To Russia with Devastation

My heart is broken.  The last time I felt this sad was the day and weeks following my 2nd miscarriage.   Because, in some ways, that's what happened.

We spoke today with the doctor at Cincinnati Children's International Adoption Clinic and she said there were many "red flags" about our referral.  While I understand that the child we will receive will highly likely have been exposed to alcohol in the womb, I also understand that there is definitely a "threshold" level at which the baby begins to experience effects, so not every child exposed to alcohol has fetal alcohol syndrome.  However, this child appears at "high risk" according to the doctor, for having fetal alcohol syndrome.  Several of the "indicators" for fetal alcohol syndrome were present in this child: extremely small birthweight, extremely small head size, and continued poor growth with continued poor head size, not all of which can be accounted for by life in an orphanage.  From several things in the medical report the doctor also indicated the child may have been exposed to congenital infections, and drugs.  While the child's facial features were not distinctive for fetal alcohol syndrome, there were a few things that the physician noticed which may or may not have indicated it.  However, given the child's birth history, weight, and growth, there were so many parameters indicating to the doctor that the child had significant alcohol exposure which likely impacted her brain development.  Additionally, the report documented that the mother drank.  Apparently, it is very unusual for the reports to document that the mother drank, because almost all mothers over there drink as it is an accepted social norm.  The doctor said that typically, when it is documented, that is a red flag that the mother drank excessive amounts.

When we started this process, Tim and I decided that we could not accept a child with known or highly suspected fetal alcohol syndrome.  I am about to be a doctor, and I cannot give such a child the parenting she needs if I am a working mother.  I also don't feel I could give my other children the parenting they need if I had a child who required such extended attention.  Long term, the doctor said, she would not expect this little girl to do well.  Also, she indicated that often children with fetal alcohol syndrome have behavioral and learning problems that prohibit them from acquiring the executive decision making skills they need to be fully functional and independent adults. This is just not something Tim and I are equipped to deal with long term, and while we understand that we might get this anyway, either from a biological or adopted child, with no prior indicators, it is a situation we need to avoid if we have the "objective findings" as the doctor called it, ahead of time.

I have to trust the doctor, that she is right and good at her job.  She has seen hundreds of internationally adopted children and is a mom to 3 internationally adopted kids. I have to defer to her expertise and turn down this referral even though I feel like I have been hit by a bus.

This little girl is a strikingly beautiful girl and to look at her picture and know she desperately needs a family and know she is living in an orphanage and tell her "no," well, that just kills me. I feel subhuman. I also feel incredibly unsure of our future. While I was so confidant before that we would get what we wanted, now I find myself saying, "will we ever get a child who fits our family? How long until we get another referral? Am I going to have to wait another 6 months for a referral?"  We were so fortunate to get a referral for such a young child, and I know the chances of that happening again are very, very slim.  So again I feel so uncertain and so sad about having to turn this down.  No one can answer these questions. I just have to trust that things will work out--that what God started in our family, He will complete.  I have said to Tim several times, "maybe we should just accept her, and hope for the best." But Tim keeps reminding me, we have been given enough information to know that hoping probably won't work.  This is a child I am adopting. I cannot send her back, I cannot change my mind. I cannot regret this decision. I am not buying a scarf.  I am not picking a dog out at a shelter.  I cannot adopt her out of guilt. I cannot adopt her because I am afraid that another one will not come along. I cannot adopt her because I long for a little girl. I have to make the right decision for my family and my future.  But in doing so, I feel like I have just killed this child. I pray she finds a wonderful home with a patient mother who can bring her up the way she needs.  Because I loved this little girl.  I fell in love with her.  For 48 hours I was her mother. It's impossible to explain this to you, reading this, how I can see a picture of a child and feel a connection to her as if she is my own, but that is how I feel.  The doctor stated that when she was adopting her 3 kids she also turned down several referrals.  Even though that was 20+ years ago, she said, she still remembers each of those kids she turned down, their names, their pictures, their stories. I suppose this is common.  Perhaps therein lies the miracle of how you can adopt children and love them just as much as your own biological children. 

I am sad.  I have every right to be sad because this is a very, very, sad thing.  The saddest. In a way, it feels like my 3rd miscarriage. That is the only other experience I have had in my life where I felt this profound sense of loss and hopelessness butting up against this very real and very powerful desire to be a mom to another child.

And so, we wait.  More waiting.  And pray that we don't wait another 6 months for a phone call with "Medina, OH" on its caller ID.  And also pray that when we do, that child is a good fit for our family.  A family I spoke with at the adoption picnic in June said that they turned down a referral and that it was 8 months until they received another one.  I asked the mother what the hardest part of her entire adoption process was, bringing home her children, and everything involved and she said that the hardest part was the wait after turning down the first referral.  I get it now.  But alas, here we go.  This time we have no time frame, and that is the most frustrating part of waiting.  I guess, in a way, the analogy of having a miscarriage really works.  The loss of something only magnifies your desire for it more, and makes its absence in your life that much more devastating.