more than willing and able to adopt that infant.

Since age is now a factor, though, and since adopting an older child requires more, not less, "mental energy" and strength; for now, I've set aside the idea of adopting one child as something I haven't ruled out if/when my situation changes soon enough.

As to the question about whether someone else should adopt an infant or an older child, I think (as I said earlier) that depends on too many different things for anyone to offer a solid opinion. I do think that the issues I've discussed here (and that apply in my own life) are the kinds of issues that everyone considering adoption needs to consider with objectivity, brutal honest, and sincere self-examination..