“What a relief!” With hardly a pause, I asked, “What about her being there?”
“She held him, undressed him, and changed his diaper in the office. I didn’t want her to feel short-changed out of her social time with him,” he replied.
Ward had empathy for her that I couldn’t seem to muster. To me, she was the enemy.
“She answered some of the questions about him while the nurse was there,” he said. “She knew more about his history, but when it was about how he’s doing now, she started to answer and then kind of got quiet, so I stepped in.”
“How was Thorin?” I asked.
“He was friendly with her,” he said. “But, she demonstrated so little curiosity about how he’s getting on. I don’t know if it’s that she doesn’t want to acknowledge her lack of guardianship or that it doesn’t occur to her to ask. On the bright side, awkward silence is better than an awkward conversation.”
Thorin’s next blast from the past was his sister. Linda called and said Jade wanted to see him, so we made arrangements with Jade’s foster family to get them together. They had only seen each other once in the last year and a half. On the drive to her house, we explained to Thorin we were going to see Jade. Thorin’s face lit up. He hugged his chest.
Jade’s foster mother opened the door and ushered us in. Jade walked toward us, and I was struck by how small and unassuming she seemed. From what I knew of her, I thought she would be taller somehow or would look like Wonder Woman. Thorin was beaming. We briefly visited with her foster family before she left with us to go to lunch.
At first, Jade didn’t want to order anything, insisting she wasn’t hungry, but we convinced her to order a burger and fries. Thorin sat in a high chair next to Jade, who cut his grilled cheese sandwich into tiny pieces before she started on her lunch. He watched her intently, smiling.
“Do you both work?” she asked.
“We do,” said Ward.
Then a serious vetting session ensued: What did we do for work? How long had we had our jobs? What was our education? Why didn’t we have children? Why did we want to be parents? It was clear she wanted to know if her brother was being treated well. One thing she didn’t ask about was Down syndrome.
We must have passed the test because the conversation moved on to favorite movies and books. Then we all smelled “it.”
“He needs his diaper changed,” Jade giggled.
Ward grabbed Thorin and the diaper bag and headed to the restroom. This was my chance. I had to know how a child becomes heroic.
“Jade, how did you go to the police?”
I knew she didn’t understand the intent of my question when she answered, “I walked there.”
“You’re brave,” I told her.
“Yeah, I hear that a lot.”
After Ward and Thorin got back to the table, I switched topics, and we set up another date for the following week.
The toddler shower fell on the month anniversary of Thorin living with us. Over thirty people came, including Ward’s family from New Jersey and New York. We got everything on our list—which Johannah, who had been a parent for more than four years, had helped us create. My contribution to the registry was a request of Andy Warhol’s portrait of John Wayne to complete Thorin’s western-themed bedroom.
We also received two of the greatest inventions known to humanity: the Pack ‘n Play and the Diaper Genie. If you had asked me even a month before the shower to name the greatest products ever invented, neither one would have made the top 1,000. Of course, that was before I tried to take a shower while alone in the house with Thorin or held a poopy diaper and an entire pack’s worth of dirty baby wipes, wondering if I closed the gate at the top of the stairs as a half-naked kid crawled down the hall.
Whatever reservations people had about Thorin having Down syndrome were replaced with welcoming him to the fold. He was held and kissed by one and all while Ella and Evvy showed him off.
“Yeah, he knows how to sign and he can say, ‘What’s that?’ Go ahead, Thorin, show them,” said Ella about thirty times during the party. He obliged to squeals of delight and clapping.
Ward’s sister Carolyn brought her three children. The youngest, Benny, was fifteen months old, which made him seventeen months younger than Thorin. Benny was built like a linebacker for the Green Bay Packers. He was big for his age, but it was striking to see how tiny Thorin was next to Benny. Carolyn brought Benny’s hand-me-downs, but Thorin wouldn’t fit in any of the clothes for a couple of years.
That day, there was more than one sidebar conversation out of Thorin’s earshot about his status as our son. It was confusing to people, and explaining that was difficult.
“But, he is yours, right?” one friend asked.
“Not exactly,” I said. “He isn’t free for adoption yet. We’re waiting for a court date.”
“You’re going to leave it to fate then,” she said.
“No, not fate. He’s our son. We wanted him to move in rather than wait.”
“If it’s meant to be, it will be, right?” she said with a wink.
I wondered how she would feel if someone said that about her child.
“This is how we got him. He’s our son with a stipulation we’ve accepted.”
“I guess I don’t understand that,” she said, sounding angry.
“That’s the best I can do today.” Now I sounded angry, too.
That night sitting in the backyard, I shared my frustrations with Betty.
“People have such small ideas about parenthood,” Betty said. “She can’t see you feel the same way about Thorin as she does about her kid.”
The beginning of the next month was the kickoff for Linda’s and Karen’s home visits. Linda was easier to
