Sonny.
This is just part of the story of finding him.
The story is still being written.
And will be until he becomes ours.
And we become his.
But for now.
This is how the story to him began....
In June 2013 on a sunny afternoon, my man and I sat in the drive thru line at Jack in the Box.
Yes, a fast food drive thru.
I wish it was something more beautiful and inspiring.
Like a vision we had while watching the sunset at the beach.
Or hiking somewhere in the Columbia River Gorge.
But it's us.
So of course it all starts with fast food.
This was just two months after his cancer surgery.
And six months after bringing Noelle home.
I sat in the passenger seat looking out the window.
Afraid to make eye contact with him because I was about to ask him something crazy.
"What if I told you I think we are supposed to go back to China?"
He was silent.
And then I heard him put the car in park.
Right there.
In the drive thru.
I knew he was going to tell me in the nicest way.
Or maybe in the not so nicest way.
That I've lost my mind.
That he's just not on board.
But then he said something.
"Well, I need to tell you something too. God spoke to me like I haven't heard in a really long time. He told me that we aren't done. I don't know if it's China, foster care or where or what, but I know we are not done growing our family."
And there it was.
We both said it.
Us.
Parents.
Again.
Shocked at what we both had just said.
We just looked at each other.
Speechless.
Neither of us not knowing what to say.
The silence was short lived....
"Welcome to Jack in the Box. Go ahead and place your order."
With the revelation that we knew we would be parents again, we suddenly lost our appetites and confused the drive thru guy with just ordering waters.
August came just a few months later.
And so did the news that his cancer had spread to his spine.
Life spiraled out of control for the next several months.
As my man's cancer spread.
To his lymph nodes.
To his lung.
We only spoke about that drive thru conversation a few times in the following months.
The conversations were mostly about how confused we were.
We both felt it.
We both heard it.
That we weren't done.
But how would we ever bring another child into our family with a daddy who had cancer.
2014 brought new hope with my man's IL-2 cancer treatment.
And then his stroke came along.
And yet.
I still had this feeling I was going to be a mother once again.
My man recovered.
In record time.
The cancer was appearing to be beat.
My man was becoming a survivor.
Then some news came our way.
China had loosened up their criteria.
They were now allowing one parent to have had cancer in the past to adopt.
By this time my man's tumors were basically non-existent.
He was.
Cancer free.
And then we waited.
And waited.
Not sure what direction to go in.
We were so confused.
So very confused.
And so conflicted.
We knew what we heard.
But we were scared.
What if the cancer comes back?
What if the cancer comes back and we have a new little life in our family.
Is that fair to him or her?
But what if it doesn't?
That question kept swirling in my head.
My man confided in me that he kept asking himself the same question.
What if it doesn't?
And we didn't do anything.
What if the cancer doesn't return.
Then what?
It's called living in fear.
And to be honest.
It's how we lived for awhile.
Even when his scans came back clear.
Cancer free.
And the words.
"You're in remission!"
But we kept finding ourselves saying.....
Let's wait for the next scan.
You know, just to be sure.
And then the next scan would come back clear.
But we still found ourselves saying....
Just one more scan and then we'll move forward.
We slowly tiptoed around the world of adoption.
Quietly looking at waiting children.
Seeing if any tugged at our hearts.
Still nervous about moving forward.
Not signing any paperwork with any agency.
Only talking about it with a few friends who knew our fears.
But then.
Just five days into 2016.
I saw a face.
It tugged at my heart.
And it tugged at my man's.
It happened just like that.
I called asking to review his file.
And was told there was a list of families interested in him.
I understood and asked that we be put on the list.
In less than a week.
I got the call that we were at the top.
We were still interested?
Ummm, yes.
He has very severe heart condition.
Were we still interested?
Severe.
Yikes.
But that face.
He had me at that face.
That tiny grin he's trying to show.
Or is he trying to hide it?
Yes, we want to see the file.
Oh, and no pressure but....
"we only have his file for four more days before it needs to be returned to China."
Even better.
Pressure.
I kept refreshing my email while asking myself.
How severe is too severe?
What exactly can we handle?
I finally got the file after waiting an exhausting three minutes.
I could see there were a lot of pictures.
Of a precious face.
But I told myself.
No clicking on pictures until you find his diagnosis.
I scrolled through all the documents.
Looking.
While preparing myself.
And then I found it.
Tetrology of fallot.
The same exact diagnosis as our Reagan.
It is a serious condition.
But once it's repaired.
It can be not so serious.
And guess what?
His was repaired when he was just a few months old.
While he was in the care of Maria's Big House of Hope.
Which he lived in the first three years of his life.
We kept going over all the documents.
Scanning for what we were missing.
Why had no family already committed to this boy?
What was so scary about his file?
I contacted several cardiologists asking if they would please review his file.
I needed someone to interpret all the numbers from his most recent echos.
They all said no.
Apparently HIPAA.
Seriously.
I was told on more than one occasion that HIPAA extends all the way to China.
I was not his parent or guardian.
So the answer was no.
I called international adoption doctors and clinics for a file review.
But there was a two week turn around at best.
And before we knew it.
That four days was here.
His file was to be returned to China.
Without any answers as to exactly what this little boy's current heart condition was.
My man and I felt at peace.
To move forward.
And start the journey.
Of becoming parents once again.
And so here we are.
Please meet our son, Sonny.
His name is Sonny Heke Daniel. As much as my man and I love us some Sonny Bono, I'm afraid to say he's not named after the male partner of the great Sonny & Cher duo. He's named after his late grandpa, Charles "Sonny" Meister. I never got to meet Sonny's namesake but I am forever grateful for the amazing job he did raising my man.
Sonny is currently four years old and will turn five this summer. And in addition to having the same heart condition as Reagan, he's from the same province, Henan, and orphanage, Luoyang, as her. We hope to travel sometime late this year, we're guessing around November/December.
Since accepting Sonny's file, I was able to locate an organization, Little Hearts Medical, that reviews cardiac files of children for adoption purposes. We had them review Sonny's file. Sonny's repair appears to be stable. All his numbers look good. He may have to have a minor follow up or repair when he's a teenager, but all in all, his heart is in good shape.
