There are many different paths people take to parenthood, some longer and fraught with more barriers than others. Growing up as the oldest of three children, Joy Woodson developed an affinity for caring for others. From an early age, she knew that she would one day seek adoption as a means to motherhood, though she never imagined it would be the only way she would be able to have a child.
In constant, debilitating pain, Woodson knew something was amiss with her reproductive health, and she was eventually diagnosed with endometriosis, PCOS, and fibroids. She was told that if she ever wanted to have children, she would need help from a specialist.
“I figured it would be easy when I walked into the fertility clinic in 2015. Modern medicine and all. It wasn’t,” Woodson shares with EBONY. “I tried and tried to get pregnant, and it just didn’t work. I had several surgeries to help, and nothing panned out. Every month I would take pregnancy tests, and every month it was negative. Because I always knew I would adopt a child, it was an easy decision to move on from fertility treatments and to set myself on the path to giving a child who needed one a home. I drew a line in the sand with the amount of money I was willing to spend on fertility treatments, and that was that.”
“Every month I would take pregnancy tests, and every month it was negative. Because I always knew I would adopt a child, it was an easy decision to move on from fertility treatments and to set myself on the path to giving a child who needed one a home.”
Joy Woodson
Joy tried adoption through the foster care system; however, that did not work either. In 2020, she was nearing the end of the process to adopt a teenager when one Saturday morning, with no warning, a social worker knocked on her door.
“They took all the child’s things, she was loaded into a burgundy four-door car, and I never saw her again. I was done. I was out of money and out of steam—or so I thought. My therapist encouraged me to give it one more try, so I did in 2021. I pulled money from the equity in my home, started the process for private adoption, and hired consultants. I was told it could take 18 months. And I told them: I’m only doing this for a year. If I don’t have a baby by May 2022, that’s it,” recalls Woodson.
In November 2021, she was matched with an expectant mother. And in February, she received the call that the mom was headed to the hospital to give birth. She rushed from Georgia to Kentucky so that she could be there for the labor and delivery, in the room with the birth mother.
“When my daughter was born, the nurse handed her to me, and we’ve been a team ever since. In May, the adoption was finalized, and so was her new name.”
Though Woodson’s story ultimately had a happy ending, the process was quite a challenging ordeal. From the beginning, she was told that as a single, Black woman who wanted to adopt, she was a unicorn as agencies typically see white, married couples looking to adopt.
“It really hasn’t been until recent times that single parents were allowed to adopt, but there are still many agencies who will not work with you unless you are married,” Woodson says. “Or they purposely show expectant moms more profiles from white, married couples. The birth mom who picked me said she only wanted me as her choice. Later, she told me that the agency kept prodding her to choose more than one family, and those families were mostly white couples. She wanted her child to be raised by a Black woman, so she picked me with abandon and stuck with that choice. The number of single, Black women choosing to be single moms and to adopt is increasing, but it’s still not the norm.”
In addition to the struggle to be seen, coming up with the funds necessary to adopt was another obstacle Woodson had to overcome. Private adoptions can be very expensive due to the number of professionals–lawyers, social workers, doctors, agencies–involved in the process.
“Then some expectant moms need a lot of monetary assistance to get to the labor date and beyond, which was the case with my child’s adoption. Without generational wealth or a super, high-paying job, I didn’t have a stash of $40,000 to $50,000 set aside for a random, rainy day. Once I secured the money by pulling equity from my home, I then had several things come up to whittle those funds down below $30,000. I didn’t tell anyone, but I scoured the internet to find grants. Surprisingly, I was able to get $20,000 in grant money, which is highly unusual. I’m very fortunate. If it weren’t for those grants, I would not have been able to pay for everything.”
“Don’t take yourself out of the driver’s seat. If motherhood is something you really want, use your voice, say what you want. Work toward it.”
Joy Woodson
After adopting her daughter, Woodson’s first year of motherhood was a rough one. The world was in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. She was balancing working a 9-5 and launching a business, all while being a new mom of an infant. She barely slept and was exhausted all the time.
“Your village doesn’t have to be 20 people, either. Whether it’s someone you just chat with, someone who helps babysit, someone who picks up your dog’s prescriptions—just people who care enough to be of assistance or let you vent. Find your people. It makes a difference,” she says.
“The other thing I tell people all the time: Don’t take yourself out of the driver’s seat. If motherhood is something you really want, use your voice, say what you want. Work toward it. Don’t let the failings of the adoption industry be the thing that keeps you from being a mom. Don’t listen to the naysayers. If it is meant for you, it is for you. Your child will find you. I told myself this all the time, I manifested success, and my daughter is the realization of a dream deferred. I am grateful.”