Big wraps and tears

               Eight weeks after I found myself in the classroom with Fannie and her vial of oil, I discovered I was pregnant again.  It was with mixed emotions that I continued to teach.  My job was very physically taxing and of course I was concerned that I might miscarry again.  We had been involved in the adoption process for about six months and I was afraid that if I miscarried, it would have been six months of wasted time.  Also if we told our social worker I was pregnant, she would have demanded that we stop the process again altogether.  The agency did not approve of adopting a child and then having one biologically too close in age.  Michael and I prayed about our decision and then chose to keep the pregnancy under wraps (by spring, REALLY BIG wraps!).  Surprisingly, the pregnancy went off without a hitch until late spring.  I was due in July to give birth, but in February, our social worker, Marcia, gave us a picture of the baby boy from Korea that was to be our son—Sang Kyoo Lee.  He had been born on Feb. 27, 1986 and his estimated arrival to the U.S. was sometime between April and June. Michael and I went round and round on names, finally deciding to keep the “Lee,” renaming our son Scott Lee.

            Meanwhile, I continued to go to work each day, except now I had adopted a new morning ritual—throwing up in my classroom trash can several days a week.  Mr. Kurt, who was so kind and easygoing about unstopping the toilets Joe occasionally plugged up, was even more compassionate about cleaning my trash cans.  Everyone at school knew what Michael and I had been through to try to start a family, so there was excitement and acceptance surrounding me everyday as I went to work. 

            When I took the picture of our beautiful Korean baby to work, Colleen insisted on making copies on the copy machine to post throughout the school.  Mr. Kurt would check with me every morning to make sure I was feeling okay. When my student Michael kicked me in the stomach, there was help and concern from all the special education teachers and aides.  Our friends at our church were planning a huge baby shower and I continued to wear really baggy clothes to our meetings with Marcia.

            We were down to our final meeting with Marcia.  Michael and I had planned to go out and celebrate that night.  Marcia was not the warmest person to talk with and she did not seem happy in her personal life or in her professional life.  But we had completed the required meetings with her and at this final meeting, she would hand us her “recommendation.”

            We muddled through the small talk and reviewed what we had discussed in our last session.

            “Before I give you my recommendation,” she began toward the end of the hour, “I would like for you both to share with me one more time what you believe to be the most important aspects of parenting.”

            We both spoke freely on the subject.  If there was one thing we were confident about, it was our philosophies regarding parenting.  We both ended our monologues with just a tinge of defensiveness.  We had been through so much discussion with Marcia, we felt as though we were covering territory that had already been covered over and over. 

            “Well, today is the big day,” she summarized.  “After all the meetings we have had and the many discussions on parenting and looking at your relationship with each other, I have come to the conclusion that I can NOT recommend you for this adoption.”

            “WHAT?”  Our mouths dropped.  This script was terribly messed up!

            “I just do not feel like your marriage is mature enough and Mike, I don’t think you will be a nurturing parent at all.”

            I took the picture of our baby that was always on me and held it in my hands, gazing down at this boy who had been my “emotional baby” for almost a year and a reality since we received this picture of him in Februrary.  A tear slipped down my cheek.

            “I don’t feel like you are being fair,” I cried.  “How can you meet with us for so many sessions, never mentioning any concerns and then suddenly yank this baby out of our reach?”

            “Is there a way to change your mind about this recommendation?” Michael asked quietly.  “What do we need to do to convince you we will be good parents?”

            “I’ll tell you what,” she held out a speck of hope, “we have a marriage counselor we use in situations like this.  If you agree to let him evaluate you for 2-3 sessions and he has no concerns, I can give you the green light to continue with the adoption.”

            We walked out of the office, hand in hand.   Sitting in the car, the shock and stress of the situation permeated the air.  Michael rubbed my shoulders for a minute and then we sadly drove home.