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Taking a chance on love | page 1, 2, 3, 4
We proposed that Emily and Nigel join us for dinner at a restaurant close to their home. This was a major trauma for Nigel, who rarely set foot outside the house and as soon as he did, he was taunted by local boys for being some kind of freak. At this point, the man had not washed, shaved or cut his hair for a year. At the restaurant he was jittery, afraid of the other people seated around us, disturbed by the music. Emily tried to comfort him. I watched Louise attempt to spit the words out at various points during dinner. She kept bringing the conversation around to James and his future, then copping out. By the time coffees were being served, I knew she was in trouble. She disappeared into the washroom. I followed her in, and found her nervously repeating her question over and over again into the mirror. When she finally got it out, it was Nigel who leapt on it first. "What a wonderful idea," he shouted across the table to his wife. Emily smiled broadly, and I knew at that moment I was going to be a mother. It took six months for Louise and I to be vetted as adoptive parents by one of Britain's oldest adoption agencies. That was considered extraordinarily speedy by normal standards, but because it was an inter-family adoption its approval by the courts was all but certain. Surprisingly, given that this was the first-ever gay adoption organized by this agency, the issue of our sexual orientation didn't figure in it much. The social workers were clearly very open-minded but they did make a point of asking us not to make "a big deal" out of it -- which presumably meant that we shouldn't go to the press with our story -- as, being a Christian agency, it might affect their funding. (It was necessary, of course, for Louise to be listed as the single adoptive parent). One by one, as the vetting period went on, my doubts about the adoption began to fall away. My concerns about Emily's feelings were allayed by the fact that she had agreed we were the best possible option. I also armed myself with as many facts as I could about schizophrenia, about James' chances of becoming ill with it and about how we might cope if he does. I satisfied myself that growing up with gay parents wasn't a factor. It's a genetic illness and the current thinking is that, although there are many possible triggers for the onset of the illness, the reality is, if James is going to be schizophrenic, it's already written in the cards. All we can do is give him a loving home that will always be there for him, even -- perhaps I should say especially -- if he does become ill. In late October 1997, Louise and I received the call that we could come to Scotland to collect our son. It took three weeks to complete the transfer of care from James' foster parents to his new parents. We rented a small cottage outside the town in which he had spent his first year of life, visiting him for a little longer each day, taking on more and more of the responsibility. It was astounding how easy it all was. He was a mellow, adaptable little baby, and it didn't take long for him to fit right in with us and us with him. As soon as he appeared comfortable, we were allowed to bring him home. The goodbyes were hard. Emily had a final visit. Under the rules of this adoption, she would be permitted to see James under supervision for two hours once a year. Nigel would also be permitted to attend the annual visit, although he hadn't shown any interest in James as a baby or in seeing him again as a boy or a man. We would exchange photos and presents on birthdays and at Christmas, but aside from that there could be no other contact. All of this could be increased if Louise and I agreed to it, but we decided to wait to see how things worked out. Ultimately, it seems important that James himself decides how much contact he feels comfortable with. A few weeks ago we celebrated James' third birthday. I am happy to report that he is a healthy, handsome and absolutely normal boy in every way. Louise and I are both completely besotted with him. The adoption has gone even more smoothly than we could have dreamed possible. Nigel's condition has improved and, much to our surprise, he decided to participate in James' last annual visit. As soon as he entered the room and saw James, he broke down and wept. We all did. A wall had come tumbling down. James, unlike a lot of kids, will grow up knowing that there are at least four grown-ups to whom he means the world.
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About the writer Table Talk Sound off Related Salon stories Painting insanity black Why are there more black schizophrenics? Out of their minds Researchers are treating teenagers for
schizophrenia before they are diagnosed.
Some bioethicists think that's insane. The invisible parent While many courts won't recognize the rights of non-biological gay parents, one woman refused to let go of her child.
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