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I was about to leave the office when the telephone rang. A soft voice asked to speak to someone about placing her baby for adoption. I sat down. "He’s kinda small", I heard her say, "but they say he’s real healthy." I went to the hospital and found the birth mom of a tiny baby boy, 3 lbs. at birth. As I interviewed the birth mother I became overwhelmed. Were there families who would consider this tiny angel? The birth mother answered my questions frankly. The problems were huge. She had not only occasionally consumed alcohol during her pregnancy but had brought on labour at 36 weeks by trying cocaine. I fumbled through my briefcase but could not find the right papers, so excused myself to return to the car for the correct forms. Once in the parking lot, I took a deep breath. Finding a family for this little boy was way above me. I asked God to take over the challenge and confidently returned to see the little one for myself.

Adam as a babyAs I entered the Special Care Nursery I recognized a government Social Worker. She told me she had already completed the documents to move Adam into foster care. There were many unknowns. Would he have FAE? Would he be affected by the cocaine? Time in foster care would allow a family adopting him as a preschooler to have proper assessments and to know what they were getting into. I knew if the foster home was good; he would be loved, but what if he ended up in several foster homes? Would we ever know if his problems were the alcohol or the lack of attachment to a loving family?

Then I saw Adam. He was beautiful. An olive skinned Métis angel, tinier than most dolls with masses of black hair. The nurses were clearly fond of him. They said things like isn’t he good looking?; he’s going to capture a lot of hearts when he grows up; he seems really bright; and he doesn’t appear to have any fetal alcohol affect, look at his lips and his ears. One nurse could see the scepticism in my eyes and told me "we see alcohol and drug babies all the time and he doesn’t have any of the characteristics, he seems to be easy going and never fusses." As I craned my neck to look closer I said his name and he opened his eyes and looked right at me. "I think the hand of God has been protecting him," she told me. I hoped she was right, but who was likely to believe that this enchanting little boy was the child they had been waiting for.

The Social Worker asked whether if I had a family, and I said with confidence I thought I did. "Well, you have a day and a half. He needs to be discharged on Saturday," she informed me.

I finished the Social and Family History, writing as accurately as I could every word the birth mother told me. Families would want to know the whole story if they were going to consider this tiny Métis boy.

Another battle was going on at home, the Stanley Cup finals. I called between periods so not to interfere with peoples’ watching. Three families agreed to accept a fax of the information, and one family said yes immediately.

The following morning, armed with information on two families (one having Métis heritage), I returned to the hospital. God clearly had a plan because the birth mother chose the couple who said 'yes’ so quickly. By 11 am, I had telephoned them and they were on their way to the hospital. It was a long drive, but they would be there by 5pm.

What happened next is the magic of adoptions. The birth mother liked them right away, and they melted when they saw Adam. The joy in their eyes and their tears as his tiny body snuggled into theirs was proof enough. It was love at first sight. They were instantly family. There was no scepticism in their eyes as their had been in mine. They had faith that no matter what the future would bring, this was the child God wanted them to parent.

They stayed most of the evening, held him, and received instructions from the nurses on how to handle this healthy but tiny baby. The following morning he weighed in at 3lbs 15 oz. He was introduced to his big sister, and she was enthralled with him. He was ceremoniously dressed and wrapped and photographed before being taken to say goodbye to his birth mother. With a kiss, a prayer, and a tear, he was on his way home with his new family. He was loved and he felt it. Saturday night I watched much of the Stanley Cup finals on television but somehow it felt like a 'game’. I could not get into it. My heart was back in the hospital with the victory God had pulled off protecting a tiny baby from FAS, and finding a family who would nurture him, protect him, and love him totally without educational assessments or guarantees of what the future would hold. I thanked God for Adam’s family, and for others like them that are willing to let go and let God put their family together. I thanked Him for those who are willing to take risks (sometimes known, often unknown) because they want to be parents . I had given my worry, my overwhelmed feelings to God and he had taken charge. He created this family. Adoptive parents can choose whether they will be considered for a child, but ultimately all the choices are God’s.