Harold Laflamme

Except for the clatter of helicopters approaching the Tustin Marine Corps Air Station nearby, the world surrounding tiny Christopher Michael Calvert is a soothing lullaby. From his crib in a house on a safe cul-de-sac, the 4-month-old can see a leafy tract neighborhood beyond the backyard swimming pool. Cooed over by Crispina Calvert's family, the baby has almost too many loving relatives to count.

A father who shot and wounded himself when he and his wife were having marital troubles five years ago. A grandmother. A foster home of strangers. Over the next few weeks, social workers, judges, attorneys and therapists must decide which of these options is the best temporary refuge for a 10-year-old boy who was removed from the Orange home of his aunt, 31-year-old Cynthia Medina, last month.

To infertile couples, the Johnson v. Calvert decision promises brave new babies created in petri dishes, incubated in hired wombs and handed over to their genetic parents--all under the protection of the law. To surrogation foes, the decision heralds "a modern version of reproductive slavery" in which poor women will become "breeders" for rich couples. But to surrogate mother Anna L.

An Orange County Superior Court judge Thursday rejected recommendations from court-appointed experts and granted joint custody of a 15-month-old girl to a surrogate mother and the child's biological father. In what is believed to be the first decision of its kind, Superior Court Judge Nancy Wieben Stock said surrogate Elvira Jordan deserved to share custody of the child she bore through artificial insemination for Robert and Cynthia Moschetta.

Called unexpectedly to work late one evening, Michiko Kamiyama searched in vain for a baby-sitter for her 8-year-old daughter before grappling with a decision that bedevils countless working parents. In the end, she left the girl alone in the home. It turned out to be the wrong choice. Huntington Beach police took her daughter away that night, and Kamiyama, a widow who works as a singer and a waitress, was convicted of misdemeanor child abuse. She spent more than three months in jail.

His eyes wide open but empty, baby Christopher lies in a stainless-steel crib, plastic tubes twisting from bedside machines into holes in his throat and belly. On some days, his body twitches slightly. But for the most part, ever since being rushed to the hospital one week before Christmas, Christopher has lain motionless under rows of fluorescent lights, relying on machines to feed him and fill his tiny lungs with oxygen.

The rules at the Orangewood Children's Home are strict, detailed and comprehensive, covering everything from the use of playground equipment to the length of time allotted for children to choose their clothing (five minutes). Girls are not allowed to wear jewelry, except that with religious significance, and may not use the telephone without permission. Children are forbidden to receive candy or stuffed animals from visitors, and their calls and visits may be monitored.

Eight years after her 3-year-old son disappeared, the boy's mother traced him to Orange County. But the relief she felt at hearing last fall that he was alive has been all but overshadowed by anger and disbelief. For the boy, now 11, has been adopted, with the county's approval, and officials refuse to provide any information on his whereabouts. "When that woman (a government worker in Nashville, Tenn.

It seemed too outrageous to be true: The Orange County Social Services Agency had taken a 4-year-old boy from his parents simply because their house was too messy, and an appeals court--to remedy the appalling error--was returning the child to his parents. In reversing a lower court decision, the 4th District Court of Appeal in Santa Ana said that "an exposed light socket" and other "trivial" housekeeping deficiencies were not enough to remove the child from his home.

The couple had been foster parents for the baby born addicted to drugs. Now they wanted to adopt him, but were worried about possible medical problems--and big bills--in later years. "You can't bring him back like a Mercedes," lawyer Harold LaFlamme warned them in a Juvenile Court corridor. He said later that, as he spoke, he wondered if he could "rely on these parents to adopt the kid," or whether he should take the boy away now and give him to another couple waiting to adopt a child.