Raising Michael
When Catherine brought her little boy home, it was the start of a remarkable journey
Ican’t deal with the IVF anymore,’ I told my husband, Hans. ‘It’s too traumatic.’ As he wrapped his arms around me, we both knew we only had one more option left.
Hans and I had met through mutual friends when we were both 35.
It was love at first sight and seven months later we were married. In our mid
40s, we started trying for a baby, before eventually turning to IVF. But the injections, egg transfers and disappointment were taking their toll. Adoption was now our only hope.
The first stage involved the long-winded process of interviews and training, before we were accepted into the adoption program.
By this point we were both 50 and deemed ‘too old’ to adopt an Australian child, so our application was sent to orphanages overseas.
Then in 2000, we received a photo of a little boy named Mantu Budhadev.
Just five years old, he looked defiant as he scowled at the camera.
‘You can tell he hasn’t had a good upbringing,’ I sighed. My heart broke for him.
‘We could give him a childhood,’ Hans agreed.
We had 24 hours to make our decision, but we already knew it was a yes.
And once we received confirmation, it was all systems go.
Preparing for his arrival, we painted his room a golden yellow and sent him a photo album with snaps of our home and our cat, Fluffy.
Posting it off, I felt a flutter of nerves.
I just hope he likes it,
I thought.
Then finally, in 2002, we flew to India to bring Mantu, – who later chose to change his name to Michael – home.
I felt so emotional as we arrived at the orphanage.
It was like a dream, I couldn’t believe we were about to meet our son.
Wearing a yellow top and brown pants, Michael, seven, beamed and cartwheeled down the corridor toward us. He then presented us with a bunch of marigolds
As I hugged my boy for the very first time, it was magical.
He only knew three words in
English. That night, we took
Michael to our hotel to start bonding.
I felt a rush of gratitude as he sank into a bath for the first time in his life.
The look of delight on his face was indescribable.
The next day, we held an ice-cream party for the kids at the orphanage so Michael could say his goodbyes.
The flight home was difficult. I could tell Michael was scared and tried my best to comfort him.
When we returned to Melbourne, we showed our boy around his new home and eased his nerves with cuddles. I also learned an Indian song that Michael liked to calm him.
The next day it was heartwarming to see Michael’s joy at experiencing the beach for the first time, and the excitement on his face when we gave him a bike.
Michael started school
a week after arriving in Australia. But from early on, it was obvious he had some behavioural issues.
He would refuse to do what teachers told him and struggled to focus.
He’d also ignore us at home when it was time to go to bed or stop watching TV.
And while this is typical of most kids, it seemed that Michael’s troubles ran deeper.
‘You have to remember that coming over here is like he’s been born again,’ Hans’ mum said.
Working with behavioural experts, we discovered it was likely that Michael had been mistreated as a baby, which led to developmental delays.
Despite his rebellion in the classroom, Michael shone at sports.
Hans and I would be there supporting him at every soccer match or swimming lesson.
Sport transformed Michael and over the years, it’s helped make him the man that he is today.
He joined the Special Olympics when he was 15 and has gone on to coach athletics and basketball, which he loves.
Last November, he was announced as the Victorian ambassador for the Special Olympics National Games.
I am beyond proud by how far he’s come.
Michael has never been able to track down his birth parents. In 2013 we flew to India to see if the orphanage had any information. Unfortunately, they didn’t, but it was wonderful for Michael to go back.
When we returned to Australia, I could tell how the trip had changed him. He seemed so much more settled.
Now 22, Michael lives in his own flat and is studying community services and disability at university.
He loves having his own independence.
But I often worry about what will happen when Hans and I are no longer around and there’s no-one there to look out for him.
I’m passionate about developing shared accommodation for those with an intellectual disability and recently joined a support group to raise awareness.
Having Michael has been a roller-coaster of emotions, but I wouldn’t change any of it. I couldn’t imagine life without him.
It was likely that Michael had been mistreated