Vietnam Babylift Personal Stories
by
Charlene Edwards
"She shimmered in time." Lana's poetic
words describe her adopted Vietnamese daughter, Heather, whose short life
ended 24 years ago. "I'm sorry we couldn't save her, but I'm so very
glad we had the opportunity to love her."
In 1973, after five years of marriage, Lana and
Byron faced up to the realization that they had little hope of having children
of their own. So they chose adoption. "We soon found out how futile an
American adoption would be and instead we decided to look outside this country."
They got in touch with Friends of Children of Vietnam and began a long, tedious
adoption process. "Page after page after page of application papers,
hours of home study and interminable interviews—we thought it would never
end. We were even fingerprinted. Almost an entire year after we began the
process, we finally received our approval. Then we had to wait. Wait for our
baby."
It was early 1975 and the tension in Saigon was rising. The Viet Cong were
closing in on the city. President Ford announced that Operation Babylift would
be set in motion using American military transport aircraft. Other countries
around the world joined in the effort, and on April 3, 1975, the evacuation
of Vietnamese and Amerasian orphans began. On the second day of the airlift,
a C5-A cargo jet carrying 228 orphans crashed into a rice paddy 20 minutes
into its flight from Tan Son Nhut Air Base. Forty-nine adults and 78 orphans
died.
Lana, Byron and an entire community of potential adoptee parents on Long Island
were devastated. No one knew whose children were on the plane, and fear showed
on their weary faces as they waited to hear the names of those who perished.
"Without question, it was one of the worst days of my life." Lana,
still visibly upset, tells the story of that day as she strokes Heather's
face in one of the few photographs she has of her child. "Thank God,
Heather wasn't on that downed plane."
From April 3 to April 19, 1975, Operation Babylift flew more than 3,000 children
to new homes in America, Europe, Canada and Australia. Heather was one of
these children. She left Vietnam on April 11 and was twice hospitalized —
for pneumonia, malnutrition, anemia, scabies, salmonella and a cough —
before reaching New York on April 23. "Heather only stayed home with
us until April 29, when we had no choice but to take her to the hospital.
We stayed there with her day and night. I remember sitting at her bedside
watching the television report that the North Vietnamese were taking over
Saigon." As the South lost ground, so too did Heather. "I remember
thinking, God didn't bring her all this way here, so many thousands of miles,
to have her die on us. But she did." Heather struggled to hold on, but
she was too ill. "Our tiny miracle baby, Heather Constance, smiled at
us twice before she died on May 17."
"The trauma of her death was such a shock that it followed us forever.
We were never the same again." Heather's funeral was on May 20. "That
night, in one of the darkest moments of our lives, the phone rang. It was
Friends of Children of Vietnam. They had three more babies to place. They
wanted us to take one. Our minds raced. We had just buried our daughter —
we couldn't go through it again. We needed time for silence and tears. I said
I'd call them back the next day." Without barely a pause to grieve, Lana
called the next day and opened her heart to yet another life.
Evacuated when she was three months old, Jennifer was the very last baby placed
from Operation Baby lift. "She came home on June 5, 1975, and was ours
the minute we saw her, shaved head and all. There was no sleeping her first
nights home. We hovered over her day and night, constantly checking to make
sure she was alive." Jennifer flourished and grew bright and confident.
Piano, flute, soccer, gymnastics and dance lessons filled her childhood. "Jenny
is so gifted and talented. And very much her own person. Her first sentence
was, 'I do it!'"
Jennifer earned many achievements. She won a good citizenship award, was named
sportswoman of the year, and graduated an honor student from high school.
She graduated from Drew University cum laude with a bachelor's in psychology
and from Columbia University with a master's in social work. She now works
as a social worker with underprivileged, low-income families. Jennifer's interest
in her heritage has grown stronger as she matured. She would like to visit
Vietnam someday soon.
Lana and Byron did not want Jennifer to grow up as an only child, so on December
11, 1979, Jason, an abandoned child from an orphanage in Seoul, South Korea,
became her new brother. He graduated from Hofstra University and is presently
working as a social studies teacher. "We are so proud of both our children.
Our lives have been transformed by them. We are truly blessed."
Even so, each and every spring, when the earth stirs, Lana remembers her lost
child. "I loved her so much—she was my baby. She was a gift to us
all. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her and talk to her. I am so
thankful that she died being loved. I wake early every morning from April
23 to May 17 and ponder what I will do in Heather's memory. It's as if I'm
on a mission, and for those 25 days that mark the anniversary of Heather's
life with us, I donate money and try to help increase awareness of the tragedy
of her death."
Heather is buried far from Vietnam, near a bench, a lovely dogwood tree and
a globe of the world. Lying in the earth next to her is a young corporal.
She died in his country. He died in hers.
Reprinted by courtesy of the author, Charlene Edwards
© 2002 Charlene Edwards. All rights reserved.