Information email: largefamilies2001@yahoo.com
A Little Log Home Where Trees Grow Tall, Animals Play and Children Blossom
Back in the woods of New Jersey's Cape May County, there is a little log home where trees grow tall, animals play and children blossom.
It belongs to Kelly and Bill Getty, who, according to the doctors, would never be able to have children of their own. As it turns out, their science was right but their conclusions were wrong. The Gettys have adopted nine children in six years, and those kids are theirs in every way that matters.
The children came from Hong Kong and the Philippines and the United States, from malnutrition, from cocaine and casual liaisons, from abusive parents and parents unable to care. Their ages range from 2 to 9. Almost all are labeled as special-needs children, meaning they have physical, emotional and learning problems that include cerebral palsy, legal blindness and Down's syndrome, and they're also dealing with problems associated with early abuse and neglect.
That's what the official reports say. Unofficially, these are the kind of children other parents look at and think, "Why can't my kids be like that?" They appear bright, warm, friendly and very, very happy. You haven't seen a smile until you've met the Getty kids.
Kelly and Bill Getty have been married 14 years. They live in Eldora surrounded by too many critters to count. He's quiet; she doesn't mind talking.
What kind of people adopt nine special-needs kids?
"Saints," said Cheryl Perrone, a case worker with the state Division of Youth and Family Services, which placed two children with the Gettys.
"The Gettys have a magic with kids, they really do. I wish you could bottle it," said Carolyn Bacher, director of operations for Trenton-based Children's Home Society, a non-profit agency that placed four children with the family.
The Gettys insist they're not saints. They come across as regular people who happen to be doing extraordinary things. If anything, they seem a little surprised - amused, even - at how things turned out, and that people think they're doing something extremely difficult.
""It doesn't take an extraordinary person to do this,'' said Kelly Getty. ""You don't have to be that extraordinary to get children to blossom. We don't consider ourselves to be martyrs or saviors. We're just parents loving our children.''
As any parent knows, a sense of humor helps. Occasionally when awed people ask her how she does it, she says she's got a backup plan in case things don't work out. ""I tell everybody I saved the receipts,'' she said.
The way they tell it, their filled-up house just kind of happened. When the doctors gave them the word that the fertility procedures weren't going to work, they figured they had their house in the woods, and if they couldn't have kids they'd be happy raising animals, lots of animals.
Adoption was an afterthought, but not all that surprising, considering Bill Getty's background. His mother was raised in foster care, as was his best friend growing up. Foreign kids naturally came to mind because Kelly Getty's father is Philippino. After investigating, they decided they would get a little girl from the Philippines. Kelly Getty went by herself and stayed a month before bringing her home, and during that month she had a heartbreaking tour of orphanages and the streets.
""It was tough,'' she said. ""You just want to take them all home with you. It's horrible.''
But out of it came Jennalyn, now 9, who was adopted at age 3.
How does she like her life now? "It's wonderful," she said, showing one of those wonderful Getty smiles.
And what does she like best?
"Playing with my brothers and sisters."
What was life like back in the Philippines?
"We had no money," she said, momentarily losing the smile. "We had to stay on the street."
After Jennalyn's adoption, logical situations seemed to keep presenting themselves. Case workers would call with prospective kids, or the Gettys would be chatting with people who would mention a certain child. Twice they decided to take on siblings, and when they started coming two and three at a time, it didn't take long for the total to come up to nine. The last adoption was Jumoke, 2, in May. ""I was minding my own business, not looking for any trouble,'' said Kelly Getty, and somebody from one of the adoption agencies called and told her about this beautiful girl they couldn't place.
And yes, the Gettys do have time for themselves. Most of their activities center around the children, but the kids go to bed by 8 p.m., and the older kids help with the chores. To Kelly Getty, it felt like more work when there were fewer kids because she felt more of an obligation to keep them entertained. But she does stay plenty busy during the day. All the kids are home-schooled, and the older ones participate in community activities such as cheerleading and football.
It hasn't all been easy. The children are Asian, black and Hispanic, and to the Gettys' surprise, people sometimes disapprove. ""We've started to notice that people are bothered by the race mixture,'' she said. ""I've noticed the way people look at you.''
And the children's medical problems, though better, still require attention. ""The van just drives itself to Children's Hospital'' in Philadelphia, noted Bill Getty. But Kelly Getty believes the emotional problems can be even more difficult to treat. Children are wonderfully resilient, but early abuse leaves wounds that remain tender for many years.
""It's like they have this big hole that you have to fill up," she said. ""They missed out on years of what most kids get.''
One of the questions the Gettys often get is about the future. How will they pay for college? Their answer: They don't know. They figure some will go to college, some won't, but that doesn't seem to be as important to the Gettys as whether their children lead good and happy lives. They're more concerned with leaving the children with a large moral bankroll, a legacy of love, not money. They live on Bill Getty's salary, and they get a monthly stipend from the state for the six children adopted domestically, which amounts to roughly $300 per child. They appear to live comfortably, simply and happily.
""What could there be in life that's possibly more exciting?'' said Kelly Getty.
Are they finished adopting? Maybe. Their house is finished, at least in its present configuration. There's just no more room. But you never know. ""We kid around and always say we'll have a baker's dozen,'' said Kelly Getty. ""But we're filled to the rafters, now, literally.''
The Getty children, in order of adoption:
Jennalyn, 9, abandoned when she was about 1 after her birth mother died of starvation. At adoption she was suffering from neglect, malnutrition, parasites and tuberculosis. She was withdrawn and couldn't speak. Since her adoption she has made great progress, said Kelly Getty, although, like all the others, she still faces challenges.
MinhLe, 8 (Mindy), adopted at age 2 after she had been placed with another American couple and rejected because of her medical problems. Although legally blind, eye operations and glasses have improved her vision. And now, Kelly Getty said, the girl who was once labeled retarded has been tested at a genius-level IQ. ""Right away, we could tell there was something going on upstairs, you could see something going on in her eyes,'' she said.
Oscar, Jose and Maria, now 9, 8 and 6, all biological siblings, adopted at ages 5, 3 and 2, spent most of their early lives in Florida and New Jersey. Their father was abusive and a drug dealer; their mother was 15 when she had Oscar, who has a scar on his leg from an iron burn. When Oscar came to the Getty house he suffered from night terrors, and all three children were insecure at first and were classified as handicapped. Now? ""They're great,'' said Kelly Getty. ""All three are very intelligent, actually ahead of their grade levels. Maria could read at age 4.''
Juen, now 6, adopted at age 3 from Hong Kong, has Down's syndrome and two holes in her heart. However, she is one of the luckier Getty children because early on, she was cared for by a loving British couple who lived in Hong Kong. Now she's advancing well. She's learning to read and write and is doing first-grade work.
Monique and Ashley, 5 and 4, were adopted domestically when they were 4 and 3. They are biological half-sisters. Both tested positive for cocaine at birth. Monique is deaf but can now hear, thanks to a device implanted surgically in her inner ear. Because she can hear, she's now learning to talk. Before coming to the Getty house, both girls had behavior problems. Monique was kept in a cage-like crib by her foster parents because she was so uncontrollable. Both banged their heads until they bled, both smeared feces on the walls and both were aggressive, which made them seem risky, but the Gettys decided to take a chance. ""We just felt they would fit in,'' said Kelly Getty. Their behavior improved quickly and they never had to be confined. ""You just don't sleep a lot at first when a new child comes,'' she said. ""You watch and don't let them out of your sight ... As soon as they knew what was expected, they just weren't wild. Besides, I like children who are a little spunky. And I think a lot of these kids realize right away, 'Hey, these people are committed.'' She describes both girls are very bright.
Jumoke, 2, (Jody) came to the family in May. Although physically healthy, she was in foster care for 1-1/2 years. Jumoke's birth mother was married, but the baby wasn't her husband's, and she almost decided on an abortion. After more than a year of neglect, her mother agreed to give her up. Kelly Getty described Jody as ""a little clingy'' at first but now ""very verbal'' and doing well.
For information about adopting from the state Division of Youth and Family Services, call a 24-hour hot line, 1-800-99ADOPT. For a list of New Jersey licensed adoption agencies, including those specializing in foreign adoptions, call 292-8255. For information on the Web, start with (www.nac.adopt.org) which is National Adoption Center in Philadelphia. One example of a New Jersey based agency is Children's Home Society, based in Trenton, which has been handling adoptions since 1894. The number is 1-800-247-6365. Carolyn Bacher, director of operations, said the agency is always looking for African American families, and is also now "quite involved" with orphans from Bulgaria, with ages generally ranging from 1-6. The cost of adoptions ranges dramatically, Bacher said, from a high of about $18,000 for some foreign adoptions - Kelly Getty said the cost can be much less - to as little as $350 for special-needs minority children from New Jersey. For more information, there are also many books at libraries on adoption.
Visitors to our site since July 16, 2002.
Back to page of Articles
