I’m not sure now how long we waited to hear about a possible child to adopt. I only recall that it didn’t take long it seemed. Our first son was introduced by our social worker through a photograph of one of his hands. We’d been told he had some kind of deformity of his hand. An encyclopaedia of birth defects from the hospital library was no help really. It simply made us realise how some pregnancies do not end in the ‘perfect’ child.
His hand was affected by amniotic bands, we’d not heard of those, making the digits shorter then usual. His thumb though was opposable which meant his hand would still be useful. Other prospective parents had decided he was not for them. We reckoned we’d cope so we were introduced. At the this time we were still attending group meetings with other potential parents and had to take him along. It did not go down well with some who had been waiting longer than us.
We did have a chance to get the opinion of a plastic surgeon about his hand. We had to take him to see the surgeon, before being officially ours, aged 10 weeks. It was the first time I’d driven a baby around and it was nerve wracking. Once done we left him with his foster family, who did a great job with a little baby who’d been voluntarily given up for adoption. We had to wait one day for the final approval of the agency and the relief was palpable. So began an exciting journey that continues to adulthood.
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