by Brandi Rarus
PRAISE FOR
Finding Zoe
“Finding Zoe is a heartwarming story about identity, self-acceptance, and love. Brandi shares her deeply personal experience of ‘coming of age’ during her years at Rochester Institute of Technology’s National Technical Institute for the Deaf. College is a transformative experience for most young people, but attending RIT/NTID after growing up as Brandi and I did, in hearing families and mainstream schools, is truly life-altering. Brandi beautifully captures the joy of finally fitting in, feeling at home, and finding yourself.”
—Dr. Gerard J. Buckley, President of National Technical Institute for the Deaf
“Motherhood—however it is achieved—is a beautiful thing. The journey in Finding Zoe is captivating and inspirational, and above all, a story about doing what is right for our children, as well as ourselves, no matter how difficult . . . and then seeing all of the pieces fall miraculously into place. Finding Zoe is a joy to watch unfold.”
—Jill Smokler, New York Times bestselling author of Confessions of a Scary Mommy and Motherhood Comes Naturally (And Other Vicious Lies)
“A must-read for any adoptive parent, or anyone considering adoption. Brandi Rarus’s story of Finding Zoe is an amazing reminder that the power of love overcomes life’s most challenging obstacles and nothing can stand in the way of what’s meant to be.”
—Mary Donahue, Senior Vice President of Non-Fiction at Lifetime Television Network, and adoptive parent
“Just as my character on Switched at Birth has helped to expose the Deaf community for what it really is to our mainstream TV audience, so too does Finding Zoe break down the barriers between the hearing and Deaf communities by showing Deaf Culture in ways never seen before . . . deaf people and deaf families with identity issues and conflicts universal in scope . . . seeking the love that all of us need . . . and the compelling lessons learned by being human. Bravo to Finding Zoe.”
—Sean Berdy, actor on the ABC TV hit series, Switched at Birth, and Peabody Award Recipient
“Finding Zoe shines an unbiased light on teen pregnancy, adoption, and the sacrifice parents make to find the best home for their children. A must-read for teenagers and their parents, or for anyone else who may be contemplating their choices for an unintended pregnancy.”
—Jan and Bob Charnecki, founders of Options Pregnancy Center
“A work of both heart and mind, driven by the authors’ passions to describe our rich history as deaf people, that paved the way for deaf children like Zoe . . . a book that both deaf and hearing people have longed for.”
—Greg Hlibok, student leader of the Deaf President Now protest at Gallaudet University
“This isn’t just a book for people interested in adoption; it’s an inspiring story that will touch the heart of anyone with a connection to children and families—which is to say, almost everyone.”
—Adam Pertman, Executive Director of Donaldson Adoption Institute, and author of Adoption Nation
“This really hits home . . . The story of a deaf baby who finds her way to a deaf family . . . and embraces her culture and language. A great introduction to the Deaf community.”
—Chris Wagner, President of National Association of the Deaf
Finding
Zoe
A DEAF WOMAN’S STORY
OF IDENTITY, LOVE,
AND ADOPTION
Finding
Zoe
Brandi Rarus
AND Gail Harris
BENBELLA BOOKS, INC.
DALLAS, TEXAS
Copyright 2014 © Brandi Rarus and Gail Harris
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
BenBella Books, Inc.
10300 N. Central Expressway
Suite #530
Dallas, TX 75231
www.benbellabooks.com
Send feedback to [email protected]
First e-book edition: October 2014
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Rarus, Brandi.
Finding Zoe: a deaf woman’s story of identity, love, and adoption / by Brandi Rarus and Gail Harris.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-940363-22-6 (hardback)—ISBN 978-1-940363-45-5 (electronic) 1. Rarus, Zoe. 2. Rarus, Brandi. 3. Deaf women—United States—Biography. 4. Deaf children—United States. 5. Deafness—United States. 6. Adoption—United States. I. Harris, Gail. II. Title.
HV2534.R37A3 2014
362.4’2092—dc23
[B]
2014014707
Editing by Erin Kelley
Copyediting by Julie McNamee
Proofreading by Amy Zarkos and Cape Cod Compositors, Inc.
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
Text design by John Reinhardt Book Design
Text composition by Integra Software Services Pvt. Ltd.
Printed by Lake Book Manufacturing
Distributed by Perseus Distribution
perseusdistribution.com
To place orders through Perseus Distribution:
Tel: 800-343-4499
Fax: 800-351-5073
E-mail: [email protected]
Significant discounts for bulk sales are available. Please contact Glenn Yeffeth at [email protected] or 214-750-3628.
For Edgar Bloom—
for your dedication to activism and paving the way for deaf people today
For Jess and BJ—
for giving me the gift of Zoe
For my sons, Blake, Chase, and Austin, without whom my journey to Self would not be complete. I love you more than life itself. B. R.
For Bill and Lucas—
Thank you for bringing yourselves to me every day.
For George Jaidar, my teacher—
I live to see through your eyes. G. H.
CONTENTS
Foreword
Preface
PART I
My Winding Road
Prologue
CHAPTER ONESuddenly Soundless
CHAPTER TWOChanged by a Deaf Priest
CHAPTER THREEDeaf President Now
CHAPTER FOURFull Circle
CHAPTER FIVEOur Family Hears
PART II
The Roads of Others
CHAPTER SIXJess and BJ
CHAPTER SEVENLove’s Sacrifice
CHAPTER EIGHTThe Right Thing to Do
PART III
The Roads Converge
CHAPTER NINEProvidence Provides
CHAPTER TENWaiting All Our Lives
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Resources
FOREWORD
ALL CHILDREN COME into our lives for a reason. Some are born to us, some are the children of friends or family, and some are brought to us through miracles. Some miracles come easy; others are disguised by struggles and weighted with challenges and tough decisions. Finding Zoe is the story of remarkable connections that entwined four families and led one baby girl away from perceived limitations and into the home of the mother—and family—that was meant to raise her.
I met Brandi Rarus for the first time when she became my understudy in the play Children of a Lesser God at the Immediate Theatre Company in Chicago. As teens, the two of us grew up in different suburbs of Chicago, but we shared the common experience of navigating our way through the mainstream at rival high schools. Midway through the play’s run, I captured the part of Sarah Norman in the movie version of Children of a Lesser God, and, at the age of 21, I became the youngest recipient of an Academy Award.
My work has
honored me with the privilege of worldwide travel, where I have met deaf and hard-of-hearing children from all walks of life. Like Brandi, I have always moved easily between the hearing and Deaf communities, but rather than seeing the separation between the two, I recognize that we all live in one world—a world in which our differences can be celebrated. I learned long ago to embrace who I am and what I believe in, and Brandi experiences a similar journey in Finding Zoe.
Since those early days, our lives have taken off in different directions, but our paths continue to cross at various events within our Deaf community. Like Brandi, I’m a mother of four children, a role that has always kept me centered and grounded in the midst of a whirlwind acting career. I know without question that the love a mother has for her child is fierce and strong and that whether that child is biological or adopted, a mother’s heart knows no boundaries. Zoe began her life with two extremely young parents, a first set of adoptive parents, and foster parents, and then found her way into the hearts of Brandi’s family—where she belonged all along. Finding Zoe isn’t just the story of a deaf child’s journey; it is a story of love, heartache, sacrifice, and celebration.
Our stories in life are never really about what divides us anyway. Instead, they are about what brings us together in love, in sacrifice, in our heartaches, and in our joys. They are about how we survive when hope fades and how we rise above the crush of our own self-doubt. What we discover along the way is that our own perceptions are critical to our happiness and that our miracles are always found in acceptance and celebration of our differences.
—MARLEE MATLIN, ACADEMY AWARD–WINNING ACTOR
PREFACE
HOW FITTING THAT Brandi would ask us to write the preface for this beautiful, telling story. Not only was Alan the director of the National Technical Institute for the Deaf (when Brandi was a bubbly, young student there in the late 1980s) and is now the president of Gallaudet University—both of which have given us a connection to her for many years—but also, in so many ways, our backgrounds and experiences as parents are similar to hers and her husband Tim’s.
We can appreciate what a lucky child Zoe really is. To have parents like Brandi and Tim who are so involved in our Deaf community has given Zoe the opportunity to continuously learn about her culture—that of being deaf and proud. It didn’t surprise us when a few years back, Brandi uprooted the entire family, moving them from Clearwater, Florida, to Austin, Texas, just so that Zoe could attend the Texas School for the Deaf.
As is evident from reading this tale, Brandi was meant to be Zoe’s mother. We were in awe of Brandi’s life story and are grateful to her for baring her soul and writing personally and candidly about her experiences. As president of Gallaudet University, Alan is proud to be a part of the “Deaf President Now” legacy, shared so intimately and meaningfully in this book—the first we’d ever read that covers this monumental movement in Deaf History from such a personal perspective.
The story is sure to inspire both deaf and hearing people alike about things concerning adoption, being true to yourself, holding on to your dreams, and turning your life around. Perhaps from reading this book, another deaf couple will be blessed with adopting a deaf child someday.
The truth is, every child—deaf and hearing—should be blessed with a family as loving and as in tune as Zoe’s (including her three older hearing brothers), and as this book is passed on throughout our community, some three million strong, for generations to come, we’re sure that it will help that vision to manifest.
—T. ALAN HURWITZ AND VICKI T. HURWITZ,
President and First Lady, Gallaudet University
“. . . Zoe, the Greek word for life as God has it.”
—MAX LUCADO, 3:16: THE NUMBERS OF HOPE
PART I
My Winding Road
PROLOGUE
ZOE SAT CROSS-LEGGED on the living room floor, her palms cupping her chin, her mouth agape. “Do it again, Daddy!” she said. “Do it again.” Tim’s hands flew as he painted a landscape of Santa with his sleigh and reindeer, zooming across the starlit sky, then landing on the roof and squeezing down the chimney. Snow was falling, and the moon was dark. With his hands and facial expressions, in American Sign Language (ASL), Tim was creating a magnificent vista, telling the story of the fat man getting stuck in the chimney . . . and Zoe was laughing.
It was 2006 and the Christmas I had always dreamed about having but thought might never happen. My eyes drank in my two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, my daughter, in a Christmas storybook scene, her sparkling eyes revealing her deep sense of peace and belonging. That afternoon was my own private miracle. Watching Zoe filled me with such joy, I could hardly contain it. For a second, I worried again that, just maybe, I loved her too much—and that my three sons felt that I loved them less. This is my cross. No matter how many times they tell me how much they feel my love, I can’t help feeling that way.
It has to do with the fact that Zoe, like me, is deaf.
Within my community, the Deaf community, my situation is somewhat rare because most deaf people have never also been hearing. It’s been a gift of sorts as it allows me to be with hearing people one minute and deaf people the next, and generally, to be at ease around hearing people. Because I could already speak before I became deaf, I do have some speech—what I call a “deaf voice.” At first, most people think that I sound funny, but after a short while, they are usually able to understand me. Because I lip-read, I never give a second thought to going into Starbucks and asking for a cup of coffee. I know what to expect: I’m going to ask for the coffee; they’re going to ask me if I want room for cream. I’ll say yes; they’ll tell me how much it costs. I’ll pay and then leave. I feel in control of the situation.
This ease with life was not easily won; however, it was inextricably linked to my desire for a daughter, something I’d been aware of ever since I was a little girl. When each of my three sons was born, each was my pride and joy. Yet their births just widened the hole that could only be filled by my having a daughter, for a reason I had yet to discover. As I look back on my life, with the gift of time and hindsight revealing everything, it was as if God had swooped down from above and said, “Here’s your deaf daughter. You, Brandi, of all people, deserve her.”
The first step of that journey began one fateful day in March of 1974.
Chapter One
SUDDENLY SOUNDLESS
THE BLINDING LIGHT is what I remember most. I wanted to put my hands over my eyes but was too weak to do so. It was 2:00 AM, and I was lying face up in the emergency room, more scared than I can say. I don’t remember much else before being electrocuted, or so it felt, but I do remember the doctor turning me over, pushing aside my hospital gown, and rubbing my lower back with alcohol. I can smell it now.
Then came the blow—a sharp prick sending excruciating shock waves up to my head and down to my toes. I let out a scream, which my mother, who was outside in the hallway, couldn’t bear to hear. I was only six years old. The doctor had given me a spinal tap, and there was nothing left for my mother to do except swallow her tears and wait for the results.
Thus began two weeks of hell for her and two weeks of drifting in and out of sleep—rather peacefully—for me. The days leading up to that night, when I was burning up with a fever, had been much worse for me. I remember reaching into the freezer for ice cubes to put on my forehead. It was March 1974; I was in kindergarten. We lived in Naperville, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago. My mother had already taken me to the doctor, who said that I had a bad flu but I would be okay. He was so wrong.
The day she took me to the hospital, I had been lying on the living room couch. My mother had come over and sat down next to me. “How’s my sweetie?” she asked. I shook my head. She kissed me on the forehead and then went into the kitchen to talk to my father. “Bill, call the babysitter to cancel,” she said. “We can’t go out tonight.” They had theater tickets for a show that was playing in Chicago. My mother came back to me and took me upstai
rs to my room. I must have fallen asleep because I remember waking up, hours later, and feeling like I was going to die. I called my mother. She came running into my room. “Mom, I don’t feel good,” I told her.
“Can you put your chin to your chest?”
“It hurts,” I told her, after trying. She couldn’t remember how she knew to ask that question, but remembered that if the answer was no, it was a very bad sign. I was wearing my favorite pink-and-white pajamas, and she picked me up, wrapped me in a blanket, and then took me to the hospital while my father stayed home with my brother, Bryan, who was a year and a half younger than me. The doctor who admitted me said that it looked like I had spinal meningitis, but that the spinal tap would confirm his diagnosis.
About an hour after my mother heard me scream, the doctor came into the waiting room to talk to her. “Mrs. Sculthorpe, please sit down.” My mother’s heart skipped a beat. “It is spinal meningitis—a very bad case. We’re doing everything we can, but you need to be prepared. We’re not sure if she’ll make it through the night.”
That’s when my mother turned to the doctor and said, “She will not die, doctor. She will not die.” Years later, those words would make me stronger.
They put me in isolation and gave my mother a gown and mask to put on before coming to my room. A profoundly spiritual woman, that night she felt betrayed by God. Where are you? she asked him silently. Why is this happening? Why are you letting this happen? She sat in my room and wept for hours, holding my hand.
The night passed. I didn’t die. Then the next passed. When it started to look as if I were going to live, the question then became what havoc the illness would wreak upon my body. Deafness, epilepsy, blindness, or any combination of the three were all possibilities, the doctors said. My parents were just relieved that I wasn’t going to die.
