This week I’ve been thinking a lot about adoption because we’ve spent a lot of this week with our next-door-neighbors who have just brought home their two new children from India. It has gotten me thinking about some of the things people have said to me over the past couple of years about adoption. One person, a total stranger who approached me in the grocery store one day to ask about Kyle and Owen, said something to the effect of: “Well I could never do it, but I think adoption is great for people who have the guts to do it… Of course, I just hope that those parents know what they’re getting into!” My first thought was, “Hmmm… let’s see… does any parent ever know what they’re getting into?!” Those of us who are adoptive parents sometimes commiserate about this with each other– about how often biological parents say things to us that convey how they think they know so much more about what they are “getting into” than adoptive parents do, and about how often biological parents tell us that they are “too scared” to adopt because “you just never know what you might get.” Well, the truth is, that any parent could be thrown for a loop at any moment… whether that is because of some problem discovered at the birth of their child (or at the adoption of their child), or three months or years or decades down the road. No, we don’t know what we’re “getting into”… ever. That’s part of the miracle and joy and heart-break of it all… for all of us who are parents — biological and adoptive.
Many kids who are adopted out of orphanages come home very frail. They are often malnourished. They are often emotionally traumatized. They are in rough shape — medically, emotionally, and pretty much in every way. But, kids adopted out of orphanages are strong and resilient too. And, at least from what I have seen, that strength and resiliency far outweighs the frailty. Children who have survived life in an orphanage in a place like Port-au-Prince Haiti have a strength and a resiliency that is miraculous and inspiring and beautiful. And these children need a lot of healing too. Parents who adopt children from these places believe in their hearts and souls that they can heal these children.
When we first met Kyle and Owen on January 31, 2005 they were eight months old and frail and sick and severely malnourished. When we finally got them home and got them to our pediatrician she told us, point blank, that they would not have “made it” much longer there. She told us, with the most emotionally-neutral medically- scientific tone imaginable: “You have saved these children.” They had all sorts of vitamin and nutrient deficiencies. Their bellies were distended. Their cheeks were bloated. Their hair was falling out. Their skin was rashy. They were weak. Their eyes were glazed over. They were semi-unresponsive and developmentally delayed. They cried mournfully in the night and sometimes had night terrors. Braydon and I believed, and we told ourselves everyday, “We can heal these children.” Every parent who adopts in a situation like this believes that.
People who see Kyle and Owen now, and don’t know the whole story, would probably not ever imagine the journey that they’ve been on to get where they’ve gotten. Just scroll through this blog and what you see is two gorgeous, healthy, THRIVING boys. At their 2-year-old “well baby” check up with our pediatrician she told us, with tears in her eyes, that K & O were some of the “healthiest, most thriving” toddlers she has ever seen. She looked me in the eye, and said to me (with both of us welled up with tears), “Do you remember how they were when you first got them? Do you even remember?” I said, “Yes, I remember.” And she said firmly to me — doctor to mother — “You do know what you have done, right? You do know that you have saved these children?” And I just nodded because I was too choked up to even say, “Yes.”
I never forget. Kyle and Owen will not remember (which is good), but I will always remember. And hopefully, when my sons look back on their life, the good will outweigh the bad. That is the hope that every parent holds for their child.
For a couple of years now Braydon and I have had a Maya Angelou quote hanging smack in the middle of our bathroom mirror (we put it there because that is the one sure place we’ll see it every single day). The quote is this:
“Home can heal. There is healing in Home.”
Kyle and Owen, First Day Home, February 2005
Owen and Kyle, Second Day Home, February 2005