Adoptable

I recently had a conversation with an adoption agency about congenital quads. I’ve never seen a congenital quad eligible for adoption from [this country], a case manager said. I think it’s possible that [this country] finds them “unadoptable.”

She wasn’t quoting a country’s official adoption policy. She was just making a statement based on her experience. From firsthand experience I know that certain countries either officially or unofficially think certain diagnoses make children “unadoptable.” Cerebral Palsy springs to mind as one such diagnosis. I believe that Down Syndrome in some cases may be another. The adoption community is certainly familiar with the idea that children “age out” becoming ineligible for adoption at various ages in various countries, in spite of the fact that there are numerous families seeking to adopt older children. 

The idea that a limb difference might make a child unwanted isn’t confined to the idea of adoption. Pregnancies are terminated for children being the wrong gender, certainly families abort because a baby is missing limbs.

I’ve never been in a delivery room or with an ultrasound tech and received unexpected news. I get that. I had the luxury of time and research and connecting with other families before Ying came home. As a family we spoke to medical professionals before we reached a decision. I’m aware that nothing was thrust upon me.

But that doesn’t change a reality. My daughter lives a vibrant, beautiful life. We live a vibrant, beautiful life.

Is life harder sometimes? Sure it is. But there is just as much crying because the Tinkerbell plate is dirty and she’s reduced to the horrors of a plain pink one as there is because she doesn’t want to go up the stairs by herself or because her arm isn’t long enough to wipe the sand the wind flung into her eyes.

A day is coming when I have to answer the question of why. I don’t have an answer. I don’t have so many answers.

What I do know is I have now. I have this moment and maybe the one two seconds after it, and I’d better make the most of them. That’s all that’s guaranteed.

Could I be struck down tomorrow by infirmity, illness or death? Yes. Could my beautiful  husband, my precious kids?  Yes. Please, God, no. We’re not exempted or insulated, no one is. The only promise of tomorrow is that it will come (with or without us) and that we will not be alone. That He will never leave us or forsake us.

I hope I live every day like I believe that.

I hope I do.
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Read this interesting article from Compassion International about disabilities. Here’s an excerpt: “I vividly remember meeting one mother in Zambia,” Corwyn says. “It was like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was just slumped over and held a baby in her arms. She was so ashamed. But when I pulled back that baby’s blanket, the only thing ‘wrong’ with him was that he was missing a thumb. That’s all! She told me that as soon as the father saw the child’s deformity, he left. She’s never seen him again.”