The Lucky Ones

Our Stories of Adopting Children from China

By Ann Rauhala, Jen Hale

ECW PRESS

Copyright © 2008 Ann Rauhala
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-55022-823-6

Contents

Preface,
Foreword Jan Wong,
As Traditional as a Child Tess Kalinowski,
Tumbling Down Patricia Hluchy,
Double Happiness Evan Solomon,
At Lingyin Si Susan Olding,
This Child of Mine Denise Davy,
Two Boys, Two Girls Sonja Smits,
About Margaret Havard Gould,
This Baby's Going to Fly Ann Rauhala,
Carry Me Jasmine Akbarali,
An Arranged Family Julie Chan,
Hua Jun Gets Daddy Douglas Hood,
Words Fail Margaret Lawson,
At Home in a Small Town Heidi Hatch,
Bullets on the Bund: An Excerpt Steve Whan,
Why Not an Egg? Shelley Page,
Out of the Mouths of Babies Lilian Nattel,
"Face Your Fortune Bravely" Sarah Giddens,
Nice and Warm Cindy Boates,
A Month in Beijing Glen McGregor,
Just Known as Me Jasmine Bent,
A Long Way from Hunan Lia Calderone,
Our Silk Road Douglas Hood,
Appendix,
Contributors,
Acknowledgments,

CHAPTER 1

As Traditional as a ChildTess Kalinowski

OLIVIA IS WALKING INTO the dining room. She hangs on tightly to my dad's fingers. I know from experience his back must feel like it's breaking as he repeatedly indulges her desire to move.

My baby is grinning from ear to ear, her little head bobbing up and down, spontaneous giggles issuing from the pure pleasure of her own cleverness. Less than two months ago when I picked her up in China, she couldn't sit up for more than a few seconds without flopping onto her face.

Now on a perfectly ordinary Sunday for no reason other than that she is beautiful and healthy, intense joy is nudging tears to my eyes.

"I did that. I went and got us that," I say to my mother. Her arms are already outstretched to the grinning child stepping through the doorway.

Not being married seldom bothered me. Not having children was, for a long time, tearing me apart. To say my biological clock was ticking wouldn't be correct. I felt no physical imperative to give birth and my notions of children don't include the creation of a replica of myself or a partner.

I don't know whether other people genuinely have those feelings. I do know that the sound of time marching forward started to resonate when I was about thirty-three. By thirty-five, it was deafening.

It took me a long time to get past the embarrassment of wanting anything as traditional as a child.

I had a career that had exceeded my expectations. I had a house; smart, funny friends; and a devoted family. I understood how enviable my life was and I think that's why it became increasingly important to share it—not just the stuff, but the people and the laughter that just got better as I aged.

I'd spent a lifetime making alternative choices. Becoming a mother was practically the only thing I'd always been absolutely sure I wanted.

I had always enjoyed a wonderful relationship with my own mother. I wanted to continue that journey with another generation.

It takes me a moment to comprehend it's my daughter's Chinese name being called in the Hefei Holiday Inn meeting room. It's 9 a.m. Monday. My sister and I are among ten adoptive Canadian families who flew from Vancouver to Beijing on Saturday and then flew two hours southeast to Hefei on Sunday.

Finally we are gathered in the room where babies from the nearby city of Chuzou are already waiting with their caregivers.

The other members of the group I've been assigned by the Ottawa-based Children's Bridge agency, have, by process of elimination, figured out that the floppy baby with the Elvis sideburns is mine. It is February 28. The pictures I received at Christmas were taken in October. I have trouble seeing the resemblance. Nevertheless, I'm moved to tears at the sight of my daughter.

A young woman brings Fu Yuan Qin, who I'll call Olivia, toward me. I squeak a first hello but don't immediately take her in my arms. I've gone to the adoption seminars and know enough to introduce my voice and touch slowly.

Once Olivia is in my arms the nanny retreats across the room. Later I will persuade her to hold Olivia for a photograph.

Olivia has a cold. Her cheeks are flaming from teething and the odor of urine-soaked wool is rising from her damp little body. The humid meeting room is easily twenty-three degrees Celsius. In the Chinese custom, Olivia is wearing several layers of clothing.

My sister Katherine holds the miserable infant for three hours while I complete the adoption paperwork. As instructed by our guide and interpreter, Ding, I repeatedly write my promise to always care for the child and never abandon her.

Ding will later translate so the adoptive parents can ask the orphanage director about our babies' lives to that point. He stresses we are not to ask any questions about the girls' birth parents or where the child was abandoned.

I can see from across the room that Olivia is crying and, despite disapproving looks from the Chinese, Katherine has stripped the baby down to a fresh diaper and top. Without the pants, we can see Olivia won't straighten one leg. It is tucked tightly next to her little body. I'm worried enough to mention this to another adoptive parent, a pediatric nurse. He promises to stop by later and have a look.

Before we are released from the room, the adoptive parents are interviewed by a notary. Ding translates her questions.

Am I sure I want to take this baby girl back to Canada?

I know my baby looks miserable and ill. Of the ten babies being adopted that day, mine is looking among the least healthy. In the split-second before I answer, it occurs to me the notary is offering to have a different baby brought for me.

I smile and insist, "Oh yes, this is the baby girl I want to take home." Adopting a child is invasive and exhausting. There's a rigid bureaucratic process but the experience is unique to each family.

It took me eighteen months of research, rigorous paperwork, and rushing for appointments before I finally found myself flying to China.

Anyone with the right biology can make a child, but adoption in Ontario requires a Ministry of Community and Social Services home-study approval. To get it, you undergo intense scrutiny. You pay a social worker to interview you, to review your home, your job, your finances, and your relationships. You must get friends, family, and colleagues to write reference letters.

There are virtually no healthy infants available for public adoption in Ontario. Today, fewer women put their babies up for adoption than before and those who do frequently opt for private adoption so they can select the baby's parents. Public adoptions are limited mostly to special needs and older children but it's a hard truth that most people want healthy infants.

Eastern Europe and China are the most established avenues for Canadians seeking overseas adoptions.

Because China's single-child policy allows only one child per family, that country has thousands of unwanted babies, almost all girls. Kept in state-run orphanages, the girls who aren't adopted will be schooled and supported until they are eighteen. The orphanages also house some boys and special-needs children.

Although I didn't visit Olivia's orphanage in Chuzhou, our group was permitted to tour a facility in Hefei where some of the other children had been kept. Those babies were healthier and better developed than...