My Overthinking

Philly Area mom, Life forever changed by adoption

Beautiful things

It wasn’t what I expected. I expected more color, more toys, more sunshine. I don’t know. Afterall, it wasn’t a state orphanage. Maybe I expected it to look more like some Chinese version of the daycare center where I worked for a summer in college. It didn’t.

The doorman muttered all sorts of things to us that even our translator had trouble understanding. But, he waved us through and smiled when he saw the director walk out to us. He asked us if we slept well. We assured him we did, and he said he was surprised because he thought we might be too excited to sleep.

The front hall was clean. dark and cool. damp. Some signs seemingly about rules for safety with interesting clipart were posted making that front hall look not unlike that of an office building, one no one really used. Two children’s areas were on that hall, each having two rooms, one for beds and one for play. We were invited right into the first area, like a friend might invite us into her living room. Come in. See what we’ve done with the place. When you admire it, I’ll smile and tell you to stop, but it will make me feel really good. In our aprons that looked like children’s hospital gowns and paper shoe covers, we joined the staff in the playroom.

There was nothing spectacular about the space. It wasn’t bad. I’ve said spaces with much less. But, it wasn’t what I thought it would be. With chalky paint, uneven and worn out floors, worn out lots of things, it really wasn’t all that beautiful. But, we stayed. Of course we did. This is where we had been asked to go. This is who wanted “expert” training on early childhood education and class management, about caring for children assigned the umbrella diagnosis of cerebral palsy, and about discipline and correction. We didn’t just stay; we watched.

It was nearly evening but the room got a little brighter as we watched. Brighter still was that place after we spent time in both rooms. The rooms looked different when we left that first day. In fact, even the doorman may have looked a little different.

It wasn’t like that daycare center with a play kitchen, dress up corner, and reading nook. It wasn’t like the state orphanages where I’ve served either. It was different. And, there were beautiful things there that weren’t at all worn out. Beautiful things that had nothing to do with donations from foreigners or painted murals on the wall. It just took a little time to notice them.

Two full days of trainings would start the next morning, trainings that would give us the opportunity to teach a few things and tell them how we love what they’ve done with the place.

I might have been too excited to sleep that night.

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A mystery I’m glad to accept

It was nearly a year ago when I first met her. She was one of the smallest babies there. While she wasn’t demanding, she captivated our attention. She had big round cheeks and kicked her feet when we spoke to her. But, we knew something was wrong. She was yellow. Everything about her was yellow. And, when we held her, the ayis pointed it out. They’d point to their own cheeks and then shake their heads, point to their own eyes and frown.

Her liver was broken. That’s what they told me. While I don’t know anything about that, I knew it was serious. She needs a new one to live, they told me, and she won’t get one. The ayis in her room seemed to accept it. I guess they learn to accept a lot of things. They have to. They can only do the job they are told to do. They care for babies—until they are placed in a foster home, until they are adopted, until they get too big and move to another room and into a coworker’s care, or until they die. That’s what they do everyday. They don’t make decisions or set policy or change systems. For this baby with chubby cheeks and fiesty kicks, they assumed they’d feed her and change her and hold her until one day, her body would all be broken and she would die.

I talked to the ones who do make decisions. Can something be done? Can she be transferred somewhere else? What if money could be provided for the surgery she needs? No. No. No. They weren’t mean about it. I could hear the regret through the language foreign to me and the way they shook their heads and sighed. They wished they could do more, but it was impossible. Even if there was a place that would take her, even if there was money to pay for it, there was no liver to give her. No one in China would donate their child’s liver to save an orphan baby.

When we left that place, I rubbed her back and touched her head. And, I accepted it too. The world is a broken place, and she’s a living example of the brokenness.

It was months later when I received a photo via WeChat. Despite the tubes and tape, I knew it was her. It made no sense, but I knew it was her.

Few words were shared. Only that she had traveled all the way to Shanghai, that she had received a new liver, and that she was in intensive care but would recover. How the decision was made, how it was arranged, how it was paid for, how her life was spared, I have no idea. Somehow, the impossible was made possible.

About a month later, another picture arrived. This time words came with it: Vitals are normal. Yesterday afternoon, was transferred to the general ward.

Two weeks later, a new picture arrived, this time with the words: She was discharged. It was taken on the same day. 

She hasn’t returned to the orphanage yet. She’s in a home for babies recovering from surgeries. There she’s monitored for any signs of rejection, and she goes to the hospital once a week for more detailed examination. She’s well cared for and getting what she needs.

When we go to China, we fly into Beijing. But, this time, we took a little detour.

We will never know how it happened, but we can testify that it did happen. Somehow the decision makers moved from acceptance to discontentment and to action to share her need for a new life. Somewhere a child died and that child’s parents decided to give life to a child who had no future, no hope. Somehow she traveled 900 miles to receive that new life through a surgery that someone  unknown paid for.

I am one who asks a lot of questions and works hard to get answers. I want to know all the hows and whys to things. But, not today. Even if I could ask all the questions I have, I do not think there are answers that could fully explain her story. How it all happened, I don’t know. One thing I do know, she was dying, and now she will live. That’s a mystery I’m glad to accept.

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“Heads up. Our adoption program isn’t going anywhere, but it’s going to look different.”

There were rumors that changes were coming. I kept up with them, but they were only rumors. Earlier this month, when new rules were issued for people wanting to adopt from China, those rumors about China changing the make-up of the whole adoption program seemed a bit more real.

Yesterday, the announcement a whole bunch of people like me were anticipating was sent out.

Announcement
July 18, 2017

Relevant government departments and adoption agencies in receiving countries,
Following the enactment of the Law of the People’s Republic of China on the Administration of Activities of Overseas Non-Governmental Organizations within the Territory of China (hereinafter referred to as Administration Law) since January 1, we would like to notify as follows on relevant issues about the programs carried out by adoption agencies such as the One-to-One Assistance Program, Journey of Hope Program, and Summer/Winter Hosting Program based on the regulations of the Administrative law and conclusions of competent authorities:

I. All activities concerning the One-to-One program, Journey of Hope Program, and Summer/Winter Hosting Program will be terminated. For children who have been assessed by adoption agencies through the One-to-One program before the enactment of the Administrative Law and whose reports have not been submitted to CCCWA, if their reports are submitted through the provincial department of civil affairs to CCCWA before December 31, 2017 (subjected to the approval date of the provincial department), CCCWA will post these files to the specific list of the original adoption agency. Agencies are requested to look for children within required deadline, otherwise the files will be withdrawn by CCCWA when the deadline is closing.

II. Foreign adoption agencies should abide by the business scope specified in the registration when working in China. No activities with inter-country adoption as the purpose are allowed when agencies work in welfare and charity related activities.

III. Adoption agencies should look for adoptive families according to the requirements outlined in the Review Points for Decision on the Eligibility of Foreigners Adopting from China and avoid hasty placements without discretion within the deadline.

China Center for Children’s Welfare and Adoption Center

Adoption agency partnerships terminated. Advocacy trips into orphanages under the umbrella of adoption agencies terminated. Hosting programs that bring harder-to-place waiting children to America for the purpose of advocacy that have had nearly 100% success rates in placing those children terminated.

I knew it was coming. That didn’t make it not sting at first read…and keep stinging during second and third reads. Terminated is just harsh, like all of us invested in adoption and orphan care in China found ourselves sitting in a leatherette chair on the vulnerable side of an executive desk and were all just fired. No warm I’m sorry. We need to downsize. Just Pack up your desk. You’re terminated.

Press pause. Stop.

There are people behind this announcement. And, those people, those governing authorities who surely sat around a board table and wrote these words are likely the same ones who labored through writing the new rules for people who want to adopt from China, literally pages of rules about finances and physical and emotional health and family size and length of time between adoptions and ages between children. Those rules aren’t arbitrary; whether or not we agree each one of them, they’re the rules they corporately believe set children up best long term.

The way things have looked for years is going to be different. The 1:1 partnership program with adoption agencies partnering with specific orphanages will stop as of December 31st as will hosting programs and Journey of Hope trips which bring teams of volunteers to China for the specific purpose of advocacy. There is no other information about what the program will look like after December 31st. But, I have no reason to believe that the program won’t be good. It very well could be better.

That word in Mandarin translated to terminated is 停止, tíngzhǐ. It just means stop which somehow makes it easier to read. And, just a few lines later there are other words that speak a whole lot of hope: when agencies work in welfare and charity related activities. When agencies work in social welfare (aka orphanages) and in philanthropic activities, they can’t be for the purpose of adoption. When agencies work in social welfare (aka orphanages) and in philanthropic activities, they have to be genuine acts of charity for charity’s sake. Yes, yes, good.

This announcement is no longer stinging when I read it the fourth and fifth time.

I don’t know what international adoption from China will look like in 2018 except for knowing that it will remain. I haven’t been fired. None of us have been fired. We’ve just been told the business model is changing in a big way. I may look a little dumbfounded, but I’m thanking the boss for letting me know in advance and then I’m respectfully leaving the office, looking around at my coworkers tonight and saying “well, okay then.” We have work to do; let’s figure out how to make sure we can keep on doing it.

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Drew gē gē. Drew dì dì. Drew lǎo shī.

We heard him talk more and more about the China trip as it got closer. Most of the talk carried excitement as he anticipated missing 2 weeks of school to climb the Great Wall and play with Caleb and Grace 2 years after they lived in our home. But, in between all the words, we knew there was some anxiety, seemingly focused on feeling bored on a very long plane ride, mystery foods, and teaching.

Ashlyn served as his consultant, advising him about everything from what dishes he should order for himself in the school cafeteria to how to pace himself on the Great Wall. At one point, I heard him asking her about what we’d do first when we arrived to the Beijing airport. She answered: “All you need to do is follow Daddy. He knows everything.”

We knew he’d love it. I’d say I was more certain of it when the first thing he did upon arrival (after nearly 24 hours of travel and before we boarded a bus for 4 more hours) was order himself a burger, coke, and fries from McDonalds in Chinese. This kid. Even still, I anticipated that he wouldn’t do it all. The schedule for our 18 member team wasn’t easy. We met early in the morning, taught for hours, spent time with students walking around campus or a nearby park, hosted Conversation Corners where we were surrounded by students anxious to practice their oral English skills, held events every night that required a good bit of energy to lead large groups in singing “My Heart Goes On,” “Shake it Off,” and the like, and then met as a team again.

Maybe he’d skip out of the morning meetings or Conversation Corners–surely, he’d tire of answering 100x what his favorite Chinese foods are. And, teaching, yeah, I wouldn’t force it. Four hours straight on our feet, enunciating clearly, being 100% on…it’s hard. And, it was. But, he didn’t want out of one thing. In fact, he was full in.

To Grace and Caleb, he was Drew gē gē, jumping right back into that big brother role as if they hadn’t spent 2 years apart.

To our Chinese friends and to our team, he was Drew dì dì, the cute little brother who could pal right around with them.

And, in the classroom, he was Drew lǎo shī, unafraid of being up front, comfortable following the curriculum, not only willing but eager. He was so natural that when someone asked a few of our students which foreign teachers were in their class that day, they answered, “Drew and his family.”

By Day 3, he was asking when he could come back again and why English Week was not English Month. He also informed us that he figured out what he wants to do when he grows up.

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