Seth story part one

 So  yesterday I  told  you about   what it used to mean  in America  to have a disability, and thus why we  should not use the  R word,  Well today  I   am  going to share with  you  a   story  of   a  Amazing  little  boy  named  Seth who used to live in similar situations, I am  happy to  report  that Seth has  been adopted into a loving family and is doing  quite well.  Seth's  mom  Laura   will  tell  us more.





I’m trying to think back to my life before Seth. Before adoption. Before cerebral palsy. It’s only been four months, but I have a hard time remembering what life was like. How did I fill my day, my life, my family, without this little boy? I know some things were easier, like getting into and out of a store quickly. But some things were harder, like getting my children to understand what a true “need” is, versus what a “want” is. Now that my children have met Seth, they understand how truly unimportant the newest phone is, or another pair of jeans.


Before Seth, I had very limited experience with disabilities. I knew next to nothing about CP. I didn’t go into adoption to find a child with CP. In fact, I didn’t really mean to adopt at all, and certainly not a child with CP. Seth and CP found us. I saw him while scrolling through a blog post that a friend of mine had written. When I saw his face, my heart dropped. He was mine. I knew it as well as if I’d given birth to him. He belonged to our family, and as crazy as it seemed, we had to go get him. It was only after that initial realization that I noticed he had CP and couldn’t walk. But he was a child. A child who needed a home. We had a home. We had what he most needed. Once your heart commits, the rest doesn’t matter.

Seth's family.   As  you can see  he is around love. This  is what EVERY child needs 

We set aside a night to talk to our kids. We have six biological children, ranging in age from 18 years down to 3 years. We called them all together and showed them Seth’s picture. We explained about CP, that he lives in an orphanage in Ukraine and we think we need to adopt him and bring him to our home. We had a variety of responses. One of our daughters, my most tender hearted, cried for him. Another daughter completely supported us but was very concerned about the length of time we’d be gone… seven weeks. We told them they can share concerns openly or pull us aside privately, but that we wanted to know how they felt. We have sweet children. They all agreed that this little boy deserved a life and needed our family.


Four short months later, we were flying across the world to meet our little boy, embarking on the biggest adventure of our lives. We knew Seth had been transferred to an institution three months previously, and we knew that likely did not bode well for him. Children with disabilities, and especially those who cannot walk, do not fare well in Eastern Europe orphanages. We knew Seth had likely been confined since his transfer. We were anxious, nervous and worried about his condition and what we’d find. We had pictures of him from right before his transfer. We knew what we should have seen when we walked in. The reality was far different. The reality took us back. Shocked us.

 Seth in the institution 

We learned that Seth had been confined to a wheelchair with the brakes locked, for three and a half months. He was in a room with three others, all in wheelchairs. No toys, no books, no conversation. All four boys were non verbal. Other than the sounds of moans, groans, and teeth grinding, it was a silent room. The sound of boys literally losing their minds. Our Seth had regressed fast. In fact, we didn’t even recognize him. The director had to point him out for us. He did not even resemble the boy in our pictures. He was slumped over in his wheelchair, not making sounds,not making eye contact, completely disconnected from his surroundings. Our minds raced with fear. This is not what we expected. He was like an infant. In that moment, we had to make the biggest decision of our lives. Our facilitator looked at us and asked us if we wanted to proceed with the adoption. Quiet. Racing heart. Brain numbing worry. Jeremy and I looked at Seth. A traumatized child. A hurting child. A child with some very serious problems. We looked at each other. And nodded. Yes. Seth was ours. Have faith.  


Stick around for part  two  of Seth story. Also Visit  Laura's  blog  

 Seth on the  move.      He  looks  much more  happier than   the pic above