Finding Zoe

by Brandi Rarus

  Still hopeful that with hearing aids they could all get along just fine, they forged on, taking her to a geneticist, who, after finding no signs of a more serious problem, recommended that Celine be evaluated at a renowned hearing center in Omaha, Nebraska. On a whim, she decided to draw some of Celine’s blood.

  Two days later, they had their answer: Celine had CMV (Cytomegalovirus)—a common virus from the herpes family, such as chicken pox or mononucleosis. Even though only 10 percent of the babies who test positive for it are symptomatic, the symptoms can include deafness, blindness, mental retardation, and auditory processing disorders. The chances of a baby contracting the virus are extremely rare, as the mother has to contract it in her first pregnancy between her twenty-second and twenty-fourth weeks, and even when she does and passes it on to her baby, only 10 percent of those babies ever have any symptoms at all.

  Sandy and Stephane were beside themselves and very scared of what it would mean for Celine and for them. They believed that the condition could continue to progress and that Celine might develop additional symptoms, which was what frightened them most. The diagnosis changed everything because now they were not only dealing with the possibility of deafness but also more serious conditions later on.

  They were given options and learned that Celine would be a great candidate for a cochlear implant, a sound-stimulation device that can help a deaf child to hear and, as a result, learn to speak. The implant has two parts: one part is inserted surgically into the brain, and the other, a magnetic coil, is attached to the outside of the head and acts like the cochlea, helping to stimulate the damaged nerves that send sound to the brain. A person wearing a cochlear implant can hear sound, but the sound is more robotic than what a hearing person hears.

  Stephane and Sandy didn’t feel emotionally capable of embracing that.

  They knew nothing about being deaf and feared that they wouldn’t be able to give Celine what she needed. The language issue would be difficult enough—teaching Celine sign language, while learning it themselves—but with the CMV diagnosis, they kept thinking, What else?

  Stephane had grown up with a severely handicapped cousin and had seen the pain and hardship that his aunt lived with every day. But he believed that she had been given that situation, and had Sandy given birth to Celine, they, too, would have done their best to raise her—no matter what. He felt that part of the magic and mystery of giving birth to a child is parenting that particular child.

  However, he believed that the one benefit of adopting a child was being able to decide whether that child was right for his family. He felt that until three months from now, when he signed the papers in front of a judge legally making him Celine’s father, that he had the right—and the obligation—to say no if the situation no longer felt right. He and Sandy had been clear with New Horizons from the very beginning that they did not want to adopt a child with a physical limitation. It was a hard truth to admit, but he believed in always being honest with himself and with others.

  Sandy was falling apart, and Stephane was afraid of the situation destroying their family, causing a level of stress that would tear them apart.

  One evening, they sat in the living room and talked.

  “I don’t feel capable of taking care of her but don’t feel capable of letting her go,” Sandy cried, as if she were deciding which cross to bear.

  “It’s also all the uncertainty,” Stephane added. “And I’m hardly here. It would be all on you.”

  “What happens if, down the road, she can’t even process sign language?” Sandy continued.

  “It’s not likely, but it’s possible,” Stephane replied. “It’s such a rare condition to begin with.”

  “And what about Antoine? He needs us, too.”

  “But she’s our daughter,” Stephane said.

  “Oh, God, please help Celine and help us to know what to do.” Sandy prayed.

  Stephane reached over and held Sandy for a minute and then said, “Look. Let’s see what her next hearing test shows. If her hearing hasn’t gotten any worse, then maybe it’s a sign that her condition is stabilizing, and that we’ll be all right.” He paused and then said, “However, if her hearing has worsened, then I think that we have to let her go.”

  Sandy closed her eyes and nodded in agreement.

  Ten excruciating days later, they sat in the examination room next to Celine, who was lying on a table, sedated, an IV stuck in her tiny arm. She was there for a follow-up BAER hearing test to further evaluate the function of her auditory nerve, cochlea, and hearing pathways in her brain. The test was pretty straightforward; the audiologist would increase the level of sound stimulation to her brain, and her responses would be recorded on a screen.

  The room was dark and quiet. The woman placed electrodes that would measure her brainwaves on Celine’s forehead, scalp, and earlobes, and a small headphone was placed inside each ear.

  The audiologist switched on her equipment. A series of clicks, hisses, and other sounds broke the silence. Sandy and Stephane’s eyes were glued to the screen. By then, they knew exactly what to look for.

  The audiologist began increasing the level of sound stimulation, but Celine didn’t respond. Louder and louder, but still no response. Sandy and Stephane sat there, a sickening knowing washing over them, and their hopes diminishing in direct proportion to the sounds that Celine couldn’t hear.

  In half an hour, it was all over. The audiologist told them that Celine was deaf in one ear, almost deaf in the other, and that, in a month, she’d be deaf in that ear, too.

  The word “deaf” reverberated in Sandy’s own ears, down to her very soul—“D” for “deaf,” and “D” for “dreams destroyed.”

  Stephane held Sandy close. He, too, had prayed for a miracle. But there were no mistakes—the pieces all finally fit.

  “We’ll need to do it quickly,” Sandy said while they were driving home from the appointment. “It just hurts too much.”

  “We’ll call Marlys tomorrow,” Stephane said. “I only hope that she understands.” They drove the rest of the way home in silence with Celine resting peacefully in back.

  It was September 27th, the day I completed my paperwork for China. The night before, Tim had told me that he wouldn’t deny me my daughter.

  The following day they called Marlys, who to Stephane’s amazement, understood. She asked if they would care for Celine until she was placed in a new home, but Sandy felt that it would just be much too difficult for her to handle emotionally, knowing that any day she’d be saying goodbye to her forever. Marlys arranged for them to bring Celine back to Lois and Chuck’s house. Stephane, while believing in his heart that they were doing the right thing both for them and for Celine, was sick with worry about what would happen to her and if she would be okay. He was afraid of her becoming an orphan. However, Marlys assured him that, in all her years of finding homes for children, that had never happened.

  Marlys met with Jess to tell her the news. By that time, Jess had been receiving pictures of Celine every week from Sandy and Stephane for four months, so she couldn’t imagine what Marlys wanted to talk to her about. She was a wreck and just felt so horrible for Celine, thinking that since Sandy and Stephane had given up their parental rights for her, she was “parentless.” (Several weeks after that, when she received their letter explaining that they just didn’t have the necessary tools to deal with Celine’s deafness, she thought that they were being incredibly selfish.) She asked Marlys if she would have to take care of Celine again, but Marlys just told her to look at what happened as an opportunity to choose a better adoptive family for Celine. She also told her about the CMV, and Jess remembered having a terrible bout with the flu during the twenty-second week of her pregnancy and figured that was when she’d contracted the virus.

  * * *

  SANDY BEGAN GATHERING Celine’s belongings to give to Lois for her foster babies. She believed that, in order to heal, she needed to let go of them as well. It was Sandy’s own privat
e Cleansing Stream, the name of a seminar she had taken given by the church that helped her to cleanse herself of negative thoughts and emotions by using prayer, affirmations, and other self-disciplines. She even gave Lois Celine’s baby calendar, believing that it just didn’t belong to her anymore. She gave away almost everything of Celine’s, but she kept the butterfly mobile, knowing that she would need her grandfather’s strength to pull her through this crisis.

  She had hit rock bottom—giving back her daughter, her dreams being ripped out from under her feet, trusting that there had to be a better family out there for Celine somewhere, but feeling like she’d failed her just the same. She thought of Jess, finally understanding what she must have gone through, too.

  It helped that Marlys had embraced their decision, and they took this as a sign that they were doing the right thing; dropping Celine off at their friends’ house—and not into some black hole—was also comforting. When they arrived at Lois and Chuck’s house, Sandy hugged Marlys, who had already arrived, and then fell into Lois’s arms crying. Even she understood—more than they could know.

  * * *

  LOIS HELD SANDY while she cried. She had more than just an inkling of what her friend might be going through. It was extremely rare that Lois cared for the same baby twice, yet, when Marlys had called, asking if she could care for Celine, again, she already knew how difficult a situation it was.

  She never knew when Marlys would call, but Lois was always available—opening her foster home to any newborn needing a place to stay, giving their birth mother (or birth father) time to decide whether they wanted to parent or place their baby for adoption.

  She didn’t even mind going without vacations or always staying close to home. She believed it was her destiny, that God had plucked her out of obscurity—the rural town of Blue Earth, Minnesota—and given the opportunity for her to provide a foster home. Usually, foster homes are situated near adoption agencies, but until Marlys’s New Horizons had opened its doors just miles from their home in 1987, the closest adoption agency was more than two hours away in the Twin Cities. New Horizons was a Christian adoption agency, no less, which was a dream come true.

  It had taken a while for things to all fall into place. Years earlier, Lois had met her son at his foster home, and several months later she and her husband, Chuck, had adopted him. Lois was a nurse, but the minute she set foot in that foster home, she knew that she not only discovered her dream job but also her divine calling. However, her daughter was still young, and New Horizons wouldn’t open its office near their home for another thirteen years.

  Still, the seed had been planted.

  Eight years later, when she had quit nursing and was looking for something else to do, she finally contacted Marlys, and she and Chuck opened their doors. Chuck’s first priority was tending their farm—growing corn and soybeans and raising beef cattle—but he adored those babies and always helped Lois with them after coming in from the fields. He also believed that God meant for them to be foster parents and was devoted to doing his part.

  Devout Christians and members of the Gideon’s, their foster home was their ministry, and caring for the babies was an expression of their love for Jesus. It was a way to serve God and do His work. But when a birth mother changed her mind about placing her baby for adoption, they felt the adoptive parent’s deep disappointment, as if it were their own.

  Their greatest joy, their moment of grace, was when a baby finally went home with its adoptive parents. It meant that their mission with that baby was complete.

  That’s what fed them. Their true pay wasn’t the meager paycheck but was seeing that each baby went to where it truly belonged. It was also a chance to serve God and to form friendships with wonderful people, like Sandy and Stephane, whom they otherwise would never have met.

  Pictures of the babies in beautiful gold frames, as well as nativity sets and figurines representing adoption, were placed all over the house. Love was everywhere. The babies, themselves, must surely have known that they were on hallowed ground. Lois took the babies on outings and even to doctor’s appointments. She brought her babies everywhere, including church, and always talked about what blessings they were and about the joy they brought to their new adoptive families.

  So when Sandy told her, while she was there visiting Celine, that she didn’t think that the adoption was going to work out, Lois was heartbroken.

  Lois watched it all unfold—Sandy and Stephane’s turmoil one day; the hurt in Jess’s eyes the next—taking on all of their pain as if it were her own. She had seen some tough situations over the years, but this was a killer. The day that Jess took Celine back was a sad, sad day at their farm. She kept reminding herself that God always had a plan, even when He had closed a door but not yet opened a window.

  Six weeks later, when Sandy and Stephane finally took Celine home, Lois rejoiced. However, several months after that, when Marlys called, asking if she could care for a five-month-old, Lois knew immediately that the baby was Celine. Sandy had already told her about Celine’s CMV diagnosis and the agonizing decision that she and Stephane were about to make.

  Lois embraced their decision—she respected their choice—even though thirty years earlier, she and Chuck had made the exact opposite choice. Their son, Mark, whom they adopted back then, had also been diagnosed with CMV and had become deaf.

  They’d heard about Mark in December of 1974. The adoption agency had written them a letter about Mark, explaining that he had CMV, and that his development was delayed. But they were still open to the possibility of adopting him, and then they met him. They could easily have said “no” and waited for a different child, but there was something about Mark. It felt so real to Lois—Mark being her son. She looked and looked at his picture while weighing her ability to care for him, along with what she felt in her heart.

  She had such feelings for him, yet such concerns. She imagined giving birth to him—knowing that, had that been the case, she would have loved and cared for him no question—hoping that it might help to sway her decision.

  It was a difficult three months. But the neurologist had said that Mark’s condition was improving, and as they pondered and prayed, nothing made them feel that raising him was beyond their capabilities. They finally decided to adopt him, believing that’s what God was leading them to do.

  They brought him home in March. It was extremely difficult. He couldn’t sit in his high chair without being tied in. He didn’t walk until he was two—and Lois had been told that he might never walk at all. She worried about these things and if he would have learning disabilities later on. However, she had no idea that he was losing his hearing. What finally tipped her off was Mark’s unresponsiveness when Chuck came into the house, because as soon as Mark saw Chuck, he aggressively moved toward him.

  Initially, he was diagnosed with auditory agnosia, a condition where a person can hear sounds but can’t process them. However, the School for the Deaf, where they had taken him for additional testing, recommended that they treat him as if he were deaf and teach him sign language, which they had to learn as well.

  * * *

  AFTER SANDY HAD finally stopped crying, Stephane and Marlys went over Celine’s medical information, and Sandy gave Lois all of Celine’s belongings, along with her baby calendar. When Sandy and Stephane left, Lois hugged Celine and then made her first entry on September 29 that said, “Celine came to live with foster parents Lois and Chuck.”

  Then she began signing to Celine.

  God, thank you for sending this child to me and not to someone else, she thought, a wave of recognition flooding over her that she had already raised a deaf child and now God had sent her Celine. Her gift to Celine, she realized, was signing to her—and at six months old, that baby desperately needed to be exposed to language!

  Over the following seven weeks, Lois’s life came full circle, as she relived her experiences with Mark through caring for Celine and applying the same skills she’d learned with him thirty yea
rs earlier—something she’d never dreamed she’d be doing. She gained new insight into Mark’s condition, which she had craved since he was a child. Mark also had low muscle tone from the CMV, and just as she had helped him to strengthen his muscles and to sit upright, she also helped Celine. She could tell that Celine was losing her hearing and wondered if Mark’s process had been similar.

  She signed and talked to Celine, even acted things out—knowing that, even if Celine couldn’t hear, she should still talk to her. That’s total communication. She even gave Celine a “name sign”—a special nickname in the Deaf Culture that people often give to someone. Instead of spelling out a name by hand, a name sign is a blend of the person’s name, usually the first letter, and their personality in some way. She learned about it at Mark’s school and had given one to all three of her children. Focusing on Celine’s aura and beauty, she gave her the name sign of “Pretty Girl.”

  To the people at church, however, Celine was a lot more than just a pretty girl; she was their social butterfly. At six months old, Celine was so much more vibrant and expressive than the week-old infants they were used to seeing with Lois. Her warm smiles and responsiveness drew them in, making them fall in love with her. They had seen her come and go and then come back again wearing hearing aids. However, knowing that Lois wouldn’t talk about it, they never even asked her what had happened.

  Sandy, too, wanted to know if Celine was all right and called Lois every now and then to find out. However, knowing Marlys’s rules of confidentiality, she never even once put Lois on the spot or made her feel uncomfortable, and Lois respected her for that. She just let Sandy know that Celine was fine and that was it. She didn’t even let her know when Celine had found a new family.

  PART III

  The Roads Converge

  Chapter Nine