March 28-April 3, 1997, Vol III, Issue 3

Some Visitors Take More Home Than Souvenirs

In 1996 more than 3,500 Americans adopted Chinese children. Eighty to 90 percent of all foreign adopters are Americans, but other Westerners are following suit. A new kind of family is appearing on the streets of Beijing - and of the world.

by Carrie Kirby
Photos by David Qian

When Karen Chin, a former foreign expert and business teacher, walks with her two daughters in their east Beijing neighborhood, she turns heads.

"Are these your children?" people ask, eying the American's blond hair and blue eyes. "But they don't look like you. They look Chinese."

"They are Chinese," Karen tells them. To the perplexed looks that follow, she sometimes answers, "Their father is Chinese." Which is partly true. Their father, Ian, from Springfield, Illinois, is the son of immigrants from Hong Kong.

When Karen is feeling devilish, she has a different explanation: "I'm their ayi."

"Then they really wonder," Karen laughs. "Who are they, the grandchildren of a high official?"

AnnaClaire (³Â°²ÄÈ), nearly 3, and Lillian (³ÂÀö°²), 2, are learning to speak Mandarin and English, and their adoptive parents are determined that they will have an understanding - and the benefits of - both cultures.

"We want them to be fluent in English and Chinese," Ian says. This means keeping the family here for a few more years, a prospect that is not at all daunting to Karen, now a full-time mother. Raising kids in China has its advantages.

"I love having an ayi," she acknowledges. "It makes life with the kids so much more fun."

When the Chins adopted in 1994 and 1995, parents were permitted to use the same paperwork to adopt a second child within one year of the first adoption. They adopted AnnaClaire in September, at 7 months old, and Lillian in June of the next year, when she was 4 months old.

Avoiding the paper chase was a powerful incentive to adopt Lillian, perhaps sooner than they would have under other circumstances. Recalling the first few months with two babies in their apartment, Karen says, "It was a nightmare."

That's hard to believe now, as the two sisters collaborate to doctor a large teddy bear on the living room floor. AnnaClaire listens to the ailing teddy's heart with a plastic stethoscope, then Lillian spoon-feeds it invisible medicine.

It was only Lillian, who had lived in a Chinese foster home, who gave them any trouble. "I'll tell you, if you're a little bit nervous about newborns, get a baby from an orphanage," Karen says, recalling AnnaClaire's quiet infanthood. "They're on a perfect schedule. They sleep straight through the night. They only get fed every four hours. If you stick to that orphanage schedule, you don't even know you have a baby in the house."

Changing Rules

The incentive to adopt a second child within 12 months no longer exists in China, nor do the miraculous four-month adoptions that some parents experienced in the past. The changes are due in part to a huge increase in the volume of adoption applications - in 1988 only 12 Chinese babies were adopted by Americans and many other countries processed no adoptions from the PRC - as well as China's effort to standardize the process.

This is why the Chins have this advice for anyone considering adoption here: Once you're sure you're ready to be a parent, "Don't think too long, because it's not always going to be this accessible. Just do it."

All foreign adoptions are now being handled by the China Center for Adoption Affairs, under the Ministry of Civil Affairs; in the past they were handled independently by several ministries. Due to China's changing economic and legal structure, no one's exactly sure what the future of foreign adoptions in China will be. Or indeed, what the present is. Couples, or single people (both are eligible), who start the process now can expect it to take between a year and 18 months.

The hope is that once reorganization is complete, adoptions will be processed more quickly, but there are no guarantees. And if demand in the West for Chinese adoptees continues to grow as it has been, that could prevent the time it takes to adopt a baby from shortening.

One of the reasons China's adoption program is popular is because, unlike other parts of the world, there is little concern here about baby stealing or other illegal activities.

"This program is the fastest, most affordable, most transparent in the world right now," says a U.S. Embassy consul, who believes the reorganization will ultimately support those qualities.

China's waiting time is short compared to the wait adopters from some Western countries face at home, where waiting lists for healthy babies can be years long.

A certain amount of waiting, and a reasonable number of fees, can be viewed as favorable. A psychologist who has worked with adopting families points out that, just like giving birth to a child, adopting is a lifetime commitment. "It's not like buying a puppy," she says. Those about to make such a commitment need time to evaluate their own physical and psychological health.

The best way to get through the paperwork trouble-free is to follow the official procedure and keep good relationships with everyone you come into contact with. Fighting the system can only cause problems, if not for you then for those who try to adopt later. The government is intent on keeping a low profile on international adoption - most agencies have been asked not to grant interviews on the subject - so drawing attention to yourself, or spreading negative publicity of any kind, could jeopardize the existence of international adoption in China.

There are no shortcuts in the system, but like anywhere in the world, those willing to adopt an older child will find the process swifter.

Linda R., an American living in southern China with her husband and children, is waiting for her adoption to come through. Like the Chins and many other expatriates who adopt, Linda's story began when she visited a Chinese orphanage to volunteer. Knowing that selecting a child to adopt is officially not allowed, she nevertheless knew that she had met her match when she saw Baby Mark, one of four boys in her local welfare institute who had cleft palate and harelip. Since the family already has children (three daughters), they may only adopt a special-needs child. Although there is no official definition of "special needs" now in China, the term has traditionally included kids with cleft palate and other correctable conditions. And, in a country where most of the children up for adoption are girls, the chance to add a boy to the family was unexpected good fortune.

Linda knows several other Westerners who have adopted children of their choice without too much trouble. While the current overhaul of the adoption process means nothing is for certain, Linda still believes her adoption will come off without a problem.

In the meantime, Linda spends an hour a week with the 14-month-old baby, helping him stand and move around, and singing him songs. This is much like the volunteer work she does with the other children at the orphanage, but Mark gets more of her time. The result has been significant mental progress and lots of smiles.

When she first saw him last summer, Linda remembers, "He never smiled. He wouldn't look you in the eye. I thought, Maybe this child is retarded. But it was just the matter of a little attention."

Linda's family will continue to live in China for awhile after Mark's adoption, then move back to the United States.

"At the orphanage, they really would prefer the children to stay with Chinese families," she says, but hastens to add that the orphanage staff is never unhappy to see children placed in any home.

"So Lucky!"

"The locals are very interested in it," Linda remarks. "They say 'so lucky'" when they see orphans in the arms of loving parents.

The Chins recall that when they picked up AnnaClaire from her welfare institute, the ayis who had cared for her cried as they waved good-bye.

Ian says, "They were crying because they thought they would never see her again. And they were crying because they were very happy for her. She was getting parents and a home."

Karen interjects, "I think they were just full of hope for her - "

" - because there was no future for her in the orphanage," Ian concludes.

That AnnaClaire would stay in China for a time after her adoption was a consolation to the staff, the Chins believe.

"I think they liked it very much, because they know she will be more in touch with the culture," says Karen.

In an essay titled "Ethics in International Adoption," Susan Soon-Keum Cox, of the American adoption agency Holt International Children's Services, writes: "Assumptions that a poor child in a developing country is better off in a family in the U.S. are arrogant and unacceptable. Rather, it is the birthright of every child to have a family."

While the Chins have never encountered criticism from Chinese people about their mixed family, they hear the same question time and time again: "Why would you want to adopt a Chinese baby? Why not have your own?"

This may reflect a difference in attitude between East and West on the subject of adoption. The Chinese characters for "adopt" - shouyang ÊÕÑø - mean to take in and raise, a turn of phrase that implies an informal agreement, perhaps among members of the extended family. In imperial China it was common practice for a family to adopt a son to continue the family name.

As expatriate adopters, the Chins are not unusual. One American professional put it this way: "When you live here, you get a heart for the people. If adoption is a thing you want to do, it seems like a natural decision [to adopt a Chinese child]."

Whether they adopt from within China or outside, new parents have to personally go to the provincial orphanage to pick up their baby, then take the child to their embassy for a visa before leaving China. This is where parents who adopt from outside China have a disadvantage: They haven't had the opportunity to soak up Chinese culture and come to understand how the system works here, so the trip can be fraught with cultural misunderstanding.

"Most parents are terrified something will go wrong and they won't be able to take the baby home," one adoption worker observes.

Some things about Chinese baby care don't gel with Dr. Spock-style Western parenting, and institution life can't mimic family life. A newly adopted child may be sleeping alone for the first time; in orphanages crib sharing is common, and if the child was in a Chinese foster home, it may have slept in a bed with the adults in the family.

But the differences are mostly irrelevant, according to American adoptive parent Edward Hume. "Kids are kids," he says. "Love them, feed them, shelter them and watch them grow."

China's Wealth of Children

China has the world's largest pool of healthy baby girls for adoption, and the word is getting around. Organizations for parents with kids from China are multiplying in the West, many of them with a presence on the Internet. Hume maintains Chinadopt, a World Wide Web page chronicling his and his wife Susan Ferrara's China experience, which started when their 6-year-old daughter demanded, "How many times do I have to tell you guys I want a sister?"

Hume, a lawyer and psychiatrist, decided that adopting in the United States would be out of the question, as he explains candidly on his page: "Private adoption? Unless you know someone, you end up going to a baby broker who charges so much that the whole thing smacks of baby selling to me."

Another problem is the American legal system. Hume believes that current child custody law treats children as property, and instead of considering the best interests of the child, the courts decide who a child's rightful owner is.

"Now, biological forebears have 'rights' to come and take away an adopted child. I shiver at the prospect," Hume concludes.

Biological parents changing their minds and reclaiming their children is a scenario that just doesn't come up in China. Abandoned children are held in orphanages for months while police search for their parents. Hume cites a common reason why Americans adopt outside their culture: Chinese babies up for adoption are rarely victims of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome or drug abuse by their parents. In China the children - usually girls - are given up for economic reasons, often by parents who cannot afford not to have a son.

ADOPTION PROCEDURE

Who qualifies

Both single people and married couples may adopt. Applicants under the age of 35, or those who already have children, may only adopt an "orphaned" child, who, under Chinese law, is a child who has no living parent, or a child with a physical or mental handicap. However, the government is in the process of defining what conditions count as handicaps, putting the referral of children who might be considered handicapped on hold for the present.

Adopters who are 35 and older and do not already have children may also adopt abandoned children, who make up the vast majority of the children in orphanages here.

Getting Started

Apply to your country's embassy in China or to a certified adoption agency in your home country. If you have lived in China for a year or more, you may choose whether to hire an agency from your home country or apply directly to the China Center for Adoption Affairs (CCAA) through your embassy. However, an American consul warns that the U.S. Embassy is not equipped to offer the same full range of services available at an agency, so hiring an agency is the preferable method.

The Agency

If you hire an agency, it will walk you through the remaining steps. You must gather a number of documents about yourself: birth certificate, certificate of marital status, profession, income, property, health, good conduct (from your local police), approval from your own country to adopt, and a family situation report, which a certified professional must make after visiting your home and finding it a suitable environment for a child. You must arrange for immigration papers to your home country for your child. All these documents must be notarized and authenticated, or "chopped," by your own and the Chinese governments. Then submit them to the CCAA.

Processing

The CCAA will have your documents processed and translated, for a fee of US$500, then match you with a child from a welfare institute somewhere in China. This takes about eight months.

Picking Up Your Child

The CCAA sends you a picture of a child whom you must accept or decline to adopt. After an additional one to two-and-a-half months, final approval is issued and the parents can come to China to get the child. The parents make a "donation" to the welfare institute of about US$3,000, then get their child a Chinese passport and take her to their home country's embassy for immigration. Parents usually spend about two weeks in China.

Total cost:
US$12,000 - $20,000.

Bringing Home Baby and Writing About It
	American novelist Tama Janowitz adopted her daughter, Willow, last year from Hefei, in Anhui province. Janowitz's latest book, By the Shores of Gitchee Gumee, reflects through fiction the joys of parenting. Gitchee Gumee's heroine has five children and lives in a tiny trailer home. Janowitz is starting with just one child, but, she says, "I lived with my husband and two dogs in a one-bedroom apartment and I never thought anybody would let us adopt a baby in such a small space." The writer chronicled her trip from home in New York City to China for Vogue magazine last October. She named the baby Willow, she wrote, because it looked so chubby and short in the photo she received. "With a name like Willow, this will have to change," she reasoned. It turned out that, although Willow was in good health, orphanage life had not given her the opportunity to get much exercise. At 9 months, Willow could not hold up her head or turn over. Five months later, the group of New Yorkers who made the adoption trip with Janowitz held a reunion. Like Willow, their babies were making up for lost time, crawling all over the place, standing and taking steps. Why China? Janowitz had never been here before she came to pick up Willow. She explains: "My heart immediately went out to the babies from China who needed homes. They were all girls, and all over the world women are second-rate citizens." After Janowitz and Hunt applied to an adoption agency, they waited four months for an interview because "so many people were interested [in adopting Chinese babies]." Then came the scavenger hunt.		"They [the agency] provide a list of what appears to be one million papers to acquire - like a birth certificate. No big deal, yes? Only this birth certificate - one item, as I say, on a list of hundreds - has to be obtained with original signature. Then it has to be sent back to the original state/country and be stamped by the 1) city 2) county 3) state 4) country. Each costs a different amount - some places only take cash, others only accept money order, others only want checks, etc." It took them nine months to get the paperwork together. Then they received the photograph of a 2-month-old baby "with a surly expression." This would be their child, they were told, although the photo was an old one and the baby was already 7 months old. When Janowitz finally held her baby in her arms, local Chinese women went out of their way to offer her, a first-time mom, advice. She remembers, "Many times women - like Jewish grandmothers - came over to lecture us severely in Chinese to dress the baby more warmly." This was in the heat of an Anhui summer. "Of course just as I was getting used to this, another would come over and try to undress the baby, saying it was overdressed." Although Willow is growing up outside of China, she has a Chinese ayi to make sure she learns Mandarin. "I'm sure someday she'll like to visit China," Janowitz says. She just hopes the kid will take Mom along.