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 | A Circle of Life: An Unexpected Adoption Journey
by Deborah McLaren |
My husband Rob and I were in Yellowstone National Park on our honeymoon. We had chosen to visit the park because we both loved nature, but also because I had been conceived there one summer long ago when my college-aged parents worked in the cafeteria and camera shop. Rob’s father had grown up in the Rockies and loved the mountains. We both felt a strong connection to this special place. Having spent three days celebrating our wedding in Minnesota, we were finally alone under the blue skies of Wyoming’s early summer. The air was just cool enough for us to wear jackets as we walked along a stream. I was 38 and Rob 45. In the middle of our life cycles — between birth and death — we found each other on the road between. We knew we had been given an unexpected blessing and opportunity to bring life and beauty into our lives — marriage and, we hoped, a new family.
Rob had been through many difficulties in his life and as a result considered himself an atheist. I accepted his beliefs but had strong spiritual values based on the interdependence and interconnection of all life. There is a spiritual dimension to the earth, in addition to the physical laws described by science. It is God’s life force, or creative energy, infused into every element of creation. I could feel it standing beside the stream. I lit some sage and let the smoke blow over me, cleansing me. Burning sage sends a bittersweet smell into the air, and the wind carried it high into the mountains. Sage was known in ancient times as a health giver. The name “salvia” means “health” or “salvation” in Latin. The smoke is said to be pleasing to good spirits. I said a prayer, thanking God for our marriage and for the opportunity to be in such a beautiful place. Our spontaneous ceremony honored the land we were visiting and helped us remember our loved ones, our ancestors.
The day also happened to be the anniversary of Rob’s father’s death, and he suddenly felt his father’s presence. He stood up and took the sage. As he spoke his father’s name aloud, Rob was overwhelmed by the sense that his father was asking him to forgive the person who was responsible for his death 15 years before. Although Rob resisted, he continued to feel that presence and message. Later Rob told me that experience helped open up his heart and try to find a way to forgive. We also prayed that day for a child.
Rob had grown up in India. His parents had met, married and raised all four of their children in a village in southern Maharasthra. After a graduating from the Colorado School of Mines, his father, Bob, had been sent by the Presbyterian Church to run a vocational school. It was there he met a public health nurse, an energetic Scottish lass named Nancy with whom he fell in love. Together they had built a life on the dusty western Indian plains, working to build a much-needed hospital and medical services. They were both devoted to their children and to the thousands of other children they served. The poverty in India prevented many children from receiving health services and an education. Rob’s parents dedicated their lives to filling this void.
It was at that hospital in 1984 that Bob went in for a basic hernia operation. Dr. Anil Reddy, the son of Bob’s best friend, Thomas Reddy, was the co-director of the hospital and senior anesthesiologist. Throughout the years the families had become close, and there was a lot of love and trust between them. The day of the operation started off badly. Anil was fighting with a surgeon about the start time and had purposely come in a half an hour late. While Nancy sat outside praying, knowing it was a simple surgery, and Bob would soon recover, the two men were hostile in the operating room. As a result, Anil intubated Bob incorrectly. Instead of placing the oxygen tube into his lungs, he placed it in his esophagus. Within minutes Bob was dead on the table, at the hands of his best friend’s son.
In India, once a death occurs the person must be cremated or buried within a day. Since Rob and his siblings were living outside of India by then, they were not even aware their father had died until after he was buried. Rob’s brother and sister flew to India within days to be with Nancy, who was still in shock, but it took Rob two weeks before he could get there. Upon his arrival, the other co-director of the hospital asked Rob to type up the hospital’s investigative report into his own father’s death. The internal political implications were such that the doctor could not trust the hospital clerks to type it correctly. The death had created major polarization within the hospital with one doctor siding with Anil. Thomas Reddy, Anil’s father, didn’t speak to his son for years afterward.
Rob’s anger grew as he wrote the report and learned the facts of his father’s death. He wanted to sue the hospital, the church that sponsored the hospital, Anil, everyone. He lost his faith in justice, deepening his atheistic beliefs. Bob had not lived to meet any of his grandchildren as most were born after his death. An important part of the family had been taken unfairly and untimely. In India, there was little one could do. Anil continued to practice as the hospital’s anesthesiologist but lost his position as co-director.
After our honeymoon in the Rockies, I headed to Asia for a two-month consulting contract with the United Nations. Rob and I planned to meet in India at the end of the summer for one month and travel to his childhood home. During our visit to Rob’s hometown in Maharasthra, we were unexpectedly invited to Anil’s house.
We sat in the dusty house under the banyan trees and drank hot tea. The afternoon was still and suffocating. Anil was late and, while polite, detached. The visit felt structured and orchestrated — an uneasy step to find peace. Rob, however, was able to further let a bit of his anger go. He recalled the presence of his father and the strong message to forgive, but he was still not ready to completely forgive this man who he felt had gotten away with murder.
We returned to Minnesota and started our family life. Rob’s 13-year-old daughter, Kelly, lived with us half time, and we longed for another child. A couple of years went by, and we decided the time was finally right to bring another child into our lives. We started an adoption and were right away determined to adopt from India. With our strong love and attachment to India, we felt we could keep a cultural connection for our child.
As we filled out paperwork and spent months waiting, we dreamed of a little girl who would become part of our family. We understood that most children from India were girls, due to social stigmas.
The day we finally got the call, we rushed to our social worker’s office. She pulled out a photo of a sleeping child with long, dark eyelashes. “It’s a boy,” she said. There is no way to adequately explain your emotions the minute you first see your child — whether he or she is in the doctor’s hands at the hospital or in a photo held up by your social worker. Rob and I clasped hands as she talked about the child. “This is Anil,” she said, “he has a hernia.” The words took my breath away.
It was apparent the circle of life was at work, and we had come full circle. It was time to believe there is purpose for each life, and when it’s over, it’s not just over, because you’re part of a continuum. It means our lives are not in vain; there is purpose to them. We knew it wasn’t just a coincidence; the circle was too complete. With the birth and adoption of our son, our family continues to move forward while deeply connected to our past. We have learned lessons of love, life, forgiveness and continuum that are out of our control.
In Marathi, the word “adopt” means “God’s gift.” We do not know what the future will bring, but our little Anil has brought great joy and happiness to our family. He is truly God’s gift — an unexpected blessing and opportunity to bring life and beauty into our lives, marriage and family.
Deborah McLaren lives in St. Paul, Minn. She has worked on international development and environmental issues for more than a decade. Since adopting her son Anil from India, she has become active in the adoption community. She is currently co-chair of Parents of Indian Children, a non-profit group of families in Minnesota and recently published “A Guide to Everything Indian in Minnesota” for adoptive families. She is also an advocate for building strong relationships between Minnesota adoptive families and the Minnesota Indian community.
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