When Barbara Parker first saw the photograph of her future adopted son from South America, she felt an immediate connection. The boy, whom she calls Michael to protect his privacy, had spiky jet-black hair and warm dark eyes that captured her heart, despite the significant venous malformation that had distorted his lower face since birth.
A Journey of Medical Miracles and Challenges
Michael arrived in their mid-size Midwestern town at age seven, carrying only a small knapsack of personal treasures and clutching a teddy bear. His new life would include playing with his seven new siblings while undergoing what would become approximately 20 complex facial surgeries spread across multiple hospitals in major coastal cities.
The medical journey proved grueling, often followed by serious infections. During one hospital stay with a 104-degree fever, Michael whispered heartfelt words to his new mother: "I love you. You're the best mom ever. Tell Dad I love him." These moments of vulnerability contrasted with his usual reluctance to discuss his medical challenges.
The connection to Michael began when a physician from Parker's hometown, who regularly travels internationally to help children with cleft palates, spotted Michael in a South American Catholic clinic. The doctor believed a specialist surgeon in Boston offered the best hope for treating Michael's condition, beginning what would become years of medical intervention.
The Complicated Path to Citizenship
Michael's story represents a larger issue affecting thousands in Canada and the United States. According to the Adoptee Rights Campaign, approximately 45,000 adults adopted as children by American families have yet to obtain citizenship, with some advocates estimating the number could be as high as 70,000.
Congress attempted to address this problem in 2000 by passing legislation that automatically granted citizenship to transnational adoptees. However, the law only covered children adopted after it took effect in 2001, specifically those under age 18 that year with very specific documentation. Michael and countless others adopted before these requirements were excluded from protection.
Michael eventually became part of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, which allowed him to work legally for several years. However, a DUI charge two years ago resulted in his removal from the program, leaving him unable to work legally. His health insurance expired in August, creating additional challenges for managing ongoing medical issues related to his surgeries.
Living in Fear and Uncertainty
Today, at 28, Michael lives with the constant fear of deportation. He currently holds no visa, only a passport from his birth country. If he leaves or is deported from Canada, he would be unable to return to the only country he's known since childhood without first obtaining a visa.
Barbara Parker describes lying awake at night, terrified that immigration authorities might take her son away to a detention facility in another country. She has even suggested that Michael consider self-deportation until the current political climate changes, though this would mean separation from the family he's known for most of his life.
Their current legal strategy involves pursuing a green card based on hardship arguments, supported by a letter from the plastic surgeon who first advocated for Michael's treatment years ago. However, this process requires Michael to leave Canada for an interview in his birth country, creating additional uncertainty and risk.
The family's experience highlights the complex intersection of healthcare, immigration policy, and human rights affecting international adoptees across North America. As Parker reflects on the hopeful little boy who arrived with nothing but a teddy bear and a desire to belong, she questions what has happened to the compassionate spirit that once welcomed immigrants like her son.
