If Our Son Is Happy, What Else Matters?

My son had a spate of bad falls. His black eye and leg cast made him look like he escaped a car crash, but just barely. People asked at every turn, "What happened to him?"

The honest answer would have been "What didn't happen to him?" He's had a rough life.

But since the truth is complicated, my answers tended to be flip. "You should see the other guy!" At one point, I said to my partner: "It's amazing no one's reported us for child abuse."

Then someone did. Unfortunately, it may not have been out of concern for our child's well-being, but because of bias toward his parents.

I had adopted Sasha seven months earlier from Eastern Europe. While we knew that not everyone approved of "gay adoption" as a concept, we couldn't believe that anyone would prefer that this specific child had been left in his orphanage. He wasn't exactly thriving there. At 17 months, Sasha was the size of an American 5-month-old. While most kids walk by 12 months, Sasha could barely crawl. He didn't babble or coo. His eyes were vacant and haunted.

Born 10 weeks premature and at less than four pounds, Sasha would have benefited from early intervention. But he spent his first 17 months lying alone in a crib. He was sickly and withdrawn. I asked one of the orphanage workers if Sasha ever smiled, and she replied "No, he's a serious child." Imagine a child who's never smiled.