by Keith Wallace

We often receive letters and cards (not often enough) sharing with us the joys of adoption and parenting. All that we receive is read and celebrated. Once in a while we receive a letter where everything has not or is not going as well as planned or hoped for when the adoption started. These letters are also important as they remind us all of the reality of adoption and parenting.

Following is a thoughtful and honest letter from someone who really struggled for a while:

Letter from an adoptive mother

Hi all -

We have been back from China since the 21st of January, but I have not had the time, nor felt like posting very much.

On the 9th we were handed our second child. My husband, my parents, and my precious 3 year old, Jessica, were there for the big event. It was a foggy, damp, cold day. The room was dark and cold, but we were filled with anticipation. We saw a child we thought was our newest little angel. She was healthy looking and smiling. I had craved seeing that smile since we received our referral picture. In all the pictures, including the updated ones, she was very sober. Finally they called our name.

Eric (my husband) had requested that he get to receive this child, since my arms were the first to hold our first child, Jessica. I agreed. The child that was handed to my husband was not the child we had seen earlier. This child had fever red cheeks, had 4 layers of clothes on the top and 3 on the bottom. Her bottom was soggy. She was screaming in fear (and I was to learn later, pain). She was placed in Eric's arms, took one look at him and literally launched herself into mine. The clothes and hair of the child carried the scent of a kerosene heater. My mother was holding Jessica and my father was busily snapping pictures as they herded us to the back of the room so the other babies could be presented. As I sat down with this child in my arms, stuck to the front of me like Velcro, the mother in me kicked in and I tried to comfort her. The first thing I noticed after she stopped crying was that she was not cooling down – this child had a fever. The second thing I noticed was an angry, infected looking sore at the back of her neck. While taking all of this in, my precious little Jessica looked at me and asked "Mommy, is this my Ellie?" When I replied in the affirmative, she said that we had to sing her our song. So we started…

About half way through the first verse I realized that I was now the mom of 2. This little child that I had been afraid to anticipate was finally in my arms. It took the simplicity of my darling Jessica laying claim to her to bring that home to my heart. Once all the children had been presented to their new parents we headed out the door and back to the bus. Ellie remained stuck to the front of me, head buried in my chest, not in the least interested in the 4 other people who were so eager to meet her.

We got back to the hotel where I stripped her to determine exactly the size of the child that lay beneath all those layers. First I found a tiny neck, strong little arms, a rib cage I could see, but still had enough flesh on it to be considered healthy, a meaty little bottom and thighs, and the longest toes I had ever seen. She complained loudly at this process, and constantly squirmed around. I turned her over to find a fiery red rash, 3 infected, open areas, and multiple scratch marks from where she had been tortured by itching. Her skin was hot to touch, her cheeks remained red, and the look in her eyes was total misery. There were marks on her hips where her diaper had been tied onto her with a bungee cord. I bundled her up, called our coordinator and requested to have someone look at her back. I was told that the orphanage director was a doctor and would be there that afternoon and would look at it. Meanwhile, this bundle of misery was burying herself back into my chest and would not look at anyone else in the room.

This was not the beautiful Gotcha Moment that we had experienced with our first daughter. I was terrified of how sick this child looked and acted. She would take only 3 ounces of formula. The only emotions she showed were those that could be expressed through crying. I could find no way to comfort her. So I did the only thing I could do, I let her cling to me and prayed.

That evening I headed down to our coordinator's room where the orphanage director was available to meet us and answer any questions that we may have. He looked at my Ellie's back and said it was a heat rash. I questioned him about the open areas and he assured me that they would go away quickly – just like a heat rash, quick to show up and quick to disappear. I watched his eyes when he told me this. I could not really identify what they were telling me, but I knew he was not telling me the truth. I also asked if my daughter had a nickname. I was told she did not.

Then I asked why she was named what she was and if there was a special meaning behind her naming. He spoke to our coordinator for translation, trying not to look at me as he answered, but it was as if he could not help himself but to look at me when he answered. "No, there is no special reason for her name. She was named. There are just so many children." There was such sadness in his eyes and fatigue in his face. I knew he had answered me truthfully and regretted that he was unable to tell me something more.

I left the room feeling very sad, very scared, and very helpless. I was tired. My arms hurt. I was afraid to let Jessica get close to this child until I was sure that it was truly only heat rash. And the worst part, I was feeling no connection to this child. When I looked at this little person I did not see someone I recognized or loved. All I felt was the weight of the responsibility of taking care of her. I went back to the room and posted to our Yahoo group that we had her and that I was tired. I could think of nothing else to say. That night the only way we could get her comfortable enough to sleep was to give her Tylenol and Benedryl. I lay awake that night troubled by my own thoughts. I was not sure I even wanted to continue this – we had a very happy family with just Jessica. Was I doing the right thing bringing this very sick and needy child into it? What effect would it have on Jessica? Was I capable of meeting the needs of everyone? Finally I dozed off.

The next morning we finalized the adoption. Even with all of the doubts in my heart, we went through with the process and gave her our name. She was now officially part of our family. She still would not look at Eric. Her back looked just as bad. She was still not feeling well. She continued to only let me hold her and demanded that I hold her constantly. She already exhibited extreme jealousy of any attention that I showed Jessica. I was sinking deeper and deeper into fear of what we had done. Everyone told me that I looked tired, but I don't think anyone recognized the level of panic that I was experiencing.

The weather did not help – it was cold, damp, foggy, and altogether uncomfortable. The weather continued in this fashion all the way through the day that we left. During our 6 days in Nanchang, Ellie's back continued to show new lesions. She also showed me during one screaming fit that she had 8 teeth trying to come in. She continued to demand my undivided attention. She refused to acknowledge Eric. She was not eating well. And to increase the tension, she started having diarrhea stools. I was at wits end.

This was not close to anything that I had emotionally prepared myself for! I was totally overwhelmed and close to a depressive breakdown. During one 31 hour period Ellie would not allow me to put her down, and would scream if I moved out of anything other than 3 positions that she found comfortable. I had made a commitment to this child, and that was the only reason that I continued to meet her needs. I still did not feel any emotional connection to this child at all. I finally called back to the States to speak with the pediatrician on call. Ellie was pulling at her ears and was continuing to run temps. The lesions on her back were continuing to look infected and were not responding to the antibiotic ointment I had been applying the recommended 3 times a day. He gave me the dose to give her of the antibiotic that I had brought with me. Within 48 hours Ellie was obviously feeling better, but by this time I was so physically and mentally exhausted that I could not appreciate the strides she was making. All I could do was feel intense gratitude that she would allow my parents to hold her somewhere around day 4. Looking back at the pictures I am so amazed that I missed the dramatic transformation of this child from a bundle of misery to a bundle of spoiled rottenness with an adorable grin. Of course I never really saw the grin since it was caught on camera as she showed it right before turning her head back into my chest.

Finally we headed to Guangzhou. We landed to warm temperatures and sites that I recognized. I was ready for this. The first morning at the White Swan we met up with the other group from FTIA. One of the parents who traveled with that group was a pediatrician. She heard about our trouble and came over to take a look at Ellie's back. After going through the same thought processes I had, she finally looked at me and said she thought it was scabies. I was mortified that I had not recognized it. She was kind and said that Ellie's back was not a typical presentation. And suddenly I understood the expression on the orphanage director's face when he told me the rash was only a heat rash. It was fear – fear that if he told me the truth I would refuse to take this child.

We began treatment that night. Ellie seemed to calm down immediately. By the end of the 3 days of treatment there were no new lesions and the ones that had not become infected were healing up. Ellie became a new child. Once again, I missed the transformation because of the intense fatigue and the overwhelming emotional stress. We did not do all the shopping that we had planned because I was physically not up to doing it. I was frustrated at not being able to do the things that I had so looked forward to doing in Guangzhou. I was getting angry at everyone.

The focus of my anger was Ellie, but I took it out on everyone else because I could not admit to myself that I really did not like this child that I had adopted.

The trip home was long and arduous – 3 hotels and 4 flights. When we finally disembarked at the airport at home and walked up the ramp, all I wanted to do was sit down and cry. I was so thankful to be home. One of my friends came running up to us and threw her arms around me and Ellie. I just sobbed into her shoulder. I can never explain how wonderful it was to see those faces when I thought I could not take any more. These were people who would support me through the rough days to come – they were rested and not trying to adjust to their own new family members. I had access to medical treatment from practitioners that I could understand.

One week after returning home I was still not getting a full night's rest. Ellie was at least becoming comfortable enough in her surroundings to let me put her down and let her play on the floor. Her back was healing. The tests were in that she did indeed have Giardia (a parasite). She had been seen by the pediatrician and the International Adoption Clinic and pronounced healthy. But I still was not feeling anything close to maternal love for this child. Then slowly she started showing me more than just a cry to meet her needs. She was smiling at me. She was teasing me with little games that she made up. She was mimicking me. She was showing excitement when Eric and Jessica would come in the door after being gone all day. She still would not allow Eric to approach her, but she was not screaming when he looked at her, either.

Two weeks after being home, I was playing with her on the floor when she came up to my face and placed her open mouth next to mine in a baby kiss. She pulled back and grinned at me. Finally my heart opened. I felt that wall of resentment and anger regarding the entire situation begin to melt. This was my new child. She is a totally different person than my first child. She is mine. As the days continue to pass and we get to know each other better, more and more of her personality are revealed to me and I love each aspect of it. Finally she let Eric hold her and give her a bottle this past Monday. I had a few minutes to cuddle with Jessica without Ellie trying to compete for my lap. I felt the pieces of our family finally fitting together. And today as I rocked her before her nap, I could look her in the eye and say with all of my heart – "I love you."

I do want to clarify something – never did I expect this child to be like Jessica. I was anticipating getting to learn about a new person. But I did not expect my reaction to her needs when faced with reality. It was scary and humbling. It was emotionally brutal. But it was oh so worth it!

Thanks for letting me vent –

Nancy

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