Finding Zoe

by Brandi Rarus

  When we arrived at New Horizons, Jess and her parents were already there visiting with Celine. We said hello briefly and then went into Marlys’s office to sign the adoption papers—where we agreed to send updates about Celine to Jess and BJ, through New Horizons, every year on her birthday.

  After we were finished, Tim and I joined Jess, her parents, and Celine in the other room. I think it had finally sunk in for Jess’s parents that Tim and I were deaf because Jess’s father asked us how we would know when Celine cried. We hadn’t brought an interpreter with us, so communication wasn’t the best. However, I reminded them that we had already taken care of three babies and that we had a baby-cry signaler that would flash whenever she cries. We had previously told them that our entire house was equipped with everything we needed—lights for the phone when it rang, a videophone, and captioning for the TV. I now added that some deaf people even have a flashing light for the doorbell and fire alarm but with three hearing kids and a dog, we didn’t need them.

  Then I gave Jess the letter I’d written her, which said the following:

  Jess,

  I have nothing but admiration for you. What you have been through these past several months makes me shudder. What a great amount of courage and strength you’ve shown to find the best home for your daughter. I know how angry and disappointed you must be with Sandy and Stephane, but their choice not to adopt Celine has led her to us.

  I promise you that Celine will have the best of everything. I thank you for trusting us with her—for giving me the chance to be her mother. You will always be the mother who gave her life, and when she is old enough I will tell her that she is blessed to have such an amazing birth mother as you! You will always be a part of her, and she a part of you.

  The best thing that you can do for her now is to go after your dreams. Finish your education—there is so much power in that. Be true to yourself. I will teach her to do the same. If you have the opportunity, take sign language classes. If you decide to pursue your masters in social work, check out Gallaudet University.

  I want nothing but the very best for you, Jess. You are a beautiful girl with a million-dollar smile that lights up the room—that’s priceless. Use everything you’ve got to make your mark on the world. Celine and I will be rooting for you.

  Brandi

  Jess didn’t read the letter but put it in her purse. Then we all talked a bit more, and finally she gave me a look that said, “It’s time,” and stood up and placed Celine in my arms. I immediately started crying.

  “Don’t cry,” Jess said.

  But I just couldn’t stop.

  Through my tears, I saw her and her parents walk out the door.

  I immediately turned to Marlys, asking her how Jess could leave without even shedding a tear, and she replied, “It’s her third time doing this, Brandi. Each time she has gotten stronger.”

  As I wiped away my tears, I started thinking about the gifts I’d given to Tim and the boys over the years—for birthdays, Christmas, or no reason at all—and the thought I’d put into making them meaningful. Here was a young woman, I realized, who didn’t even know me and who had had such painful experiences, yet she found it within herself to choose me—to place her daughter in my care—which was one of the greatest gifts of my entire life. To this day, I well up just thinking about it.

  That’s when I vowed to legally keep our daughter’s name, Celine Grace.

  Originally, I had wanted to change her name to Destiny Zoe—Destiny, for obvious reasons, and I liked the ring of Destiny Zoe. However, Jess didn’t want us to change her name, and in Minnesota, the birth mother has that right. I had figured that in six months, when the adoption became finalized, I might legally change it then.

  But watching Jess leave, I realized that honoring her wishes was a lot more important than changing our daughter’s name. Jess allowed us to legally add the name Zoe, which we did, making her name Celine Zoe Grace.

  But we just call her Zoe.

  After we left New Horizons, I placed Zoe in her new tan car seat and sat next to her for the three-hour ride home. When we arrived, my friend Kelly was waiting for us with the three boys—video camera in hand—and taped us as we came through the front door. It was around 8:00 PM. The boys were so excited; Blake and Chase had already met Zoe at Lois and Chuck’s farm, but Austin hadn’t come along. The moment he saw her he reached out for her and just kept saying, “She’s my Zoe.”

  By the time I finally put Zoe to bed that first night, it was already ten o’clock. She slept in the same room each of the boys had slept in as infants, only with pink crib sheets instead blue or green. At 2:00 AM she awoke, so I went into her bedroom and took her out of her crib, and we sat on the floor playing and doing her physical therapy exercises. Better get to work, I figured. Then, I gently put her to sleep and went back to bed. After that, she always slept straight through the night.

  SHE’S MY ZOE. AUSTIN AND ZOE.

  BLAKE AND CHASE HOLDING ZOE WHEN SHE ARRIVED HOME

  The following morning, Tim and I were sitting at the kitchen table, and I was holding Zoe. We were just chatting, and at one point he said, “I feel like you just gave birth to her,” and I thought, I told you so!

  I remembered his comment a few weeks later when taking Zoe to the audiologist for a follow-up appointment. At one point, the woman just looked at me and said, “Not many people would want to adopt a child like her.”

  I was in complete shock. I just couldn’t understand how she could say such a thing—or think it. I’d wanted Zoe so badly; no one wanted her more than me. I thought that what she said was rude, insensitive, and inappropriate, and I must have been feeling pretty spent from all the changes, because if anyone ever said that to me today, I would let them have it.

  But later that day, I realized that there was truth to what she had said because suddenly her comment became yet another confirmation that everything was meant to be. She had only reinforced for me that Zoe and I belonged together. I think that I was then able to see what she had said not as a judgment but as a statement of fact.

  Judging is so easy. After Sandy and Stephane had let the baby go, some of their friends had felt that what they had done was very wrong. Still others wondered what had taken them so long. I think they all missed the point, because in the divine order of things, there are no rights or wrongs. Judgments aren’t necessary. What was wrong for them was perfect for Tim and me. Their acting on their truths allowed for the unfolding of true harmony.

  ONE OF MY FAVORITE PICTURES OF ZOE

  It didn’t stop unfolding. The following March, after Zoe had been with us for four months and was just about a year old, Sandy wrote us a letter in response to a letter that I had written to them several months prior, thanking them for taking such good care of Zoe. They had given Tim and me permission to contact them via the adoption agency, and I so wanted them to know how grateful we were for all they had done for her. Her letter said the following:

  Brandi,

  I have wanted to write to you since we received your letter, but didn’t get it done, obviously. I want you to know that we are so pleased that you were able to adopt Zoe. We loved her with all our heart, but knew that in her best interest, we just couldn’t keep her. We knew nothing of the Deaf World, and knew that that was where she was headed. We truly couldn’t be more pleased with what Lois and Chuck have told us about your family.

  I can tell you that it was the hardest decision we’ve ever made, and the worst day of my life was the day when we took her back to Marlys. But we saw God start to work immediately after our decision was made.

  I have to say that it was a little shocking to find out that she’s here in Sioux Falls. But then that is where the best family for her is. After getting over the initial shock, I realized that your family could do more for her than we could. We have all the love in the world for her, but not the ability to sign or knowing much about being deaf. You can give her everything in that domain.

  We have no regrets
with our decision. We know it was of God. Sometimes I wonder why we had to go through all the pain, but there was a reason.

  Someday, I hope that you will let us see her again. We would never want to impose on your life with her, but I really love her, and miss her. Antoine and I still talk about her occasionally. He will say, “This is a toy that Celine would have loved.” He knows that her name is now Zoe, and asks where she is. I think he thinks about her but is over the missing part.

  I am not yet ready to see her. I know that our decision was right, but my heart still hurts a little. It is easier, knowing that she has a family like yours. Thank you for who you are, and for loving our Celine Grace, and now your Zoe.

  Sandy, Stephane, and Antoine, too

  The following May, Sandy was ready to see Zoe and came to visit us with Stephane, Chuck, and Lois. Tim and the boys were at the lake house that day, so it was just me and Zoe. When I found out that they lived just a couple miles from us, I was absolutely amazed. For so long, I had thought that we’d be traveling to the other side of the world to find our daughter; yet, there she was, right in our own backyard.

  I was so curious to meet them, as they me. Lois, God bless her, was our stand-in interpreter. Although Stephane had been at peace from the moment he had found out about our family and that we were deaf, I think that Sandy needed to actually see how well Zoe was doing—how she was running around, playing, and signing to me, to really be at peace. The most telling moment was when I took her upstairs to Zoe’s room and she saw the beautiful butterfly on the wall, just above Zoe’s crib. It was one of those 3-D ones, made out of yellow and purple fabric, with a touch of pink—just like the butterfly mobile she’d once purchased to hang above Zoe’s crib. Talk about a confirmation. Sandy took it as a sign that they really had made the right decision—that Zoe had flown to where she truly belonged.

  It’s ironic, but it wasn’t until years later, when I began writing this book, that I discovered that butterflies are deaf.

  “This thing called inspiration [is] rather like a butterfly . . . deaf and blind, but luminous.”

  —CAMILO JOSE CELA, 1989 NOBEL LAUREATE

  EPILOGUE

  INITIALLY, this book was supposed to be about Jess, BJ, and Sandy and Stephane, who had all so lovingly cared for Zoe before she came to Tim and me, and the struggles they went through in making their agonizing decisions to let her go. Although I didn’t yet know the details of their stories, part of me knew that each of them had made their difficult choice out of love for Zoe—for whom they believed she was then and would eventually become—and that it was what she deserved.

  Delving into their stories, I came to see how each of them had made their choice out of their desire to follow their own truths, and that by doing so, what they did also had to be right for Zoe. I believed all of that in my very soul. When I understood how innocently Zoe had rippled through each of their lives, shaping and defining their lives and each of them as individuals to better know who they really were, I was in awe of them, of her, of myself, and of the awesome mystery that brought Zoe and me together. I could better see how she has rippled through my own life and still does, changing me, inspiring me to grow, always making me a better person, as children often do.

  As I honored their decision-making processes—each completely different from the others—I saw the perfection in each of their individual stories as they unfolded, as well as in the bigger story of Zoe’s adoption. Everything had to happen exactly as it did, in divine time, for Zoe and me to be united.

  And such perfection! Could the trajectory of such events be anything else but proof that everything that happened was part of some larger divine plan and that our lives were all interconnected? I believed that what transpired was the highest triumph of the human spirit; it was like a tapestry whose splendor couldn’t exist without all those ugly little knots and loose ends hidden on the underside.

  I saw that love can take on many guises, I learned about the fruitlessness of assigning blame, and I realized that what may seem horrible up close is beautiful from a distance. I was reminded, once again, that life isn’t about being perfect or not making mistakes; it is, I think, partly about doing what you believe is right, no matter how difficult.

  I also realized that all those years I had struggled to accept that I was deaf and then went on to help other deaf people—especially deaf children—accept it for themselves, too, I hadn’t only been doing it for me but had also been doing it for Zoe.

  From the very moment I learned that Zoe existed, I knew that she and I were destined to be together. But after examining everyone’s stories and digging into my own, I finally understood why—and why I had yearned for a daughter for all those years. It was as if the effect had come before the cause: I needed a daughter to better show me who I was, while showing me why I had needed her all along. I realized that I didn’t need just a daughter—but a deaf daughter. I needed Zoe. I saw how all of my decisions and experiences—the schools I’d chosen to attend, friends I’d kept, boyfriends I’d left, and pageants I’d entered—had been grooming me to be Zoe’s mother, allowing Zoe to become the confident young girl she is today.

  The gifts I have received from Zoe being deaf truly began to dawn on me.

  At first, this revelation presented a huge problem. I had no desire to put myself or my life out there, or make my journey and deep inner struggle to accept myself as a deaf person an open book for the entire world to read. I’d spent the first third of my life denying that struggle and finally accepted the fact that I’d struggled and made peace with it. But sharing it in a book was something entirely different.

  Feeling very raw and naked, I labored to write these pages. I didn’t want to expose myself or my vulnerabilities (to the Deaf community, in particular). I was afraid that many people would read it and not like some of the things I had to say. I was afraid of upsetting or offending members of my community whom I may not even know—and, even more, the friends and colleagues I care about. And it would tear me up inside to upset my mother. However, as I trusted my process, I felt myself opening up to and claiming myself as a deaf person even more deeply and powerfully than I knew was possible. With that came a new level of self-acceptance, so I took a leap of faith that those who loved me would understand.

  In the end, I believe that healing happened not only for me but also for everyone else in our story—before a single word was even put down on the page. For example, after not seeing each other for five years, Jess and BJ, after being interviewed, met and reconciled their differences. Jess asked BJ why he had taken her to court, and he explained that he wanted to parent Celine and that it was the only way he felt that his voice would finally be heard, which Jess completely understood.

  Jess felt awful about how she had treated BJ all throughout her pregnancy and after Celine was born and for not better understanding his point of view. Yet, she also realized how young she had been and how desperately she needed her parent’s help. She was so grateful to her father and said that if it hadn’t been for his undying support, she’d probably be taking care of Celine today, and not have graduated college, married, and made such a fulfilling life for herself. Looking back, she treasured the tough times most of all.

  “Zoe taught me so much,” she said. “Everything was for her. If I had a decision to make, I stepped back and said, ‘OK, what’s the best scenario?’ Before, I just did what I wanted. She made me grow up and realize that life isn’t just about yourself, and that you need to make sacrifices when you really love somebody.”

  BJ discovered that he was a lot stronger having had something to fight for—his child—and also that he had the willpower to stick with something that he truly believed in. Before his experiences with Zoe, BJ had a hard time dedicating himself to one thing and just staying with it. But after fighting for Zoe and loving her enough to let her go, he discovered just how much he loved working in the construction field and found the willpower to stay committed. “Zoe helped me to find out who
I really am,” he said. “Wherever I go, people will know her story.”

  Sandy and Stephane had been so upset when they discovered that Jess hadn’t told them the whole truth about Celine’s hearing, and who could blame them? But during an interview for this book, Stephane acknowledged, “A seventeen-year-old-girl got scared and brushed it under the rug. We’ve all done that—broken something and then replaced it before anybody knows. I’m not judging. You never know what somebody might do in the same situation.”

  Sandy, too, had her own realizations. “God had chosen us to take care of Celine because I had the connections,” she said. “That was our purpose. We were her steppingstone.” Becoming all choked up she continued, “Celine was my butterfly—bound in a chrysalis and forming inside me. I protected her and gave her what she needed to grow. But I just couldn’t protect her any longer. I had to open my arms and let her go.”

  Thank goodness Sandy passed Zoe’s baby calendar on to Lois. That gem was ultimately passed down to me and was an important resource used in writing this book. Lois, while never once doubting her decision to adopt Mark, realized even more clearly how being with Celine had reaffirmed that decision, revealing a wondrous flow and order to everything that had happened in their lives.

  * * *

  IRONICALLY, it wasn’t until a few weeks after we had brought Zoe home—when a good friend of mine said how wonderful it was that she was deaf—that it actually hit me that I had a deaf daughter. Oh, I knew that Zoe was deaf, but for so long I’d been so obsessed with getting her and so afraid of losing her that her being deaf hadn’t really registered. Those first few weeks, I felt as if she had come to me with the world stacked against her. Ours was the fifth home in which she had lived in only eight short months—the fifth home—and even though it had all worked out perfectly, part of me felt hurt and angry that she had been rejected so many times. A fierce determination welled up inside me to prove to them—to prove to the world—that my daughter was going to be a lot more than just okay; she was going to take the world by storm.