Why Adopt from Bulgaria?

Yesterday, I posted a little about the culture of Bulgaria. Today, I want to tell you more about why we adopt from Bulgaria. The reason? The kids.

I haven't met the children stuck in the institutions of Bulgaria - yet. But Rosa Monckton has. She works for the Bulgaria Anbandoned Children's Trust and volunteers in orphanages in Bulgaria. Here is what Rosa can tell you about the abandoned children in Bulgaria. (And hence the reason Andrew and I are adopting...)

The forgotten ones

How can things change for the children of Bulgaria’s institutions?

by Rosa Monckton 

(published in The Spector in February 2013)

"It was something about the twins that got to me; after seeing so many baby institutions and children’s homes, I had almost grown used to abandoned children in ranks of cots, staring at the ceiling. The twins — a boy and a girl of six — were set apart; pale, twisted, both with cerebral palsy. Their mother left them in the institution on the day their father had kicked her out for ‘only being able to have crippled children’. I reached into the girl’s cot to hold her hand, and her steady gaze held mine. I bent over to hold her brother’s foot, and felt like a lightning rod between them. But the missing link is their mother.

"Bulgaria has the highest rate of institutionalised children in Europe, more than 8,000 in 32 buildings, many in the most inaccessible parts of the country. I have been going there for five years, with the Bulgarian Abandoned Children’s Trust, which, along with other NGOs, is trying to change things.

"Late last year, the new health minister, Desislava Atanasova, made an unscheduled visit to Pleven, which has the largest baby institute in the country. She then gave a press conference, where she told of the conditions in which the children lived, and in which, over the course of the past 18 months, the same number had died. She told of babies being fed with bottles long after they should be on solid food. She described three-year-olds unable to walk or talk, and 16-year-olds (this is an institution for children up to three) being kept there to justify the employment of 170 staff.

"I have been several times to Pleven, and carry memories that haunt me. I think particularly about the disabled children, locked away on a separate floor, many growing into the shape of their cots, and dying of starvation and neglect. These children are robbed of any chance of life. The stench of urine and feces and rotting teeth is all-pervading. If evil has a smell, then this is it. Only 2 per cent of the babies in these institutions are actually orphans. The rest are abandoned due to poverty and parental neglect, and many simply because they are disabled.

"Because all 32 baby institutions come under the ministry of health, they are run along medical lines, and there is nothing in the way of education or affection. Much of the damage to the children is due to a lack of stimulation and interaction. The children don’t talk, because nobody has ever bothered to talk to them. They don’t walk because they are never allowed out of their cots, and their muscles have wasted away.

"We have started a Granny (Baba) programme in Pleven. Twenty local ladies come in for four hours a day. Each Baba has one able-bodied child and one disabled child to look after. The difference this has made to the the children lucky enough to be on this programme is startling, but not surprising. Children are talking, and some are walking. They are learning to feed themselves, and to trust, to feel and to play. It is dreadful to see them being put back into their cots at the end of their four hours, and even worse to look at all the other children who have not yet been out of theirs. After the visit from the minister of health, journalists in Bulgaria described Pleven as ‘the death camp for children’.

"There is a commitment to start a ‘de-institutionalisation’ process, with EU money. It is difficult to believe that the Bulgaria I see in these homes is part of the EU, and strange that, before its accession, the country was not bound to the same strictures about closing institutions as Romania was. Eight baby homes are marked for closure, but the task is huge. There are few family support services in the community. On a recent trip, I met a group of mothers who had defied the state (which still, via the doctors, puts great pressure on mothers to give up their disabled children) and kept their disabled children at home. I have never seen such exhausted women.

"Small group homes are being built, for up to eight children at a time. I visited one recently at 3.30 in the afternoon and found all the disabled young teenagers in bed, with only one carer on duty. If the money is going into building these homes, and none into staffing them and re-training the staff, they will become replicas of the larger institutions.

"I have worked with some inspirational Bulgarians who have dedicated their lives to making a difference to these forgotten children; people who have stood up against their local communities. Often, these institutions are the only source of local employment, and there is enormous, sometimes violent, resistance to their closure. But without a serious will for change, and a national policy on making disability acceptable, the twins I saw this week will spend their lives staring at ceilings."

That is why Andrew and I are adopting from Bulgaria. Not because we are saints. Not because this will be easy. Not because we are someone special. But because Jesus cares for children and He wants us to care for them too. Because God intended children to grow up in families with loving parents, not in institutions.

More than Love by John Moore

When my wife and I felt called to adopt, I remember thinking, All kids need is a little love.  Now, as I reflect on our experience of adopting six children from foster care, I realize that those are some of the most naive words we ever allowed ourselves to believe.

As so many well-meaning parents do, we approached adoption and foster care thinking that our love could somehow erase our children's past hurts.  Reality hit our expectations head on--and reality inevitably gets the last word.

We learned this lesson early when we adopted two boys, loved them and treated them as we would our biological children--and then wondered why they behaved in such a disruptive manner.

My wife and I asked ourselves, What can we do differently? How can we help our children?

There were no easy answers.  What we learn is that when adopting a child who comes from a difficult situation, we must expect some form of hidden pain to emerge.  You can't always predict when, where, or how, but you can be certain threat pain will surface.

Several years after joining our family, one of my sons was going through a dark time in his young life.  As we talked, he confessed that he had always believed it was his fault that he and his brother had been placed in foster care.  He couldn't shake this belief.

When my son confessed this to me, I desperately wanted to ease his pain, as I did when he cut his finger or scraped his knee.  But I came to realize that it's almost arrogant to believe that my love alone will heal my child's wounds.  Just as only Jesus can heal me, I now recognize that He alone can heal my child.

Over the years, I've learned a lot about my role as a dad.  It is my job to protect my children and provide them with structure and guidance.  It is my job to give them a safe and loving home and to support them with professional help when needed.  But perhaps my most important role is to mode for my children a humble recognition of human limitations and, in turn,  our utter dependence on Jesus.  When I entrust my children, and all of their pain, to His transformational love, I admit that alone I cannot heal them.  Instead, I point them to the One who can.

(From Article "Adoption in Real Life" by Katie Overstreet in October/November 2012 Issue Thriving Family,  a free magazine published by Focus on the Family. John Moore is a regular speaker at Focus on the Family's Wait No More events.)

Reshaping Expectations by Michael Monroe

Who are you?  I remember wondering as I looked into the face of my young son.  It was the moment when I first began to face the reality of the adoption journey and how it was different from my expectations.

Long before I had a chance to get to know my son, I had created an unrealistic picture about who he would be.  On top of that, I expected the adoption journey to be relatively easy once we brought our son home.  Indeed, I'd convinced myself that adoption was little more than a historical fact of how a family came to be, not on ongoing journey.

True, all parents start out with some unrealistic expectations.  But for adoptive families, these unfulfilled expectations cal lead to disappointment and even disconnection between parents and children.  When a child's history of pain and loss begins to depart from what parent's expected their adoption journey to look like, parents can be tempted to protect their wishful assumptions rather than acknowledge their child's history and feelings.  When a child's behaviors begin to collide with the "way we do things as a family," parents can find themselves quickly nearing the pint of despair.

I know these expectations well. When faced with this reality, my instinct was to respond by looking at my child and pointing accusing fingers as if to ask, "What's wrong with you?"  As I began to lay down my assumptions, I discovered that my calling as an adoptive parent was to meet my child where he was.

The adoption journey invites parents to move beyond what we want and embrace what our children need.  And as we let go of our expectations, we find that God's desires for us and our family are so much greater than what we ever anticipated.

In both the good times and bad, in both the joy and the pain, God is writing a story of hope, redemption and love within our lives . I am still learning who my son is.  And I have come to see that he doesn't have to become more like me or even who I thought he would be in order for our family to become the "we" that God intended.

(From Article "Adoption in Real Life" by Katie Overstreet in October/November 2012 Issue Thriving Family,  a free magazine published by Focus on the Family.  Bold added for emphasis. Michael Monroe and his wife, Amy, lead Tapestry Adoption and Foster Care Ministry.)

Our Weakness, His Power by Kelly Rosati

After adopting two children through foster care, my husband, John, and I thought our family was complete.  But we soon felt that God had other plans, that He wanted us to continue growing our family through adoption.

We had many objections, of course: We already have two kids. Will we be able to give them enough attention and care? Life with Daniel and Anna is great.  Why would we go through the adoption the difficult process again?

Those were all reasonable concerns.  But at the end of the day none seemed as important as our continued sense of God's leading.

We talked to Daniel and Anna, of course, who supported the idea form the get-go. "Well, we have a family," they said.  "They can come live with us!"

Daniel's and Anna's compassionate attitudes at such young ages helped us cut through the clutter in our own minds.  God so often speaks through children.

Eight months later, we finalized the adoption of our son Joshua.  For Joshua, there would be no more moves.  No more Trauma.  No more uncertain future.  He was home.  And John and I were feeling...despondent.

Yes, you read that right.  A mysterious despair had crept into our hearts and minds.  And then we had guilt from our feelings of despondency.  Why should we have such feelings?

The unfortunate truth is that the pain and difficulty associated with a child's past, and how the family must face it, are rarely discussed.  There is shame involved, ant that shame leads to isolation and silence--the opposite of God's plan for our lives.

I think John and I felt pressure to act as though everything were fine.  Somehow we felt these emotional struggles indicated that we'd lost faith.  Looking back, we know that this kind of thinking wasn't true, but it sure felt true at the time.

It took many months before our feelings returned to normal.  But God used that exceedingly painful and unwanted period to continue teaching us that we live by faith, not by feelings.

Having gone through that difficult experience, John and I think that folks going through the same thing need to reach out and talk to others, seek professional help or join a support group.  We know from Scriptures that God's grace is sufficient for us and that His power is made perfect in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).  He can and will work through our weakness.

(From Article "Adoption in Real Life" by Katie Overstreet in October/November 2012 Issue Thriving Family,  a free magazine published by Focus on the Family.  Read more about Kelly and John Rosati in Wait No More: One Family's Amazing Adoption Journey. )