Sharing Our Most Recent Adoption Story

The Beautiful Mess

This post is not a feel good post and I probably won't purposely share except on those sites where other parents have felt called to adopt and know the risks and struggles of choosing to go where others don't and the possibility that there won't be a "happily ever after" this side of heaven. We chose to add another child to our full family, we chose to adopt an older child, we chose to say yes to a child with a severe handicap and we chose to go to the other side of the world. Because of this most people feel we have no reason to complain (it was our decision) and no reason to expect that others will help with anything other than prayers. (Sorry if I offended but that's the way it is) I write this post simply because most adoption posts show the ups without the downs. We all want to encourage adoption and so are careful not to show the cracks. I am an advocate for adoption and have always been careful to keep it positive but now I realize that it isn't right to show potential adoptive parents only the good. We love all our kids but as with all things, there is good and bad and if you are on the journey of adoption, it is harder to parent or take the leap if you feel alone. So this is one mom's account of the journey which was a little way from the ideal.

Both my husband and I felt unprepared before we left due to the special need our daughter has (brittle bones.) We didn't know what condition our daughter would be in when we met her, or if she would need medical care while we were in country. How would we toilet, bathe and transfer her with all the traveling? We took a big breath and got on that airplane.

Once we met our daughter, the stress and our doubts about our ability to parent this child increased. We never doubted our ability to love her; that was a given and immediate, however, once back at the hotel we began to notice that this "sweet girl" as noted on all her paperwork, had more issues than her medical need. She displayed multiple twitches and facial ticks. We reasoned that they could be due to the fact that she was in a room with severely developmentally disabled children and was mirroring what she saw. But they were so frequent that we could not rule out a neurological problem. We looked for signs the 2nd day that they weren't as severe as the previous day but might have been looking too hard. Along with this was the surprise we had that this new daughter had not been taught anything: not discipline, not manners, not self-control. The first week I was peed on, spit on, slapped, pinched and bit. If you've ever seen the movie "Helen Keller" you have an idea of what I mean.

Being "In country" and having a guide does not mean that you have an allie. We tried to share with our guide some of our doubts looking for reassurance, we even contacted our agency's facilitator who asked me if everything was all right? to which I replied that we were nervous. At this point we were on day 2 and in the middle of our adoption process at the governmental office. What could we do but forge ahead? Our guide either didn't understand our questions or was trying to avoid them (what was she to do?) At one point I told her we had to walk outside and couldn't stay in the hotel room. She asked why and I tried to explain about the twitching and the slapping but there was no response or advice. We hoped that when we visited the orphanage the next day we would understand more of where she came from and an explanation of some of her behaviors and this would help us with empathy and maybe an epiphany of some kind.

Our daughter seemed excited to go back to the orphanage even though the day was rainy and dreary. She led the way through the maze of halls and into the elevator. I remember being shocked at how run down the orphanage looked since it was built in 2000 and had been "state of the art." The floor tiles were chipped and there were cracks in the walls. Nothing could have prepared me for the room she led us to, the one she had called home for more than 2 years. There were about 15 children; some laying flat in wheelchairs that reclined, some in pens (sorry, I can't call them play pens) and a couple sitting or standing waiting to be fed. There was a lead nanny who spoke to us while 2 helpers shoveled food into the mouths of these very disabled children. All these children deserve families and were being cared for but all I could think of was Why did you place our daughter here??? I politely asked the question and was told she wouldn't have been safe from breaks if she had been in with more healthy children. My husband and I now understood her facial ticks and mannerisms to be learned behaviors but we both felt sick to our stomachs. There was no smiles or communications of familiarity between our daughter and any of the Ayis; she didn't want to share their lunch, only show us her crib and look for her friend.

We walked down a few more halls to a couple classrooms where some type of activity was being given to some of the more mildly disabled kids were. Her friend, a 15 year old boy came out to have a picture with her. Whether he was shy or uncomfortable I don't know but he only said hello and looked off into the distance as we took thier picture. There was no conversation between them though apparently they had been close enough for him to cry upon her leaving the home. We hope he was as a big brother to her but we will probably never know.

After another day of sightseeing, we were off to the airport to navigate cancelled flights, bus rides and pushy crowds despite our agency saying that we wouldn't have a repeat of our experience of 5 years ago (it was an exact replica except for the fact that this time I was carrying a handicapped child and praying I wouldn't drop her.) Once in a new city we hoped things would look up and we would have the chance to be with other adoptive families who could share our struggle. Our guides were again blasé about anything negative we tried to communicate. We did see other families at our medical appointment and the U.S. consulate with which we communicated our basic and common stories: where we were from, age of child, name of agency and that it was going o.k. But with the exception of one dad who had a crying boy attached to his leg and looked like he had been in a cat fight, the other families seemed to be bonding well.

Each day we saw slight improvements; there was a request for a hug or kiss or she would hold my hand as we wheeled her down the many streets.These would then be followed by a pinch, screach or spit when we told her no to something. We were thankful that medically she was doing well and we didn't have to use the splints or diapers we had brought. We were thankful that she was spunky and didn't let her bent legs stop her from scooting all around the hotel room. These traits would help her with all she was going to have to face in the coming weeks and months. Yet we mourned the loss of cuddles and the inability of her accepting us as authority figures. Even at one point shaking her head no to our "love you."

Now we are home and beginning to settle in. She was very excited to see her siblings whom she had been skyping with for 2 weeks. She took in the new home, dogs and all with a brave can-do attitude. She has still told me no and slapped me and we probably have a long road ahead of us both physically and emotionally. I guess my reason for posting is because our first international adoption was so positive and though we knew this would be different we were not prepared for what we saw as rejection. I expect that a year from now I will have more positives than negatives to share; however, I hope I have the courage to tell prospective parents the whole truth: adoption involves both beauty and sacrifice.