He Won't Be Our Son

We thought we were going to China. The baby with the fuzzy hair and chubby cheeks, whose nannies had nicknamed "Pumpkin" was going to be ours if we said yes.  We had found our son, we thought. The wait was finally over.  Then an e-mail appeared in my inbox from the International Adoption Clinic with unexpected news.  

Our agency had called me in mid-March with the referral of a ten-month-old boy with a repaired cleft lip, unrepaired cleft palate and a possible heart condition.  His file was a partnership file, meaning that he lives at an orphanage our agency has a special relationship with.  This orphanage periodically sends our agency files they think can be matched among our agency's waiting families.  I received the call at work, where the China team liaison went through the basic information of the file and asked if we wanted to consider the referral. "Of course!" I said. 

All we received was nine pages, four pre-operative pictures taken months prior and one, just one, post-operative picture taken the day before.  There was nothing in his file that really caused me much concern, even the heart condition, but with my lack of medical knowledge, I wasn't sure what to look for.  When looking at his picture, though, all I could think was that something didn't seem right.  But one picture, especially one where he's not looking directly at the camera, wasn't enough to go on.  And besides, he seemed healthy. And Chris was so giddy over him.  

The doctor who reviewed his file at the International Adoption Clinic immediately had the same concerns I had when looking at his picture, and also said his medical report indicated possible developmental delays beyond what one would expect from an institutionalized child.  She asked us to request more information from the orphanage, a process our agency facilitated.

I didn't realize how agonizing the wait for this information would be.  One week went by, and then another.  Chris and I had agreed that we would not move on without answers to our questions.  It was frustrating to be in such limbo.  We wanted to talk about him as our son, but felt we couldn't.  

When we finally heard back from the orphanage, I was elated, but then frustrated that not all our questions were adequately answered and despite asking for a headshot like the doctor had requested, we were sent a picture, again just one, of him looking down!  Yet, what we saw in the new information was still promising.  In the videos they sent us, he looked happy and well-taken care of.  While we understood none of the Chinese spoken by the nannies, we could still make out his nickname, which his nannies cheerfully called to him.  After an emotional conversation, Chris and I decided we were going to officially say yes. 

The next day I was working on the acceptance paperwork and an e-mail from the doctor in response to the updated information I had sent her the day before appeared in my inbox.  I was expecting her to say that everything looked great, but instead she expressed serious concern about his lack of growth and the risks associated with that.  I immediately called the number at the bottom of the e-mail and was surprised to get a hold of the doctor directly on the first ring.  She explained how hard of a case this is because she couldn't confidently say that he was going to be fine.  In her gut she hoped that with love, good nutrition and enrichment provided by an adoptive family, he would quickly catch up to his peers and thrive.  But she kept going back to the growth charts where his measurements put him on the border of what she referred to as the "danger zone."  If his height, weight and head circumference measurements had been in that zone, she would have definitely concluded he will experience permanent cognitive delays.

Chris and I were shocked by this news.  We feel fully prepared cleft lip and palate and the surgeries and therapies our child will require, but not for delays that mean our child will never live fully independently.  It broke my heart to say no to a child who might have more serious issues, but I don't think I was ever going to be comfortable with 50/50 chances.  Given time, we might have been able to better assess his needs, but in the adoption process, we don't have the gift of time.  We have to make a final decision shortly after a referral. 

I go back and forth between feeling guilty and sadness and feeling at peace with our decision.  Our agency promised me they would be able to find a family for this child, but I don't know if they just said that to make me feel better.  I definitely didn't feel better that night when I stopped in Soren's room to kiss him goodnight before I went to bed.  I bent over to kiss him and he nuzzled me and I stroked his hair.  And I cried at the thought that I have no idea if the child I'm leaving behind has someone too who will check on him tonight, find his fallen pacifier or missing polar bear stuffed animal, and kiss and love him.