Blessings and bruises

Last year, when Ed and I were in the early stages of our adoption, one of the reasons that the China program looked so attractive is that our relationship with our baby's birth family would be very cut and dried. There would be no relationship. The vast majority of kids who are adopted from Chinese orphanages are abandoned, and after no one comes calling for them for a period of time (they even put finding ads in the newspapers) they are determined to be the equivalent of wards of the state. It seemed like things would be simpler if our baby didn't have birth parents who could call us or who might decide to change their minds; I'd seen too many friends, potential adoptive parents, who had gone through the agonies of waiting for babies only to come home empty-handed after those babies were born. I wasn't sure my heart could take that kind of pain.

On Saturday we gave Rose a name and a blessing. Ed held her in a circle of uncles and a grandpa and our bishop while he welcomed her to our family and talked about all of the things he hopes she will achieve in life, just like he's done for our four other kids. She even wore the same dress all of the other kids wore. And when we said "Amen," Rose looked up at her daddy and clapped her hands, a giant smile on her face. She seems perfectly content to be part of our family.

Then, on Monday, we took her to the hospital, where a group of surgeons repaired her lip, tacked her soft palate together for a future repair, and inserted a prosthetic hard palate and ear tubes. I spent a few nervous hours waiting with my mom and two dear friends who dropped by. And then it was over-- she was fixed. No more gap above her lip. No more formula coming out of her nose and boogers coming out of her mouth. She was bruised and swollen and sore, but also whole.

That night, we were carefully attended by a nurse who came to check vitals late in the night and told me that three years earlier she had placed a baby girl for adoption. "It's worked out really well," she said. "My family and I see her all the time; we've even gone on vacation together."

And now I wonder if I had it all wrong. Because there's nothing I want more than to tell Rose's birth parents that she's fine. Her lip is fixed. Her palate works the way a palate should. Rose thrived this year, despite all of the obstacles in her way. She's beautiful and curious and strong-- everything anyone could want from a child. And I'm so blessed that she's mine. But I wish I could give them a glimpse of how the baby girl they created and bore is turning out. It would surely heal their hearts more than it would render mine vulnerable. Because she's such a joy-- she's the best gift I've ever been given, and I have them to thank for it.