And now it's B's turn

One of the challenges of adopting a child with special needs is the uncomfortable position of "choosing" the child you are adopting. With a "normal" adoption, you get to specify what you are and are not willing to accept in a child, you file your paperwork with the government and then wait to be matched to a child. Pursuing the adoption of a child who is already waiting (because his or her file doesn't match up with the criteria that someone looking for a "normal" child is willing to accept), means that instead of being matched to a child, you can request to have a child matched to you.

The matter of choosing that child, which automatically means that you are *not* choosing all of the other children also waiting for a family, has been difficult for me emotionally both times that we've been through it. One child gets a family. All of the others don't. And that's just the way it is.

After we finally located the official information on T, Matt and I read through it, and I was processing by rather mindlessly browsing through photos of other waiting children, in particular, children who were at risk of "aging out." Because, you see, children are able to be adopted. Adults are not. So, once a child becomes an adult they are no longer adoptable. Each country has its own limitations surrounding this, but in many countries that I'm aware of, age 16 is the cut off - if you don't have a family by the time you're 16 years old, you get taken off the list.

As I was skimming over photos of these children, one girl caught my eye, largely because of a comment she made to an adoptive family coming for another child at the group home where she lives. She told them that she wanted a family, but didn't think anyone would want her because she was too old and because she was in a wheelchair. The simplicity of that statement, and the untruth that it holds (that being older or being in a wheelchair makes you less worthy or less desirable) really stood out to me. I went to bed that night talking with Matt about the challenge of the situation - T really needs a family - she would benefit so much from being taken out of institutional life, and she deserves as much as anyone the chance to be loved...and to love - but she is incapable of having any concept of what she is missing. But then there are children like B who are very aware of what they do not, and potentially never will have.

On top of what she is missing out on - a family - is the reality of what she has to look forward to if she reaches her 16th birthday without a family: two more years of life in her group home, and then on her 18th birthday, transfer to an adult mental institution. And why an adult mental institution for a young woman whose disability is a physical one? Most simply, because that is the best option they have to offer in her country.

How do you choose?

Matt made a few pretty general comments, and then rolled over and went to sleep.

The next morning I brought B's photo up again because the concept of how do we choose was still on my mind, and when he saw it, something switched in Matt. As he told me that night, "It's one thing to know something generally, but once you have a specific face - a real person - to go with the generic scenario, then you have to make a decision. A decision to either do something or to do nothing. But either way, now that it's real, we've got to decide what to do with what we know." He said we should at least inquire about what country B lived in. She was pretty obviously Eastern European (and not African or Chinese), but there are a number of countries that would be possible for that. We decided that the "something" we would do would be simply to ask if we could find out what country she was from.

The answer came back via email the next afternoon. She's in Bulgaria - T's country!

Oh boy. That means we have to move to the next level. Two different international adoptions in two different countries would basically be nuts even if it wasn't in the same year that you're adding a newborn to your family. (Okay, yes, I'm sure many of you think even two in the same country, or for that matter, even one adoption this year is nuts. And you'd be in good company - sometimes we think that way, too! ;) ) But, to us, two different countries would rule out B. And having her in the same country as T means that the logistical part of the adoption process (and the financial as well), would be only slightly more complicated than just a single adoption.

The decision to add B to our adoption didn't require anywhere near the time we took to make the decision about T. Having already decided to pursue T, adding B was just simply the right thing to do.

There are many things about the United States that one can (rightfully) gripe about, but one thing that I am immensely proud of is the extent to which measures are taken to welcome people with disabilities into the regular every day life of our society. I write this understanding that in many ways these people are still marginalized, but in so many ways, the underlying fabric of our communities is arranged in such a way that it is possible for these people to live their lives. One basic reason we can do this and Bulgaria can not is money - we have the money to invest in the physical infrastructure that makes a wheelchair not a limiting factor. Every street corner has a ramp, all public buildings have handicap accessible entrances - doors with openers, hallways that are wide enough, elevators (big enough for a wheelchair) - you name it. There are public transportation options for people with disabilities, and a plethora of public services to give people with various disabilities the extra help they need to just go on with their lives.

A country like Bulgaria, with a mere 27 years since the fall of socialism, has simply not had the time or financial resources to create the infrastructure that we in the United States take for granted. Yes, I understand that there are also cultural prejudices that make living with a disability more challenging in Bulgaria than it is in the United States, but I must say that this is the image ingrained in my mind's eye when I think about this question:

 I can not easily describe to you how beautiful this man is to me. He captures what I choose to remember about the Bulgarian people. There we were - me, three months pregnant, Dondi, and little Owen trying to navigate the capital city with Krassimir in his stroller. As we approached yet another flight of stairs and were trying to figure out the best way to get K safely down, this complete stranger, who, by the way, did not speak English, offered to help us by carrying Krassi down the stairs. There is so much about the strength and resilience and the heart of the Bulgarian people captured here. We had a problem. There was no "thing" (elevator, safe ramp, etc) to help us, but he was there, and he was able, and he took our problem on himself and did something about it, and then went quickly on his way.

Our adoption lawyer in Bulgaria has been confined to a wheelchair after an automobile accident 16 years ago. Why is she not in a mental institution? Quite simply because she is not an orphan - she has a network of people around her to fill the gap that the infrastructure of her country can not fill. Her brother has arranged his life, his work, to be available to get her where she needs to go, to carry her when she needs to be carried - to do what is necessary to let her continue to live as part of her culture. Yes, there are still many places she can not go, the life she has is not easy, but with her network of people, she is able to live it.

There are some ramps, but they would be difficult (read, impossible!) to navigate independently in a wheelchair! (This photo was taken on our trip to pick up Krassimir.)

If this dear girl had a family, she would be able to live in her country as well. There would be challenges along the way, but what I know of Bulgarians is that they don't shy away from challenges! The history of Bulgaria is an inspirational one of a people who have been continually beaten down, but who never give up and keep holding steady until they come out again on top.

But she doesn't have a family, and with only months to go before she is too old to be adopted, she may never have a family.

It is hard to explain the excitement that we have about offering this beautiful young lady the chance to live. Not only will we get to have her as a part of our family, but we will also be able to offer her the chance to grow beyond that to whatever degree she desires.

Understanding that the two page documents one receives upon inquiring about a child are incomplete at best, and ought to be taken very loosely, what we know of B is that she is friendly and capable, shy, but still confident. She appears to be quite adept at caring for herself, and has a good attitude toward her academic work. She is said to get along well with younger children, and can take a leadership role without being domineering. She is quick to smile, and sometimes moody. (We had to laugh at that - sounds like a normal 15 year old girl, right?!)

Right now she has no idea that she has a family coming for her. She is still stuck believing the lie that because she is older and in a wheelchair that she is unwanted. I would love to watch her response on the day that she is told that there is a family who wants to meet her.