The Child We Couldn't Adopt

Because we are open to parenting a “special needs” child, I’d been looking at the “Waiting International Children” pages of our adoption agency. Face after precious face smiles at you, all children who are either older, have medical issues that are more moderate to severe, or are both. 

Many of the kids simply need surgery or medical treatment, at which point, they should be able to have a great life. Some kids are dealing with intergender issues, which will mean helping the child to decide whether they feel like a girl or a boy, and dealing with the medical issues that come with that. There are some blind children and some deaf children who just need a home willing to parent kids with those conditions. There are also kids with much more severe disabilities; it’s hard to see their faces and imagine them without a family. 

In looking through these gorgeous faces, a 5-year-old boy stood out to my husband and I. In his picture, he’s smiling and leaning in, and there’s a spark to his eyes. In reviewing the brief overview on him, it said he had a condition where the ribs grow inward and often constrict the heart and lungs. Seeing that, it made sense to us that his bio also mentioned that he tired easily with exercise. 

I googled the condition and found out that it’s very correctable; in fact, surgery to repair the ribcage often reverses or instantly improves any cardiopulmonary issues. I then reached out to a couple of doctors to see if this might be the case here, and with the limited information I could give them, they both agreed that it could be - IF there was nothing else going on. 

At that point, we felt like we had a basic grasp of the issues and asked for his complete medical file, with the absolute intent to adopt him. In fact, we began making plans to send him to our local Montessori school as soon as we got back from China, since he’s been at an orphanage for his whole life and would be used to having kids around. We figured that even if he didn’t understand English at first, he’d feel more at home being with kids for a half-day than just being stuck with two adults in a totally new place. 

We received his file which contained the story of how he came to the orphanage, his life there, his likes and dislikes, and some heartbreaking information about a family that had apparently done a lot of testing on him–enough to the point that he believed he was being adopted and began telling everyone at the orphanage so. That family declined him; he still tells everyone he’s being adopted soon. 

I wanted to fly over there and pick him up the instant I read that. 

As part of his file, there were two videos of him picking up toys, singing the most adorable song in Chinese, and coloring. His caretaker obviously loves him; she smiles and laughs and gets him to look at the camera. Watching this precious child, our hearts melted. We were ready to make him our son.

But—we had one more hurdle to clear: The medical review. 

An important part of the process for international adoptions—and for many domestic ones—is the medical review, where a doctor who specializes in international adoption takes a complete look at all the medical information. In this child’s case, there were EKGs and medical reports with lots of medical terms. Most of it was in Chinese. 

I glanced at it before I sent it on to the international adoption doctor; some things seemed a little concerning (he was taking a couple of medications, for instance), but I was still SURE we could handle it. In my mind, we'd get him here, get him the best treatment we could, and change the outcome, giving him an incredible life. 

About a day later, the response came in from the doctor, and it was grim. 

It stated that he has a genetic syndrome and is in the early stages of congestive heart failure; the issue with the ribs was merely a symptom of a much larger picture, and fixing the ribs would not fix the heart. If he makes it for the next couple of years (and there was a good indication he might not), he’ll very likely need a heart transplant. If he manages to get a heart transplant, there's still a good chance he will die very, very young. 

I felt like I had been hit in the stomach. Actually, I wished I'd been hit in the stomach; that I could deal with. THIS felt like we'd just been told our child was dying of a heart condition. 

Tears streamed down my face as I tried to process the information. What do we do? Was there ANY way we could change this outcome? Was there any way we could save this child?

A soft knock came at my office door; my husband came in, and the second I looked at him, I knew he had seen the report, too. With tears in his eyes he said, "I don't know what to do here; I feel helpless to help this child. What do we do?" 

I stood up and hugged him, and we both cried harder than I think we ever have. 

You see, that's the thing about adoption. When you want to adopt and are ready to adopt, the child is already YOUR child, even if they aren't in your home yet. When you get news this devastating, it drops you to your knees. 

Gathering myself up a bit, I reached back out to the doctor, hoping more questions would somehow give a better response: 

“Would medical treatment change this outcome? What are the chances that we could improve his odds? Can he travel in this condition, or are we making it worse?” 

The responses back were incredibly compassionate, but firm: 

Medical treatment in the US might improve his situation a bit, but because this was a genetic condition, no medical treatment would reverse it. His odds weren't great, no matter what we did. He could potentially travel, but it would be stressful on him and we'd need to get him fully evaluated as soon as we got him home. It could also be too much for him and he could get much sicker much quicker.. 

And finally, the worst news of all: The stark reality is that there is little chance this child would make it to young adulthood with the degree of cardiovascular failure he was already facing. 

I felt like the bottom dropped out of my heart.

Armed with this information, my husband and I talked all weekend long about what we should do. Could we just take this child knowing that we'd lose him sometime in the (maybe near) future? What would his life be like going in and out of hospitals here? Do we have the financial ability to care for a child with cardiovascular failure? Was it even the right decision to uproot him from all he knows–and from all his friends and caretakers that love him—and bring him to a foreign land? 

On top of all of this, I carried an additional burden. You see, my husband was so ready to adopt this little guy that he hadn't even wanted to do the medical review in the first place. His attitude was that if he was our biological child, we'd just deal with whatever it was. Why did we need to know? By doing a medical review, he felt like we were saying that a child that was less than healthy wasn't worthy, and neither of us felt that way at all. 

I agreed, but had been counseled by our agency that it was critical to know what you were getting yourself into, because you needed to be 100% sure that you had the financial, emotional, and physical resources to be able to take that particular child. It serves no one for a child to be placed in a home that is not ready for him or her, or unable to care for his or her special needs. 

I felt so guilty; if I hadn't asked for the medical review, we would have just adopted him. We would have dealt with it going forward. If we now decided that we couldn't or shouldn't adopt him, had I sentenced him to the rest of his life in an orphanage, since other potential parents would now know for sure what was wrong with him? 

Even worse, if we didn't adopt him, would someone else put this precious child through invasive testing, getting his hopes up that he was being adopted, and then dashing them again? I still can't think about that without tears in my eyes. I felt like we were playing God with a child's life.

In the end, after much soul-searching, talking with medical professionals, and talking with our home study social worker, we had to come to the decision that we couldn't adopt this child. We felt like the most horrible, selfish people making that decision. It took me an entire hour to craft the email to the agency declining the adoption; I couldn't see the keys or my screen for all the tears streaming down my face. 

Our agency wrote us back immediately with the most compassionate response, letting me know that they WOULD be able to find a home for this child, and that us paying for the medical review actually helped his chances of being adopted, rather than hurt them. Gratefully, there are people who specifically look to adopt kids with cardiovascular issues; they are usually medical professionals with experience in taking care of a child with heart conditions. 

I did feel comforted in that knowledge, and I did feel some peace in knowing we made the right decision, but it didn’t take away the hole in my heart from having started to love this child and not be able to bring him into our lives. 

It's been a few months, and while we know we made the right decision both for us and the child, we still cry about it. My husband is just now able to discuss it with friends; before he would try to open his mouth and had to excuse himself from the conversation because he got so choked up. 

I think about this little boy every single day. I pray that he is well, and that he finds a wonderful home that can give him the best care possible. 

Let me also say that going through this has really increased my compassion for the difficult decisions people must make. Before this happened, I couldn’t understand how anyone would ever—EVER!—decline the adoption of a child. I don’t judge people for having to make that decision anymore; now I understand all too well. 

Read about the Baby We Couldn't Adopt.

4 Things to NEVER Say to Someone Who is Adopting

Being in the adoption process has been an eye-opener for me on every possible level. One thing I was not prepared for was the kinds of (usually well-meaning but misinformed) things people will say. 

Much of it seems to come from people not knowing what to say; after all, adoption isn't the "standard" way of growing a family. Other people want you to have a baby so much they say things they didn't think about first. And a few are just insensitive, opinionated, or obnoxious. 

In the hopes of saving some other "in-process-to-adopt" parent some grief, here are four things never to say to someone trying to adopt, and what you should say instead:  

1. It's taking so LONG!

Really? 'Cause we hadn't noticed. No, we've just been sitting around, sipping iced teas and fanning ourselves on our front porches. 

Listen, for many people, they've gone through years of infertility, miscarriages, and waiting. For others (like me), they've wanted to adopt since they were kids. Either way, we are very aware of how long it's taking; pointing it out doesn't help.

Not to mention, when you are expecting your biological child, you know when the baby is coming. You can wait with a sense of definite expectancy; there is a specific end point you can look forward to. You can also prepare with a certainty of a deadline, so to speak.

When you are adopting, you don't have that. You wait and hope for the match, and even when that comes, you don't know whether you will be matched with a birth mom who's giving birth in 6 months or a child in China that needs to be picked up in 6 weeks. Either way, it's a waiting and worrying game that takes it's toll on adoptive parents-to-be. 

What to say instead: 

"Hey, I bet you are getting close now! Have you thought of names?" (or something to that effect).

2. Aren't you worried about not knowing the full genetic background on the child? I mean, what if she was birthed by a druggie mom? 

With my sense of humor, I always want to respond: "Have you seen your gene pool? You've got some worries there, too, my friend."

In all seriousness, if you weren't worried about some latent gene showing up in your own child, then you were in denial. No one's gene pool is perfect.

As far as drugs go, yes, you can end up with a baby or child that was birthed by a mother on drugs, recreational or prescribed. However, you generally know that right away, as the child is tested at birth. 

Just like any child, there are challenges you cannot know until you actually have the child. And just like any parent, you'll deal with those challenges the best you can when they come. 

What to say instead: 

"Wow, it's so wild that your child could be out there right now, waiting for you! Is that hard to imagine?"  

3. Why do you have to hold off until you have enough money? Why don't you just max out some credit cards?

Short of adopting from foster care (see next point), adoption costs a great deal of money - somewhere in the neighborhood of $25,000 - $50,000+ (for international, with travel). Now, employers often have adoption reimbursement for some portion (generally $5,000 to $10,000), and you can also claim the adoption tax credit on your next tax return - currently around  $13,000. However, neither of those things pay out until AFTER you've adopted (and sometimes well after), so you are on the hook for all the money upfront and for many months after. 

When people asked me why I was holding off on submitting our application to adopt until we had money saved, I would explain that we don't think going massively into debt is the right way to start off our new family. I can't tell you how many reactions I got of, "Oh, don't worry about it! Just get started!"

And yet, none of these people offered to contribute to our adoption fund. Funny, huh? 

If you have kids, you know how many expenses come with just bringing them home. There are clothes and diapers and bags and doctor's visits and formula and a crib and...and...and. However, when you've had the child yourself, you aren't already out $25,000 or more, so it's a bit less concerning when you have to pay $1,500 to get all the newborn stuff you need. 

You've also likely had a baby shower, so you were given much of what you needed. In my experience, people don't think to throw a baby shower for people that are adopting. Even if people do think of it, it's always a possibility that you get called to adopt a baby who was left at a hospital, so you have about a day to get ready to bring the child home. Either way, you end up having to buy everything yourself.

What to say instead: 

"Hey, are you doing any fundraisers/selling items for your adoption fund? I'd help you pull it together or promote it for you!" 
"As soon as you are ready, let me throw you a baby shower. You let me know when you'd like to have it." 
"Let me know if you'd like my baby monitor/baby clothes/crib/whatever." 

4. Why don't you just adopt from foster care? It's pretty much free. 

We'd LOVE to - we really would. However, after calling on three different children on the AdoptFlorida.org website and leaving a heartfelt message on how we think that child would be a perfect addition to our family and getting NOT ONE call back, I started to wonder if it was even possible to get a child out of the system. Mind you, we were calling on kids who were 7 - 12 years old as well as sibling groups, so we weren't trying to get a newborn. 

After this disheartening experience, I called our home study social worker and asked if she could help. She quickly assured me that this was just how it was in the foster care system, and that it's almost impossible to get a child out at this point, even an older child. In fact, of all the people she works with, she's only seen 2 successful foster care adoptions in 5 years. 

She told me a story that encapsulated the issue for me: She's working with a 28 year old woman who has chosen to adopt because she was in the Florida Foster Care System from ages 6 to 12. Because of this, she'd like to give back by adopting. She's also got a Masters degree in Child Psychology, so it's hard to imagine a more perfect candidate.

She's called on 15 children over 3 years and has yet to be able to adopt ONE child. Either she's gotten no call back from the child's social worker, or her home study was "not approved for this child." When our social worker called to see why in the world her home study was not approved, they just gave her the run-around. 

Finally giving up, this woman is now trying to adopt an older child internationally. She, the perfect candidate for adopting from foster care, has been forced to give up by a system unbelievably broken. 

The saddest part is that she said, "You know, I thought no one wanted me for all that time I was in foster care; now I know that people wanted me, they just couldn't get me." 

For so many kids in foster care right this moment, this is their reality. It makes me sick that children are being served so poorly, and that they are being denied wonderful homes that want them. 

What to say instead: 

On this one, saying nothing is your best option. Believe me, many people have heartbreaking stories of trying to adopt from foster care; the faces of the kids I called on still haunt me, because I KNOW we could have them in our family right now, and they'd be cared for, safe, and happy. I can only hope that they are in a foster home that cares for them, but that is not the same as having your own family and your own place to call home. 

On another note, it's time we demand better for foster kids in this country. I'm not sure where to start, but maybe a call to local representatives would be a good place. 

Are you trying to adopt now? Or, are you an adoptive parent? What shocking things did people say to you and how did you respond? 

Update on article: 
I just wanted to note that the VAST majority of people are not saying any of this to be mean or inconsiderate; rather, they either don't really understand adoption (and until you do it yourself, you just wouldn't), or they really want you to get your baby as soon as possible. My intent in writing this article was to bring some light to the subject, and hopefully garner understanding on all sides. 

You are Not Your Disease: How to De-Personalize Illness and Ignite Healing

“MY allergies are killing me this year.”

“MY back pain is awful.”

“MY chronic bronchitis is getting so much worse.” 

“MY cancer is in remission. I hope it stays that way.”

Every time I hear the word “MY” attached to a pain, disease, or illness, I want to smack that word right out of the sentence. Why? Because the more you personalize an illness, the more power you give it to stick around.

Here’s why (and what to do about it): 

1. Words have frequency, and frequency creates your reality.

Scientists have proven that reality is actually just waves coming together to create that which we experience as physical life. Beyond that, my own work and research with The Flow Method has shown that the specific frequency (wavelength) of words and beliefs manifests specific pain or illnesses. 

Since every word has a unique frequency, word choice is critical to the healing process. When you personalize an illness by using words like “MY” or “I AM,” you take ownership of it; it’s literally YOURS. The more you take ownership of it, the more entrenched it becomes in your body and your reality. 

Do you really want a disease or pain to be yours? Not if you want to heal, you don’t. 

2. Disease and pain is not your identity. It’s a temporary aspect of who you are.

When people spend tons of time on health boards devoted to “their” illness, I cringe. When they sign each of their posts with their date of diagnosis, current medications, medical procedures done, and current statistics, I feel like screaming. By doing so, they’ve just made the illness their identity. 

If you want to remain sick, that’s fine. 

If you actually want to heal from said illness, it’s a problem. 

Why? Your subconscious mind believes whatever you tell it, so whatever you decide IS your identity STAYS your identity until you decide to change it.

For instance, if you identify yourself as shy, you’ll stay shy until you take action to be outgoing. If you identify as angry, you’ll stay angry until you actively decide to be calm. 

Likewise, if you identify yourself with a certain illness which your whole life revolves around, your subconscious has no reason to try to heal you; as far as it’s concerned, you are happy being ill. 

It’s this very shift in thinking that inspires life-changing organizations to help their members use present-tense terms for who they are now. For instance, most smoking cessation programs encourage members to change from saying “I am trying to stop smoking” to “I am a non-smoker.”

Notice the difference? The first sentence is still identifying with the problem and unsure of change, in the second, the change has already occurred. You are already a new identity, even in the midst of changing.

Try doing the same with any illness or pain. Shift from “I am trying to heal from…” to “I am healthy now.” Detach yourself completely from the “ill identity” or any question about your healing. You are simply healed.* 

3. Stop talking so much about it.

Have you ever been around someone who seems to only talk about their illness? Or who seems to work their illness even into conversations with strangers? 

This is not a person who has a high chance of healing. 

Just as identifying with an illness does, talking incessantly about it anchors it into your system and empowers it. Basically, you're just tuning your frequency into the illness over and over again. 

To shift to healing mode, choose to not discuss pain or illness in any interaction for the next week. Instead, focus on asking others about their lives and really listen. Take the focus of you and focus on your connection with others; you’ll be amazed how much better you feel. 

4. And stop others from talking about it, too.

If people are so used to identifying you with your illness that it’s all they ask about, learn to change the topic with kindness. Use phrases like, “Well, I’m getting there. Thanks for asking! And how is everything with you/your child/your job/whatever?” or “You know, thanks for asking, but I am trying to focus on the good things going on in my life. For instance, did you see my awesome rose bush/new car/funny pet/whatever?” 

5. If you must talk about it, use different words. 

It’s possible to talk about an illness without owning it. Let’s change the four “owning” sentences at the start of this article to “healing” sentences: 

• Owning Sentence: “MY allergies are killing me this year.”
• Healing Sentence: “Yeah, I’m currently dealing with some allergies, but they’ll go away.”

• Owning Sentence: “MY back pain is awful.”
• Healing Sentence: “Ugh, my back is really hurting. I’m going to take some time to meditate to lessen it.” 

• Owning Sentence: “MY chronic bronchitis is getting so much worse.”
• Healing Sentence: “Wow, I am having a harder time than normal breathing today. Maybe I should take some time to relax and journal about what’s making me feel constricted in my life.”

• Owning Sentence: “MY cancer is in remission. I hope it stays that way.”
• Healing Sentence: “I am so excited to be cancer-free! Now I am going to do everything I can to strengthen my body and stay healthy for good.” 

Get the shift? If you must talk about illness or pain, rewrite your sentences to send healing messages to your mind. 

More than that, focus on bringing awareness to pain or illness and choose to act in ways that show your mind that you are serious about listening to its wisdom. When you do that, you are empowering healing in your mind and body and taking responsibility for your life. 

And this is likely obvious: Never, ever use the word “MY” with an illness again. Never, ever. Got it? 

* I can hear some of you arguing, “But, I have a chronic/terminal/unfixable illness! That’s not temporary! How would this help?” I hear you, and I am not saying that, in your case, maybe the illness has really taken hold and refuses to be reversed, or maybe it’s genetic, or maybe it’s a permanent disorder. Even if that is the case, you can still decide to not be identified by your illness (for a great example of this, check out my article about a blind pole vaulter). More than that, don’t be so sure you can’t heal; I can also tell you that I have worked with many people diagnosed with chronic/terminal/unfixable illnesses and who DID heal. So, remember that might just be possible, too.

To start your healing journey, grab your free Healing and Transformation Meditation now! 

A BLIND Pole Vaulter? Incredible Inspiration for Living Fearlessly

I'm always amazed by the indomitable nature of the human spirit, but today's story is perhaps more shocking than most. 

Perusing the web looking for inspirational stories, I ended up coming across a headline: Blind Pole Vaulter Flies Fearlessly.  Curious as to how anyone could possibly DO such a thing, I clicked to read about how Charlotte Brown, 16 years old and legally blind, is competing at a high level in the sport. More importantly, what I also discovered is a treasure trove for how to live fearlessly AND parent kids who believe in their potential, not their obstacles. 

Here are 3 takeaways from this remarkable girl's story: 

 

1. Don't focus on "disabilities," focus on the whole person. 

I love that Charlotte's parents, Ian and Stori Brown, never told her brothers to be careful with her, or she was weak, or that her eyesight was failing. Because of this, they treated her like any big brothers would - playing with her like normal kids do, even sending her down the stairs in a laundry basket. 

So, when someone told one of her brothers that his sister had a "disability," he had no idea what they were talking about. I love her mom's explanation of why: 

"We never used that description. It was just kind of a nonfactor, and it was not what defined her. She was a bright, sweet little girl, and this was one little detail but not the first adjective that described her." 

Whether or not you or someone you know has a "recognized" disability, we all have something that feels like an obstacle to overcome. Rather than defining yourself as weak in one area or another - and thus reinforcing that weakness - isn't it better to focus on who you are as a WHOLE person? What if Charlotte had defined herself as "disabled" and held to that label? She would certainly not be where she is today. 

By changing your focus from your "disability" to your unique possibilities, you honor the best parts of you, allowing you to go on to achieve your own special greatness. 

 

2. Complaining and feeling sorry for yourself takes away from your ability to succeed. 

It's just a fact: Being around people who complain and whine is exhausting. Actually, being a whiner and complainer yourself depletes your own energy and focuses your mind on problems, not solutions. Flat out, it hinders your ability to succeed and find joy.

A "No Complaining" life seems like a great way to live with purpose and potential. Ian Brown says it best: "We have a whine- and complain-free household. We don't view it as there being any other option. Complaining and whining are a complete waste of time. We all go through obstacles at work, school, home."

What if you enacted this rule in your own life? In your own home? In your own workplace? What could you achieve? More importantly, how much happier and more grateful would you be? 

My suggestion is to do this immediately. Try a "No Complaining" day, and see how it goes. Then add another. And another. Then come back here and tell me how much more awesome you feel - and how much more awesome your life is. 

 

3. Focus on the your unique ability to find solutions to even "insurmountable" obstacles.

In middle school and already with seriously limited eyesight, Charlotte came to her parents and told them that she wanted to try the pole vault. Sure, they were concerned (what sensible parent wouldn't be?), but they quickly allowed it, only asking, "Have you thought about how?"

Charlotte's answer? "Oh, yeah - I'm already counting steps." 

I love that she immediately focused on the solution, not the problem. In doing so, she is now doing something that most fully-sighted people cannot. 

This attitude allows her to keep finding solutions to new problems. For instance, her eyesight has deteriorated even further in the last year, so she cannot see the box where she plants her pole, the bar, or even where she is supposed to land. I'm guessing these obstacles might stop most of us from continuing with this sport. 

Not Charlotte. Her reaction: "As soon as I noticed my vision decreasing at the end of my sophomore year, I thought, 'What's next? What's going to make it a little easier?' It's like when I started thinking about getting a guide dog and using Braille, I wasn't looking at it because I was losing my vision. It was just a matter of, 'This doesn't work, so let's figure out what else we can do.'" 

How many times do we allow (often much more minor) obstacles to stop us in the pursuit of our dreams? I know I've certainly done it. 

Today, take a look at all those things that are "holding you back." Instead of seeing the obstacles, how can you figure out what else you can do to succeed? Allow your mind to connect with ideas and solutions, and be unafraid to try them. 

In fact, here's a challenge for today: Dust off a dream and focus on ONE thing you can do to move in the direction of achieving it. Don't focus on what hasn't worked; focus only on the next step you can take to head in that direction. Then, DO IT. Immediately. 

I'm guessing you will shock yourself at your ability to succeed when you take focused action based on new solutions. 

When you've done this, please come back and tell me about it! 

And, if you know of someone who would benefit from hearing Charlotte's story, please share! 

To read ESPN's excellent article about Charlotte Brown, click here.