A Romanian Dream

In the spring of 1991, my husband Jim and I adopted a little girl from Romania.

From the time that we got the call to say that she was legally ours, we had less than a week to prepare for instant parenthood. Away we went, with credit card in hand, frantically buying out half of the baby section at our local department store. Diapers, bottles, clothes, toys... you name it, we bought it.

Never in a million years did we think that our adoption process would go so quickly. In November of 1990 our home study was completed by a licensed social worker, who submitted all of our paperwork to the Ministry of Community and Social Services (Private and International Adoption Branch), which then issued us a letter of no objection, meaning that, at long last, we were approved for international adoption.

Through our social worker, we found out about a woman in Edmonton who was helping couples to adopt children from Romania. We contacted this woman and, after a lot of paperwork and several telephone calls, we enlisted her services. Away she went, looking for a child for us. That was in January of 1991.

On February 28, 1991 (my mom’s and dad’s 42nd anniversary), I received a call at work from the woman in Edmonton, who told me that a contact in Romania had located a 14-month-old little girl who was perfectly healthy. She told me that my husband and I had a couple of days to think about it and that I could call her back with our decision whether or not to accept this child. Needless to say, we didn’t need any time to think about it. We told her to go ahead and start the proceedings.

It was at this point that we started running into some problems.

Through our contact in Edmonton, we were put in touch with a lawyer who handled our case and represented us in adoption court. Because I was legally blind, the judge who resided in a court close to where our little girl was staying decided to rule against our request. He stated that because of my visual impairment, he did not feel that I could provide a child with the necessary attention.

You can imagine the outrage and frustration that Jim and I felt after learning this from our lawyer. At that point we weren’t quite sure what to do. We just knew that we were not going to give up without a fight.

Not once, not twice, but three times we were ruled against, by three different judges in three different courts. Talk about going to hell and back! Every day we were on an emotional roller coaster. Jim and I were set to get on a plane and head over to Romania to prove to them that I am just as capable as anyone of raising a child.


Our lawyer told us to take it easy and that if he had to move a mountain to make this work for us, he would. It wasn’t many days later that his words rang true. He did, in fact, move a mountain, and we were approved by a judge who had some insight, not to mention common sense.

Because of the extra appearances in court that our lawyer made on our behalf, as well as long distance telephone calls back and forth from Toronto to Romania to Edmonton, it ended up costing us a lot more money than planned. Initially we were told that, after all was said and done, it would cost us between $10,000 and $12,000 U.S. But because of the uniqueness of our case, it ended up costing close to $20,000. We were really angry, and felt that we had had to pay more just because of my disability.

However, we forgot about that as soon as we received a call to say that our 16-month-old little girl would be arriving at Pearson International Airport on Wednesday, April 24, 1991, on Flight #467, at 3:40 in the afternoon.

When we arrived at the airport, we had no idea what to expect. We had not seen any pictures of her and knew very little of her background. Of course, none of that mattered to us, but I will say that she was certainly not what we had envisioned. Knowing that her birth parents were very poor and had nine other children to clothe and feed, we expected to see a poor little gangly child who was starving to death.

Once we finished signing all the necessary papers at the Immigration Department, we were sent up to the arrivals section to wait for our daughter and the two women whom our lawyer had appointed to travel with her from Romania. We waited for what seemed like an eternity. We didn’t know what any of them looked like so we had to wait to be identified, as they had seen pictures of us. We stood there looking at every child who came off that flight, wondering if this could be her.

All of a sudden, we heard our names called. We turned and looked, and there they were. I extended my arms to receive her and she came willingly, with a big smile on her face. My husband Jim kept saying, "Oh my God, she’s beautiful." He described her to me, emphasizing her enormous brown eyes, curly, shoulder-length brown hair, and chubby little cheeks.

Some of the people who had been on her flight and knew that she was being adopted came over and congratulated us. They told us what a happy child she was and how she had entertained everyone on the flight.

The two women who had been travelling with her said their goodbyes, and away they went to catch a connecting flight to Edmonton. I remember saying to Jim at that point that if she started to cry, we wouldn’t be able to hand her back to her mother -- because I am now her mother! What a weird but wonderful feeling that was! We left the airport glowing just like new parents would when leaving the hospital with their newborn baby.

Brittany is now five, and has celebrated her fourth anniversary in Canada. Jim and I have adjusted exceptionally well to parenthood and are loving every moment of it -- almost every moment, that is. We have our days when we begin to wonder, but they are few and far between!

(Sherry Downie is a Peer Support Worker at the Centre for Independent Living in Toronto (CILT). This article is reprinted with permission from the Summer 1994 edition of "CILT -- In the Stream.")