Book review -- The Family Way

As they slowly walked through the dormitory, she saw that these children were clean and fed. They regarded Jessica and Paulo with baffled curiosity, but they were not frightened or cowed. They had been treated with affection and kindness.

But there were so many of them that they had realised there was no point in crying. Their tears were not like the tears of a baby outside, not like the tears of Chloe or Poppy. Their tears were not the end of the world for a mother and a father, and those tears would only be ignored.

Because there were so many.

"Four million baby girls," Simon said. "Four million baby girls like this in China."

"They're all girls? All these children are girls?"

He nodded. "Because of one child policy of government. People only have one son or daughter. Many prefer son. Especially in countryside. Low people. Uneducated."

Four million baby girls in care because of the one child policy.

***

... Jessica couldn't help smiling, because they were beautiful. Serious, almond-eyed little angels, some of them with surprising shocks of hair, all these Elvis-like eruptions of jet-black plumage.

Paulo shook his head. You can't just bring home a baby from your holidays. You can't do it. This was madness.

***

Jessica was staring at Little Wei. The child stared at her and then at Paulo. He looked away from those huge, wide-set eyes, and touched his wife's arm, as if he were trying to wake her. It was time to go.

"I know, Jess. I know how you feel. I really do. This child -- it's tragic."

"Is she any more tragic than I am? I wonder."

"You want to help the starving millions? Make a donation. Write a cheque. I mean it. You know -- sponsor her. These are poor people, Jess. They will be grateful for your help. Call Oxfam. Fill out a direct debit. Give them a little something every month. It will be a good thing you're doing. But it's the most you can do."

"You know why they don't cry, Paulo? Because they're not loved. There's no point in crying if you're not loved. Because nobody comes."

Paulo watched his wife reach into the cot and pick up Little Wei.

Jessica gently touched the back of the child's head, clearly hoping that she would rest it against her chest, the way Poppy did when her aunt touched her in the same way. But Little Wei's head remained stubbornly upright as she considered the two big-nosed pinkies on either side of her.

***

"Look at her," Jessica said. "Just look at her, Paulo. This child needs someone to love her. And look at me. I want to be somebody's mother. It's as simple as that."

Paulo shook his head, and stared at the pair of them. This was insane.

But he watched Little Wei as she placed a tiny hand on Jessica's chest, her fingers like matchsticks, and some chunk of ice buried deep inside him began to thaw.

Maybe she was right after all.

Maybe it was as simple as that.

-- The Family Way by Tony Parsons

Reading Tony Parsons always makes me cry. It doesn't matter if most of the time the cheesy coincidences make me feel like I'm trapped in a written soap opera; somewhere along the way, he always manages to get to me.

There are so many sub-plots that I couldn't give you a synopsis even if I wanted to, but the one that revolved around the issue of adoption -- that was the one that touched my heart.

It's something that I've always wanted to do, and yet I've always felt insane for wanting it. And I don't mean Plan B. If I'm going to adopt a child, I don't want him or her to feel like I did it because it was my second choice. I don't want my child to think that he's second best -- not in my eyes. He'll have plenty of disappointment in his lifetime, but I don't want to let him down -- not that way.

Four million baby girls, and that's just in China. The resonance of that thought drives a knife into my heart. And it confounds me, that with so many children needing homes, we are still turning to artificial methods for -- what? -- a 30% chance. Adoption -- this beautiful act of giving -- has been relegated to Plan C, reserved for when Plan B fails. At the same time, I realise how unfair this accusation is, because it must be the most natural thing in the world to want a child of your own -- from your own.

It chokes me up, and breaks me down. I fear that if I go on, I won't be able to stop. But most of all, I fear that I will never have the courage to do this, and I will always wonder about that one (or two, or three) child(ren) who needed me, that I didn't help.