 We are shopping around for the perfect child
(Irish Independent 1st June, 2004)
Irish people too picky; apparently adoptive parents here are demanding
nothing less than perfection, Sue Leonard reports
What has happened to the Irish mammy? Where are the women like Mrs Browne of
My Left Foot fame, who gave her all to encourage her disabled son, Christy?
The Mammy was once a dedicated soul who sacrificed herself for her
gargantuan brood.
But these days Irish mothers have become picky people; people who will only
consider a perfect baby girl, even though they are desperate for a child. Or
so say the adoption authorities in Belarus.
It was one of the reasons that they suspended all adoptions to Ireland
recently. Officials there claim that all the applicants from Ireland want is
'healthy girls under two years of age'.
Kiernan Gildea, registrar with the Adoption Board, rejects this claim. But
he says that in the main Irish couples do set out looking for healthy babies
when they start out on the long hard road to adoption.
"And sometimes if they specify a girl or a boy, which often happens in
second adoptions, the country will try and facilitate them. But couples are
not so narrow in their acceptance that they would turn down a number of
referrals," he says.
The rest of us, giving birth to our own children, have to take what we get.
Yet are we really any less picky than those who have endured the heartache
of infertility? In our 'have it all and have it now' lifestyle, we don't
accept the idea of disability or death as our mothers and grandmothers did.
Aren't we all guilty of yearning for a designer baby to enhance our lives?
If something goes wrong in life, we automatically look for someone to blame.
Look at all the mammoth claims in the courts suing restaurants, employers,
drivers and doctors.
Obstetrician Peter Boylan, former master of the National Maternity Hospital,
Holles Street, Dublin, says we all expect perfection these days. And that
means that his insurance premium has hit the roof - as have those of all
Irish obstetricians.
"Our expectations of public service are very high today," says Boylan. "We
expect our aeroplanes to fly on time; we expect our TVs to work.
"Everything in society has changed. And the same translates into childbirth.
Women expect this wonderful Hollywood childbirth, and the portrayals are
often not realistic - so it's setting them up for disappointment."
How right he is! Remember that virtually pain-free labour on the last
episode of Friends? And worse, Chandler's panicked reaction when the
surrogate produced not one but two babies for the couple to take home?
Muttering that they hadn't 'ordered' two, Chandler wondered about their
chances of selling the second baby.
We can laugh and think how over-the-top that scene was, but don't we all
expect our designer-clad darlings to fit seamlessly into our hectic
lifestyles? Some of us aren't even prepared to let nature take its course.
Boylan often gets requests from couples to have a convenient induction, to
facilitate a couple's business schedule. In England they go one step further
and demand Caesarean sections. Snooker champion Mark Williams caused outrage
when he booked his wife's Caesarean earlier than her due date so that he
could relax in Sheffield and defend his title.
Jo was left in Cardiff caring for baby Connor as she recovered alone from
what is, after all, major abdominal surgery. Can there be a greater
sacrifice?
Thankfully, we're not all grasping parents who demand perfection. The big
Irish heart still exists; dedicated women still work with the handicapped,
and still foster and adopt those who come with a suitcase of problems.
"Over the years we have applicants who accept kids with medical, physical
and emotional disabilities," says Kiernan Gildea. "And that is just great." |
 'I didn't come out of Mummy's tummy; I came on a plane'
(Irish Independent, 1st June, 2004)
Hugh and Avril Ryan applied to adopt in 2000. They were the parents of three
sons, but Avril had later lost three babies and felt a desperate longing for
a fourth child.
"When you plan your family and that choice is taken away, you feel a
desperate emptiness," she says.
But in February 2000, when they were working in Belarus with the Chernobyl
Children's Project, they saw three-year-old Antonina, and their original
adoption plan evaporated.
"How do you pick a child?" asks Avril. "We didn't pick a child. This little
face just looked at us. And that was it."
The couple had already been accepted by the Adoption Board, but now changed
their age-related request. They brought Antonina home before Christmas.
Antonina was cross-eyed, with a conversion squint, and she had never talked.
But all that soon changed. Now seven, Antonina is a bright child who has
blended in brilliantly at school.
"She's now just Antonina Ryan, and the children in her class know no
difference. She's the average height for a seven-year-old, and is in
advanced reading. She's got a good maths brain too, and she's just so
creative," says her proud mother. "She is an endless pit of love. A glowing,
perfectly normal child."
Antonina understands that she was adopted. "She understands that there is a
big house in Belarus where children wait for parents. She says: 'I didn't
come out of my Mummy's tummy; I came on a plane'."
If you give birth to a child you have to keep it, says Avril of people who
will only accept a 'normal' baby. "All children have problems when they
arrive, whether they're your own or adopted. If you are desperate for a
child it will work out," she says.
"I'm a great believer in love conquers all. We didn't know anything about
Antonina's background. We adopted her completely blind, and it has worked
out fantastically; and so have all the other adoptions that I've heard of.
"We would sooner die than hand a child back."
Ann Carolan wishes more people would adopt children with a handicap, because
there is a huge need to help the children in Belarus. At 57, Ann has five
children, aged from 29 to 21, and two grandchildren.
She has a background in childcare, and has been involved in bringing
Chernobyl children to Ireland for rest and recuperation for the past nine
years.
That's how she met Raisa, a little girl with damaged legs and a cleft
palate, who couldn't walk and needed lots of medical treatment. Wanting
Raisa to stay in Ireland, Ann looked for adoptive parents for the child.
One or two couples came forward. "But they said: 'I couldn't bear looking at
her legs'." Ann could not stand sending the brown-eyed child she'd come to
love back to Belarus after each visit.
"One time she shut the doors and said: 'I am staying here - I don't want to
go', and it broke my heart," says Ann.
In the end, she and her husband, Tom, decided to adopt Raisa themselves.
They applied to the Adoption Board in 2000, and after two long years, when
she was six, Raisa became theirs.
After four years in an orphanage, Raisa used to get flashbacks when she
screamed and screamed, but with constant love she has got over that now.
"You have to be aware of that, and of rocking with an older child, but the
babies can develop problems too," says Ann. "People should always be aware
that they must expect anything.
"Raisa has so many talents, and she is beautiful," says Ann. "She is so
settled here. Every neighbour knows her and loves her, and come Christmas
there is a present from each one of them." |
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