Our Story

We began our adoption journey in January 2006 and were officially logged into China’s “Traditional Program” in May 2006. The Traditional Program is also referred to as the Non-Special Needs Program because China also has a Special Needs or Waiting Child Program. In this program, China lists children they consider to have a special need, which are generally of a physical nature. We never really considered the Special Needs Program because we thought, at the time, that as first time parents we just weren’t “qualified” to care for a child with special needs. But we learned otherwise as our journey continued. I began looking at our agency’s waiting child list very early on in our wait and I took the opportunity to educate myself about the kinds of special needs that were out there. I began to learn that folks like us, without super-human powers, were parenting these wonderful children and that, most of the time, these children and their families were leading relatively normal lives. And the more I learned, the more my confidence began to grow and the more my confidence grew, the more seriously we began looking at the waiting child lists. Fast forward to May 2007...were still in the long, sloooooow line of the Traditional Program, and I was eagerly anticipating the publication of our agencies new list of waiting children. Eric and I had known the list was coming for quite some time. We had talked about it and we had “decided” that now was not a good time for us to seriously review the list because of a few complicating factors such as Eric’s assignment in Ireland, our house fire back in Portland...things like that. Despite the fact that we had made this “decision”, I was still very excited about the list, so I was hunched over the computer the moment the list was posted. The list was posted at approximately 9:10am MST so it was probably about 4:11pm Ireland time when I saw Nola’s face. Her beautiful, precious face with the sparkling eyes and the skin that looked like it was lit from within. I quickly read her translated file. “...she is introverted, reasonable, and quiet.” Reasonable? Oh I think so! Nola was on the waiting child list because of her cleft lip and maybe a cleft palate. This is a special need that I had researched and knew that we could address with our resources. So I let myself get excited… Immediately, I had to leave to collect Eric from work. I was tormented as I drove. We had made a “decision” and I wanted to honor that....but her eyes! I didn’t want to make Eric the heavy by not sticking to our “decision”...but her file says she’s reasonable! So Eric gets in the car and I’m still struggling. I keep my mouth shut but I’m a pretty emotional person and keeping something like this inside is just not part of my constitution. So I go with my gut....and I tell him what I’ve done. I don’t go into great detail. I just want him to know that I’ve fallen in love with a little girl and that I’m really torn up inside because of the “decision” that we made, and, and, and....and you know what? He was fine with it. He said, “Great. I want to see her too.” So we got home, squished together on the ratty, old purple couch, put the laptop on our laps....and we met our daughter. I gave no introduction, preferring to let her do all the talking. We stared, flipped through the few pictures, read through the brief file...there’s really not much to go on, you know? The whole meeting took about one minute. My heart was racing but I remained reserved. I already had my moment with her, so this moment was between them. Well I’m still not sure what she said to him, but it must’ve been brilliant. There were no questions, no discussion, no “what about...?”. Amazing. It was as if we both knew that we would forever define our life by that moment...our life before that moment...and our life after. All he said was, “Let’s go get ‘er.” So we did. We learned the next day that there was more than one family that wanted to adopt her, therefore, each family was required to prepare a petition for her. The petition is intended to describe how this child has touched your hearts, how you are equipped to address her special need and why you are the best family for her. That was the only guidance we were provided. It felt like a good process because it’s not a “first come, first served” situation. Rather, the child’s placement was dependent upon an evaluation of which potential parents are best fit to care for the child and their special need. The process is mighty tough on the potential parents because you really have to put your hearts on the line, but, when it’s done right, it’s really the best thing for the child. To say that I took this effort very seriously is a wee bit of an understatement. It was absolutely unbelievable to me that anybody else could feel the way we did about her and yet I knew that, if we goofed up this petition, they could decide to let somebody else adopt her. And that was just not acceptable to me. I felt, with every ounce of my being, that this child was “our child” and it was impossible to remain reserved at this stage. With Eric’s help, I wrote my heart and soul into that petition. I wrote the bulk of it on Mother’s Day and, as I said in our cover letter, I prayed that it was just the first of a lifetime of Mother’s Days with this little girl in our life. We had our petition in a day early because we wanted the review committee to have the opportunity to read every word of it. Every. Word. Because every word was from the depths of our being and the thought of somebody skimming these words was painful. We had laughed, cried and agonized over every word. Every word was for her and every word should be honored as such. We just had to trust the review committee understood that and felt the same. And then we waited. I don’t think we took a breath for days. We were restless the night before we were to learn of our fate. Actually, going out of our minds is probably a more apt description. We decided to play Scrabble to occupy ourselves. Scrabble with a twist. Every word played had to be used in a sentence about her. I found myself making words just because I wanted to use them in a sentence about her. We had a very fitful rest that night. I hesitate to call it rest and it certainly wasn’t sleep. We both dreamt...dream after dream after dream, good news, bad news, wanting, crying, desperate. We both opened our eyes at 7am. We were reluctant to get out of bed because we knew our fate would unfold as soon as we did, and, as desperately as we tried to be optimistic, we were terrified. Paralyzingly so (my heart stops beating at the remembering of how frightened we were). We talked a bit about how each of us was feeling, the dreams we had through the night...then we took a deep breath and resolutely got out of bed. We had to remind ourselves that life would go on. That we would survive bad news just like we had survived everything else that we had been dealt. You have to. You just have to. We sat together, holding each other, in front of the computer. We went to our e-mail and the words immediately popped out....”Very Exciting News for the M Family”...that’s all we needed to read. My screams of joy were primal. My tears, even right now, are from a place that is so deep. So instinctual. The review committee chose us (us?!), out of 25 potential adoptive parents, as the best parents for her. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you....for our daughter. And thank you to all of you that kept us in your thoughts during this time, that lit candles (at the church, in your hearts, even the designer, scented ones), that gave us words of encouragement, that prayed for us, hoped for us, that crossed your fingers (and toes), beat drums, chanted, and sent us good vibes and mojo. Thank you to the people that believed in us....especially that small group of people that sat around a table and made the decision that Eric and I were “the best” parents for her. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

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