The Price of Adopting a
Child with FAS
Response from Dianne Yee to a mother
of a teen and infant who is considering adoption of a 2 year old child with FAS
and asked for feedback from other adoptive parents:
You can count on the fact that raising a child with FAS will change your life in ways that you cannot imagine. For many people, the enormous responsibility is overwhelming and some families break apart. Others find strengths within themselves they never knew they had. Either way, you really cannot anticipate the road ahead.
No one can speak for the future of medicine and the possibility of perhaps stem cell research or some other kind of research that may be able to heal some of the brain damage of prenatal alcohol exposure, but barring that kind of medical advancement, there will never, ever be a time when your FAS child will not consume inordinate amounts of your mental, emotional, and physical energy. The brain damage is organic and, as far as we know today, irreversible.
I would vote no to adopting this little girl for one reason only -- even if you could manage the cataclysm that loving and caring for an FAS child will bring to your life
-- and that reason is that you have a 7-month-old son whose life will be overshadowed by the constant care required and by the emotional stress that goes with raising a child with FAS.
If you only had your 15-year-old son, I think you would have a great chance of staying intact while investing in a lifelong commitment to an FAS child. But taking on that responsibility within a family that already has a 7-month-old baby is like mortgaging your house to the hilt, taking out a massive loan from the Mob, and quitting your job all at the same time.
I am the adoptive mother of a 27-year-old son who has FAS. He is the second of my four children. The other kids are bio-kids and do not have FAS. My son was diagnosed with FAS at the age of 18. Until he was 12 1/2-years-old, we had no idea that there was anything wrong with him. When the hormones hit, this good little student with lots of nice friends, began failing everything in school, withdrawing from all his friends, drinking, and cutting his hands and arms with knives.
My third child was born when my older son was 16 months old, my fourth child came along when my older son was 4-years-old. As I said earlier though, at that early age there was no hint of what was to come, so their early years were pretty normal.
But from the time the symptoms began to manifest until today has been a loooooooooooooong road. I could never have imagined the price we would all pay for staying together. My son who has FAS has shown tremendous courage in just hanging on and believing in the next day. My other children bear a lot of scars, especially the younger two...but they have grown into incredible young men, with a lot of heart, understanding, and compassion.
We all, including my son with FAS, went through times so terrible that I am still surprised we made it. There were years where I literally told my feet to move when I stood up in the morning, and when I'd curl up on the floor and cry all night. My son got into legal trouble and into trouble with alcohol and drugs. I developed a mantra to help me survive and to help me help my son. It was: "It's not his fault. I will never let him go."
Today, he lives at home, has a full-time job, and he is a great person. But will I ever take it for granted that he will be able to function independently? Will I ever, so long as I live, stop trying to help structure and protect him? No. Never.
I love my son dearly, by the way. I want you to know that I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world. But the price I paid for having the privilege of being his mother was very, very high. Anyone who would tell you differently about raising a child with FAS is either lying or they haven't done it.
If you, your husband, and older son were the only ones who would be paying the price, I'd strongly encourage you to go for it, but not with an infant whose life will be so affected.
Blessings and best of luck to you in whatever decision you make.
Dianne