By Kimberli Wilson

For me and my husband, Ben, it wasn’t a question of whether we would adopt, but when.

I had worked at WACAP for seven years and at another agency for three. The adoptive families I know are incredible people, and we fell in love with the idea of adopting. We chose to take a child from India, because we decided that was a culture we could embrace and educate our children about.

When we heard about a 2-year-old girl named Deepika who needed a home, it didn’t take us long to make up our minds. She had a ventricular septal defect—a hole in the heart—and abnormal heart valves. But once our doctor reassured us that surgery could repair Deepika’s heart, we could hardly wait to bring her home.

Meanwhile we joined support groups with other parents who’ve adopted from India. We immersed ourselves in Indian culture—Indian food, Indian films, Indian holidays—and got to know people in Seattle’s Indian community. (We enjoy it so much that we’ll maintain those cultural and social ties for ourselves, even if Deepika loses interest when she’s a teenager.)

I had been through many adoptions as a WACAP staff member. I’d even traveled to India to help parents bring their children home. But now that I was on the other end of the process, my perspective was totally different. For the first time I actually felt the anticipation, the anxiety, the excitement—and sometimes, the exasperation. It seemed the adoption would take forever.

I wasn’t treated differently from any other parent—but I did know the right questions to ask, and you can bet I asked them! I still work with adoptive parents once in a while, and when I do, I tell them not to be shy about getting what they need from WACAP. Now that I’ve adopted, I think I’m a lot more empathetic toward adoptive families. I truly understand what they’re going through.

Our first impression of Deepika? Very tiny, very quiet, and very delayed. I’d been told she couldn’t walk or feed herself—probably because of malnutrition before she came to the orphanage—but still, I was taken aback at how small she was. We also realized she was pretty darn brave, because she didn’t cry, even when she was left alone with us. Even so, she was shellshocked and didn’t really respond to us for those first few days.

But once we were home and she realized we wouldn’t leave her, she adjusted beautifully. Her personality quickly came out, and in a couple of weeks she was a different kid—smiling, laughing and playing. To help correct the developmental issues, our pediatrician referred us to a state-run program that includes every conceivable type of therapy—speech therapy, physical therapy, play therapy. She loved it, and made remarkable progress. I think we’ve had more trouble getting used to parenthood than our daughter had getting used to us!

Deepika is now 4 years old. She’s even-tempered, sensitive, friendly and social. She used to be shy and reserved, but now that she has a little sister (we adopted Savita a couple of years later), she’s really stepped up to the plate. I never get tired of watching her play with her Dorothy doll (from The Wizard of Oz) and repeating, "There’s no place like home."

I hope she knows how true that is.

 

By Brenda Geyer

Kolkata, India, June 1984: A young woman delivers a baby prematurely and leaves the hospital without giving her name. Weighing three pounds, the baby is transferred to International Mission of Hope. He's treated for a high fever, severe diarrhea and a seizure. He is severely jaundiced, so he is placed by the window to be in the sunlight. Slowly he gets stronger. Eventually he can eat and begins to gain weight. He smiles at his nurses. But he seems to have some tightness in his muscles. Utpal is his name—it means "growing in strength and wisdom."

By five months of age it is clear that Utpal will live. He is social and happy, a real favorite in the nursery. He has cerebral palsy and starts therapy. He is now ready to be adopted.

Seattle, Washington, 1983: I decide not to wait any longer to start a family. I make some calls and receive some papers. I look at the cost and put it away for a year.

I turn 35 and look at adoption again. As a single parent, only India is open to me. But I can adopt only a child with special needs. I don't want to wait any longer. WACAP sends me some pictures of Utpal. I think cerebral palsy is something I can manage. I sign the papers.

February 1985: A friend and I travel to Kolkata to pick up my baby, whose new name will be Daniel Utpal. We come home with four babies—WACAP has asked us to escort the other three to their new families. From Kolkata to Bangkok to Seattle, we fly for 22 hours, and every two hours we feed four babies—what a trip! We are met by grandparents, aunts, uncles and lots of cousins. At eight months old, Danny is finally home.

Danny always seemed happy in those early days, but I was worried. There were doctor visits, an MRI, therapy, early intervention services—even plastic braces to support his feet and ankles. I returned to work, but a new worry began: Danny didn't respond to sounds. It took five months to confirm that he was profoundly deaf. Hearing aids, sign language classes and a home teacher followed. I learned signs and used them with Danny, but for months he wouldn't sign back. One night, however, I was eating a chocolate bar when Danny signed "candy." I gave him some candy and he signed it again. I gave him more and cheered. He kept signing—I kept giving. He finally threw up from all the candy!

Danny didn't sit up until 14 months, crawl until 18 months or walk until 2½ years. He started school full time at age 3 in a program for the hearing impaired. I kept two steps ahead of him with the signs and he learned more and more. He was always happy, but very active. His idea of play was to break his toys or tear up paper. At age 5 he was diagnosed with attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder. We added a baby brother to the family, and for five years I was so busy with the boys I wondered when I could ever read a book again.

When Danny was 8 he wanted to take the training wheels off his bike. So I spent the entire summer, several nights a week, holding the bike stable behind him while he pedaled. The day I let go and he continued without falling, I cheered until I cried. When his 5-year-old brother got a bike, I was ready for a repeat performance, but it took Joey about two blocks to balance the bike and take off. What a difference!

That same year a 7-year-old girl from Brazil joined our family. For several months we had three languages: English for Joey, sign language for Danny and Portuguese for Tatiane. I never remembered what I told anyone, and I often yelled at the wrong child in the wrong language.

Danny struggled in school, especially with math. He had trouble paying attention. He couldn't write legibly because of his cerebral palsy. He started learning to type in second grade, but it always took him a long time. Danny repeated kindergarten and fifth grade. He had physical, occupational and speech therapy, adapted PE, and specialized instruction. Always cheerful, Danny would try and try and try again. He had the heart of a lion in a very small body.

He loved gates and cranes. His third grade teacher finally told him he could not write another story about a crane. He loved to read about American presidents. All his library books were biographies. He was fiercely patriotic and asked for a flagpole one Christmas (we got one). History and spelling were his strong subjects; he did poorly in math and science. He was interested in government and knew everyone on the city council. One time he even visited the mayor to ask for closed captioning for the council's televised meetings. He loved summer camp and went on a 50-mile canoe trip with the Boy Scouts. Through everything his cheerful attitude and beautiful smile were his trademarks.

Danny turned 21 this year. He graduated from high school and started work as a courtesy clerk in a grocery store. He is a skilled bus rider and has traveled as far as Vancouver, British Columbia, by himself. He continues to be cheerful, independent and well liked. He is great on the computer and recently bought himself a laptop. He loves his digital camera, cell phone (we text to each other) and Xbox. He communicates by signing, writing, e-mail and telephone relay service. He's learning to make his own doctor and dental appointments. In a few years he may try apartment living and community college classes.

Danny loves life. Almost as much as I love him.