A special daughter's birthday

It was September 20, 1972. The phone rang at about 3 p.m. and I picked it up never thinking that this was a life-changing moment. We had waited for over two years to hear from the LDS Church Relief Society adoption services for the call telling us they had a child that would be a good fit for our family. They told me they had a baby girl, six days old, and could we be there before 5 p.m. to pick her up. If I try to describe the feelings that I had at that moment, it would be disbelief that it finally happened, panic that I had nothing ready, and excitement to finally have another baby and a little sister for Robert. I called Jerry at work and they couldn't find him - more panic, how would we get there by 5:00! He did call back in a few minutes, came home, we dashed to Grand Central and bought an outfit to bring her home in and away we went to the RS Building to pick up our new family member.

Here we are, the Asay family with newly adopted Lynette Marie, Jerry, Linda and Robert, age 41/2. This new baby daughter had, in our minds, every future potential that any child could have. We were so naive and unsuspecting of what was to come. Our Heavenly Father had much different plans for our family in sending this child to us. It wasn't until she was about six months old that we admitted that she just was not developing the way she should. She had a hard time holding her head up, wasn't anywhere near sitting alone and when I asked the doctor about it, his comment was that all babies develop at different rates and not to worry about it. However, as time passed, I kept commenting to him that I didn't think "all was well". At about 8 months of age, I said to him that I thought something was definitely amiss. She wasn't rolling over, and she just kicked her right leg and her left hand was always in a fist. He finally said that we better have a neurologist take a look at her.

That was a day never to be forgotten. Because I believe that our minds try to rule out the worst case scenario, I went with her to the neurologist with the highest hopes that it was just some little problem that could be easily fixed. Silly me! When I think back, I knew that it was really serious, but I was trying my hardest to not go there. The neurologist dashed that hope in a few moments and less words. He sat down across his desk from us and said, "Her head is too small", picked her up off my lap and took her into another room. When he came back he bluntly said, "I believe the right side of her brain is missing". Did I break down in front of him - No Way! I sat and listened to his plan to set up an EEG at the hospital to confirm his findings. In my mind, this doctor flunked his course in "bedside manner". To me he seemed brutal in his "matter-of-fact" telling of the situation. When I told him that she was adopted, he asked if the adoption was final and suggested that we contact the agency about giving her back. I left his office in a complete daze and really don't know how I ever drove home.

What was going through my mind? I think I was in total shock and it was really just as if he had told me my baby was dead. She was never going to be the little daughter that I had envisioned. As I look back on it, we suffered much the same grieving that we would have if she had died, for that child we thought we had was gone and in her place was one that we had never thought we would have. His suggestion that we give her back was just not an option for a family with our beliefs, we knew that Lynette was to be a member of our family forever.

Now, 38 years later and through all the highs and the lows and all of the learning experiences both for Lynette and for the rest of the family, we are very grateful for this special person. She has never ceased to amaze us and continues to do so. One day we will see her as she truly is and understand the full extent of the blessing she has been in our lives.