How We Heard the News About Our Second Daughter, Part Two

Continued from Part One

This is a long one, friends.  I feel it is necessary, though.  I want to remember these feelings and events, and maybe they might help someone else in the future.  I also want my daughter to know how she came to be in our family- the good and the uncomfortable.  The bad and the joyful.  Because, altogether, it makes a beautiful picture. 

~ ~ ~

In fact, I was about 99% sure she’d say “no.”  I wasn’t as concerned about our social worker (whom I like very much) saying “no” to the special need, as we would first have everything checked out by the International Adoption Clinic in Birmingham.  I was pretty sure she’d say “no” because Flora Lin was so close in age with Charlotte.  We’d discussed in our very first meeting our feelings about twinning (if you’ll remember, we were VERY much against it).  She praised us for our good thinking at that time and wholeheartedly agreed.

However, we weren’t going to be able to move forward by doing nothing.  We needed to know if this was our daughter (I knew, you know, but the practical, barbeque- sandwich-eating husband needed documentation and other logical confirmation sources. ; )).  So, we called.  E mailed.  Called.  And CALLED AND E MAILED AND CALLED.  We couldn’t reach her and neither could our agency.  The day passed and we had to sit and wait through the weekend.

It was NOT an easy weekend.

I don’t remember all of the details, but I know it was hard.  It was hard because there were a lot of unknowns with Charlotte.  It was hard because we couldn’t see her file.  We couldn’t see her face (and at the time we felt it was best).  We couldn’t know anything about her except her birth date and special needs.  We felt as if we might not be allowed to make this decision about whether or not she was our child for ourselves. While I was once very confident that this was my child, now waves of doubt swept over me.  Fears didn’t creep in, they charged in.  I couldn’t think straight.  I couldn’t pray.  I felt so much.  I couldn’t talk to hardly anyone about it because we didn’t want to excite friends and family only to hurt them with disappointment.  Sam and I didn’t talk much.

When my heart is too full to talk, too overwhelmed to pray and too confused to think, I sing.  And I pull weeds.  I pulled A LOT of weeds that weekend.  A LOT of weeds.

I also talked to another adoptive mom.  I told her what was going on and how we were feeling and how we feared the social worker would not release the file to let us decide for ourselves.  I told her that I was going to fight and let my inner Momma Bear out!  She kindly, but firmly told me to hold on a minute and think.  Think about letting God do this if it is meant to be.

 Monday morning, Momma Bear came out of hibernation.  : )  I called the home-study agency on a stormy, tornado- warning – filled morning and reached the intern at the agency (no one else was there, due to the weather).  I’ll spare you the details, but I think I ended up sounding more like Chicken Little than Momma Bear.  Eventually, I reached our social worker. And I thought about the whole Momma Bear thing… and decided to let her sleep.   I calmly told her about our girl, expecting resistance, and was met with a little more than that.  She brought up several great points to consider, and I brought up a calm answer for each one.  She wasn’t satisfied, but did agree to release the file ONLY to the cardiologist and IA Clinic Doctor for our medical reviews.  She wasn’t confident that we could handle her special need or that she would have a normal life.  And the twinning?  Well, I don’t have to tell you how she felt about that.*  She told us to give her a call after the appointments took place.  She said she’d be interested how we felt after speaking with the cardiologist.

I’ll take what I can get, y’all. 

I talked to another adoptive mom later that night, explaining my whole situation to her.  She was a mom with a child that had a similar condition and had also twinned (and has adopted many more times since then!).  She was very optimistic about my fears being “do-able” in the future, but wasn’t optimistic about the file being released to us.  She promised to pray for our situation.  I was hopeful and unhopeful at the same time.

Tuesday was a day that we hoped would bring some answers.  Around lunchtime, the doctor from the IA Clinic called on a three way call to discuss Charlotte’s file with both of us.  Not knowing we hadn’t ever read it, she began to review, beginning with her finding place and the details surrounding it.  My heart broke that moment in a way it hadn’t before.  I couldn’t hold back the tears, and I could tell that on the other end of the phone that Sam couldn’t either.   When people say that adoption is hard, yes, they mean gathering paperwork.  Yes, they mean taking class after class.  Yes, they mean attachment.  Yes, they mean special needs.  But what has been the hardest for me is how I have come to have these precious children as my daughters… what they have lost.  What their birth family has lost. 

I can’t discuss the details of that loss ( though I want to), as her beginning is not my story, but hers.  I am only the keeper of it until she can tell it herself in her own way.

The doctor went on to discuss growth and development and surgery and scars and inconsistencies and unknowns.  We didn’t get many of the answers we were hoping for.  My heart was still not at peace.  But, you have to keep moving forward.

Yes, I pulled more weeds that night. : )

The following day, Wednesday, we met with the pediatric cardiologist.  The people in that office were some of the kindest people I had met!  He carefully explained Charlotte’s heart, what had happened, what could happen and what he future looked like.  She’d never be an Olympic track runner, he told me.  She’d have surgery again one day. 

“Can she ride horses?!” 

He said that horses would be perfect!  : )  He also told us that her picture was really cute.

Sam and I walked back to his truck together, both a little lighter.  We held hands and looked at each other.  Could we each be enough of a parent to parent her with love, no matter what?

  We still didn’t get answers on the unknowns, but on that day, that beautiful day, we decided to lay down our doubts.  The sun was so bright and the sky absolutely clear…  it was such a pretty day.  And I knew again.  I knew she was mine.

That evening, Sam and I came up with a list of arguments that we thought our social worker might make.  We also made a list of what we might say to counter that.  We were prepared for the battle, but I was still so afraid.  He decided to make the call Thursday, as I would be helping my mother pick out tile and fixtures for her new kitchen during the day (thus unavailable).  I think he was also secretly afraid of Momma Bear.

Wednesday night, I couldn’t find peace.  I was so afraid of not being given the chance to parent this child.  I was exhausted and sick.  I knew I needed sleep, so I asked God to wake me so I could pray in the morning.  I couldn’t find the words just then.  I didn’t have the strength.  At 3:30 AM I woke and I knew he was calling.

“My heart has heard you say, “Come and talk with me.”  And my heart responds, “LORD, I am coming.”  ~ Psalm 27:8 NLT

I got up and left the room quietly and knelt to pour my heart out to the only one who knew the plan, my fears, my heart and the beautiful outcome.  I felt a little peace as I crept back in bed and slept until morning.

Thursday, I happily left work early to join my mom for an afternoon of fun.  We spent our time going back and forth about which cabinets go with which handles go with which tiles go with which countertop.  It was nice to be out and doing something different and happy, but you know where my mind was.  In the middle of debating tile and drawer pulls, my phone rang.  It was Sam.  He was NOT eating a barbeque sandwich.

“She released the file to us.”

He hadn’t read bullet points.  Hadn’t taken part in a great debate.  Hadn’t pleaded or begged. I know that I was faint.  I couldn’t stand and I asked for some water.  I tried to be interested in tile and drawer pulls, but I wanted to shout and cry and thank God!!!    

I kept it together.  After my mom and I picked out what needed picking, we ran to a store or two and I bought two sweet dresses at each. : )  One for my Lin-Lin and the other for my Lottie Pie.  My mom didn’t know, but it was a beautiful day. 

Later, I joined Sam at his office to FINALLY see my girl for the first time and read her file.  And if you can believe it, that barbeque –eating, excel spreadsheet-making husband had me read through the entire file before looking at her picture!  The nerve! ; )

But she was so worth the wait.  So worth all of it.

And there she was.  A darling, precious girl.



The first photo we saw of our precious daughter!

And the rest is history, as you know. 

But I might add that every April 4^th, we, as a family, will pull over on the side of the road and eat barbeque sandwiches, while telling the stories over and over and laughing at the memories past.   

Charlotte, you’ve taught me about peace and about being steady and steadfast, just like the meaning of your Chinese name, Xiao Ping.   While Flora Lin broke through my sorrow to give me joy, you completed my joy.  Girls, you are both so precious to me, and two of the most sought-after blessings.  I’d do it all over again.  Many times.  I love you.





Beautiful!

* I would like to add that though this was frustrating, looking back, I agree with what she did and what she said.  She had to act in the best interest of both children and do what was best for the success of our family as a whole.  In her position, with the knowledge she had at that time, I would have made the same decision.