Reece’s Rainbow Report #64: Chinchak Family

If that seems shocking, the 38-year-old wedding and family photographer isn’t sorry. 

“I do wish there was more ‘real talk’ among the disabilities and adoption communities, especially amongst the mothers,” she says. “While the last eight years have had wonderful moments, it has also been filled with tears of anger and frustration, needs much higher than I ever anticipated and void of friends who ‘get it.’”

Because isn’t that the reality of all hard, beautiful things in life? It certainly has been for the Chinchaks, at least. There are no regrets for either Hope or her husband Joe, a 43-year-old small projects contractor. But there are also no rose-colored glasses or Hollywood-ready speeches on life as parents to two adopted Ukrainian boys, both with Down syndrome.

What’s left instead, with startling clarity, is this daily realization: love is so much more than fuzzy feelings generated from cute photos. It’s a monumental commitment to be present, to be faithful, to protect and nurture and cherish, even when those initial warm emotions have been tossed out like broken Christmas ornaments. 

“I think it is important to remember that ‘your story is your story,’ and you shouldn't focus on what anyone else thinks about it,” Hope says. “Those who think it is amazing will soon forget, and those who didn't care in the first place still won't care.” 

Their story starts almost a decade ago, when Hope began following her former stepdaughter’s adoption from Ukraine. That led her to Reece’s Rainbow and a photo of a beautiful young boy with a crooked smile. It felt like “Wetherby” was actually making eye contact with her through the screen. 

“God spoke to me that morning,” says Hope, a mother of five. “It was clear: 'Go to him.’”

She did, bringing her new son home to Florida in 2016. Pasha was closing in on eight years old yet weighed only 20 pounds, alongside the alarming hobby of punching himself in the face. His head was constantly decorated with bruises, and he often burst into tears for seemingly no reason. 

“I can’t imagine as an adult being part of an orphanage and watching people come and go being my only experience,” Hope says. “Then being suddenly taken from the only environment you’ve ever known and thrust into everything new — it must have been scary.” 

Still, there was small-yet-encouraging steps forward. So much so, in fact, that Hope and Joe returned to Ukraine in 2017 to make “Chance,” then two years old, the newest Chinchak. Another one — a Chinchak, that is — was hot on Bodie’s heels, as Hope was heavily pregnant with their fifth child at the time. 

“I've seen a hundred photos of these kids, but something drew me toward Bo's photo,” Hope remembers. “He looked like a little gumdrop; so sweet and cheeky.” 

Within a year of his adoption, the family looked on excitedly as Bodie began walking on his own. In direct contrast to his laidback older brother (who, by the way, is not his blood brother just because they have same diagnosis and ethnicity, as many strangers curiously ask), Bodie, now nine, is the resident grumpy old man of the family who likes nothing and would definitely order you to vacate his lawn. 

But he also has the most beautiful blue eyes with Brushfield spots (the white, gray, or brown spots spaced around the periphery of the iris). He’s a total daddy’s boy who delights in his rubber ducky collection (an Elvis, FDNY firefighter and Buckingham Palace beefeater among them). And he and Pasha both are the best cuddle bugs in Michigan, where the family now resides. 

“The first few years were surprisingly calm and easy. A little more work, but easy,” Hope recalls. “We have had behaviors we've had to overcome and it took time.” 

Time has also provided the opportunity to see their adoptions for what they really are: the grafting of two broken, flawed individuals who still have purposes, potential and dreams into a broken, flawed family. Sixteen-year-old Pasha, for example, is now 90 pounds and a Special Olympics bowler. 

“We’ve celebrated big accomplishments, but we’ve had some real lows, too,” Hope says. “I never, ever try to make it seem like we live in Happy Land, but people just don’t know.” 

At least until she tells them, that is. So Hope does, sharing with those who ask what international special needs adoption really looks like. 

“We are happy, but we have to struggle most days in order to hold onto it,” Hope says. “My husband and I both believe we are the family God intended us to be, and we take great care to keep that at the center of our attention, even in the tough moments.” 

Yet another truth for which she isn’t apologizing.