Special Needs Adoption

by Elizabeth Fennelly of Following a Call to Adoption

Special Needs Adoption? Me? I’d never have considered myself “special needs adoption” material. I’m a “planner” and, although I generally ignore it, the fact is that I’m freakishly analytical. I think, rethink and over analyze everything… to death! I’m the kind of person that keeps pros and cons spreadsheets and right now, the analyst in me is freaked out and hyperventilating, wondering how it’s possible that we’re preparing to adopt a functionally deaf and blind toddler. Yes, I checked “blind – okay” on my spreadsheet, but deaf? No, that certainly wasn’t on my list and deaf AND blind, you better believe that wasn’t part of my plan! I’d planned it all out. We would adopt internationally; we’d adopt two little boys that wouldn’t have a home without us, but came “no strings attached”. I wanted orphans because I couldn’t face the guilt of delighting in my child, knowing that my joy came at the expense of another mother’s broken heart. So, no, a local little boy with significant handicaps was absolutely not part of my plan.

Am I panicking? Yes, I get a case of the “panic attacks” at least once a day and I ask myself over and over what I am doing and whether I’m about to make a huge mistake, one that will affect not only me, but the person that I love like I never imaged I could and who loves me no matter how obnoxious I am, and then, there’s this little blue-eyed miracle baby that doesn’t know we exist. But, no matter how many questions the rational me asks and how many frightening scenarios my mind creates, I don’t care because I love this child and it is stronger than any of my fears.

Am I the special needs adoption type? Yeah, I’ve still got to say that I’m not, as far as I’m concerned, I’m not adopting a “disabled” child. I am in awe of this toddler, who is happy and curious, despite facing a cross that makes my diabetes seem about as burdensome as a cold. I am fascinated by his ability to adapt and interact with all the “normal” people around him and by the fact that, although most people would consider him completely cut off from the world, he is affectionate and loving, recognizing when his foster mom is unhappy and delighting in making her laugh. This baby, who qualifies as both deaf and blind, and, according to society’s perspectives, is nothing but a burden, has a set of birth parents that loved him so much that they gave him up for adoption when they realized that they could not meet his basic needs. In addition to his birth parents, my little boy’s foster parents absolutely adore him. His foster parents have cared for him through his “deaf, blind, will never crawl or walk, or talk” diagnosis and, with the determination that can only be found in love, refused to accept that he would be condemned to a wheelchair and taught him to crawl, and to walk, and to run. And then, here we are, two random adults that have never met this little survivor, but are prepared to love him forever, not because we’re preparing to talk about how wonderful our kid is doing in school or what a great career he has, but because “there is no me without you”. That’s three complete sets of parents that are prepared to step way beyond their comfort zones, two of whom have or will have their hearts broken by loosing this little “burden”, and accept that sorrow because they love him. How many children have that kind of batting average? This is an amazing child and, God and the Province willing, I will rejoice in being his Mom.




We adopted a special-needs child, not because he was the best we could do, but because he was an amazing child, who happened to have some special-needs. Although many of my wonderful child's disabilities turned out to be terrible misdiagnosis - he does not have Cortical Visual Impairment of the first order, but mostly seems to have suffered from vision delays due to the fact that his extreme GERD meant that he was on his back almost all the time and his optic section of the brain was compressed by his flattened skull. When we brought him home, we increased his protein and calorie intakes significantly and the resulting growth spurt decompressed the back of his brain. Now, while he stills has his bad sight days, his principle problems are the stroke he had at birth, which means that his little left foot is constantly on point, his GERD, which resulted in a fear of food and means that he is only now learning to chew at age 5 (but he is such a trooper and tries so hard, even if you can see that he is kind of scared of choking!), and the fact that he has profound hearing loss. (Being born at 25 weeks and weighing in at 700 grams will make life a little harder.) However, he is an amazing and incredible child. I am profoundly grateful and blessed to be his mother. He is the greatest blessing of my life and, while everyone thought we were crazy to start with our family with a special-needs child, I believe that society has it all wrong about these kids. Kids are not commodities or some success goal. Kids are the opportunity to love beyond anything we imagined possible and our special-needs kids both return that love in a way that leaves me absolutely humbled. I am a Christian Catholic, so that affects the way that I view everything, but, when my son loves me and forgives me for failing to be Mom of the Year, he offers me a direct glimpse into the generosity of God. My son loves me unconditionally and it is humbling to have such a tiny, and often mischievous, little boy offer me the help and example I need to get up from my fall, ask forgiveness and try again. People ask me how I survive as a special-needs adoptive mom and I tell them that what they're seeing isn't surviving, it's thriving and I wouldn't change my life for the world!

(I am also a special-needs, foster-care adoption advocate and I believe that 300,000 plus kids in care, waiting for families to call their own, is a tragedy that must not be ignored!)