WAIT is a Four Letter Word

WAIT.

Wait a minute. Wait a little while. Wait.

Friday in Ethiopia came and went. A decision was made. Or maybe it wasn't. We don't know. There was no communication from the Ethiopia staff.

So we wait. Wait again. Wait until Monday.

WAIT.

Friday

Friday has always been one of my favorite days. Its an ending and a beginning all in one. Its something to look forward to. Its a mantra to get you through the week. "If I can only make it until Friday."

This week the anticipation of Friday takes on a whole new meaning. We are not just waiting for the end of a work week. We are waiting for the end of waiting, the end of the unknown. Its not just the beginning of the weekend, it is the day we find out the next step in our journey.

If only I can make it until Friday.

On Friday, the ministry in Ethiopia will make a decision on our case. They will decide if the copied documents are enough to proceed or if they need to have the new originals which are in transit. Friday could mean we will get to travel soon. Friday could also mean we might have to wait a little longer. But on Friday a decision will be made. We will know our fate.

If only I can make it until Friday.

Friday in Ethiopia is tonight here. Its only hours away.

If only I can make it until Friday.

My Heart

My heart beats lub dub, lub dub, click.

The click was thrown in the mix just to remind me its not perfect, that I'm not perfect. Its the little imperfection, that I once thought would be the end of me, that has made me stronger more aware.

My heart beats lub dub, lub dub, click.

It beats for a little girl, a little girl I first held in my arms 3 1/2 years ago. I missed the first 9 months of her life. I never heard her heart beat in the womb. I missed her first breath. Even with all the time I missed, the love I felt for her was growing in my heart. I felt her with me. I felt her heart beating with mine. Lub dub. Lub dub. Click.

Since that day, my heart has grown stronger with the love I feel for her. Lub dub. Lub dub. Click.

My heart beats lub dub, lub dub, click.

It beats for a little boy who I have yet to meet, a boy I have yet to hold in my arms. I've missed the first 14 months of his life. I never heard his heart beat in the womb. I missed his first breath. I never saw him crawl. I missed his first steps. I did not hear his first word. Even with all the time I've missed, the love I feel for him is growing in my heart. I feel him with me. I feel his heart beating with mine. Lub dub. Lub dub. Click.

Despite the pain of waiting, my heart will not break. It will continue beating. It is strengthened by the hearts of two wonderful children.

My heart beats lub dub, lub dub, click.

Paper Dolls

One piece of paper.

One small piece of paper.

In the adoption game, paper is everything. You need paper proof of your birth, your marriage, your health, your finances, your background, your fitness to be a parent. Your life is neatly summarized into a pile of paper.



You are judged on that paper. Are you good enough to be a parent? What do the papers say?

Paper can make or break you.

Your child is referred to you based on the paper you.

The ministry approves the referral based on the paper you and adds one more piece of paper to the mix.

The court finalizes the adoption based on the paper you and the ministry's approval.

Travel is approved based on the paper you, the ministry's approval and the court's finalization.

You can then finally hold your child in your arms while you wait for the final piece of paper to be issued, a visa allowing him to come home to America.

Paper is everything. The paper trail you build leads to your child. If everything goes smoothly, the paper trail is easy to walk. It takes time but there is an ending point on the paper trail.

Paper is everything. Every piece of paper is important. If one piece of paper is missing or misplaced, this paper trail becomes a roller coaster ride.

If a piece of paper is missing, your court case gets adjourned one, maybe two times.

If your name is erroneously put on a piece of paper you are informed you passed court when you did not. You are so high.

When the paper error is discovered, you come careening back towards earth at 100 miles per hour.

When the misplaced paper is found, you are notified that you have passed court. Your travel is approved. You have climbed so, so very high.

When a piece of paper goes missing, maybe the same one, maybe another, the ministry refuses to issue a birth certificate or a passport for your child. Your travel is revoked. Your euphoria is gone. You only have the terror of crashing back to earth.

Paper is everything.

One little piece of paper can unite you with your child.

One little piece of paper can keep you from holding your child in your arms.

One little piece of paper can break your heart into a million pieces.

(About two hours after I published my last post about bringing Lion home, we were informed that another piece of paper had gone missing and that our travel had been revoked. We will not be leaving in two weeks. We do not know when we can see our son.)

Blink

This morning I woke up and I was sure we were going to get good news. I was sure that our agency was going to tell us we had been placed in the April travel group. I was sure we would see Lion soon.

The sun was shining. The air was warm with that early spring feel. This was going to be a good day, I just knew it.

I had toyed with the idea of going to the gym to work out. When I felt the warm air, I had other ideas. I knew this would be the perfect opportunity to go to the zoo. Perfect to spend time with my Bunny, to remember what it was like when it was just the two of us. When she was my only and I was hers alone.

As I got ready to go to the zoo for our adventure, I put on my watch, earrings and wedding ring just as I do every morning. I also grabbed a small stone from my night stand. It is round and smooth. It has the names of my children Bunny and Lion written on in. I placed the stone in my pocket as I do every morning. The stone is small enough that I don't notice it. But occasionally I will feel its weight, I will touch it when I place my hand in my pocket. The weight, the touch remind me that everything I do is for my children. It reminds me to move forward, to do what is best, to love, to laugh even when I don't want to.

Along with my stone, I took a small elastic band and placed it on my wrist. It has a silver bar with the word positivity engraved on it. This band was given to me by a friend. I am supposed to snap it when I feel a negative thought. It is supposed to break the cycle of negativity and help me focus on all the good in my life.

I have always tended to dwell on the negative. I am a glass half empty kind of girl. I don't want to be, I just am. There have been times when the negativity, the darkness threatened to swallow me. The darkness was my companion, my lover. It would whisper things in my ear, terrible things I did not want to hear. "You do not deserve to be happy. This is not for you. Just give up, you would fail anyways." I would listen and I would believe.

One day, I decided I had had enough. I began to fight the darkness, the negativity. I started to win. I saw beauty where I had only seen a void before. Things were brighter. I felt things more truly. And then my friend gave me this band. She did not know where I had been, she only knew that this would help.

I carry my rock and my band with me everywhere. They remind me of what is important. They remind me to focus on the good, on the now. The good and the now, a little girl in a riot of pinks and purples running and laughing. Just her and me, together. That is what is real.

Today, this morning, I felt all of the beauty in life. I saw only potential. I saw the positive. I will carry this morning in my heart forever.






The morning was beautiful but the afternoon had other ideas. It brought my old lover to the door with a bouquet of flowers and a smile begging for forgiveness. "Please take me back" he whispered. "I am the only one who understands you. You need me. You know you do."

The afternoon brought a phone call from our agency. I was expecting a call. I was expecting good news. I was wrong. I had thought we had passed court, that we could travel soon. I found out that the staff in Ethiopia had mistakenly informed our agency that we had passed. We had not. Our case had been postponed and postponed again. It was now scheduled for the 26th.

I felt a white hot anger rising within me. I heard the woman on the phone telling me things, things I could not comprehend. The words were just noise. My lover stood nearby, whispering in my ear "come my love, I am here for you". I was ready to give in. I was tired of fighting, tired of waiting. Good things don't happen to me. Yes, I said to the darkness. I am yours.

In that moment, when all seemed lost, I felt a blast of cold, wet air on my face. It startled me back to reality. I felt it again and again. My daughter, my true love, was sitting in my lap blowing raspberries three inches from my nose and laughing. The laughter rang out bright and true. This is what was important.

I heard the woman on the phone say we are working for you. If your case passes court, we will do everything we can to get you in to the April group. We will get you to your son as soon as possible. I thanked her for all that she was doing and I hung up.

I had received terrible. devastating news but I did not cry. I could not cry in front of Bunny. It would not solve anything. I stayed strong. I focused on her, on the here and the now. We put on our coats and ran back out into the sunshine. We laughed and played.

I did not cry.

I would not cry.

(But I did develop a rather nasty looking red welt on my wrist from snapping my positivity band)

What Its Like

Imagine you and your spouse decide you want to have children. You are so excited for the possibility. You can't help but wonder what he or she will be like.

Then you get pregnant. A baby is on its way to you. You only have to wait a few months. You excitedly tell your family and a few close friends your wonderful news. They are happy for you.

You go to your first doctor's appointment and the doctor starts grilling you with questions. What is your background? How were you raised? How stable is your marriage? Do you agree on parenting philosophies? After the questioning, your doctor hands you a piece of paper. I need you to gather all of this information for me by our next appointment.

You look at what is written. You need to complete background checks from your local police department. The state has to sign off on your parenting application. You need to gather birth certificates and marriage certificates. You also need to be fingerprinted by the federal government.

Your doctor asks if you understand all of the requirements to have a baby. You look at your husband questioningly. No one you know has ever had to do this to have a baby. Is this right? Your husband shrugs his shoulders as if to say, if that's what we need to do, then we'll do it. You look at the doctor and say yes.

Great, says the doctor. I will see you in two weeks at your home. I must inspect it to see if its a proper home to raise a child in. Inspect your house?!? Oh my goodness. You spend the next few weeks on your hands and knees and standing on stools to reach every nook and cranny. Your house has to be perfect.

After you pass home inspection and the other checks, you start to feel more confident. You feel the baby growing inside of you. You begin to tell others about your child. You pat your belly and say, we are expecting a baby. People look at you strangely and nod. Great, they say. Congratulations.

Finally your doctor calls. He says, congratulations, you've been approved to have your baby. You've been approved! Hallelujah! You can have your baby,

Its time. You and your husband rush to the hospital to have the baby. You are both so excited. You are ushered into a room alone. You look for your husband but he is not there. In fact he is at work, in a meeting. You look around. This is not the hospital.

This is your house. You are in the laundry room or the kitchen. The phone rings. A voice on the other end says "Congratulations. Its a boy." A boy. You have a boy. You ask when you can see your son. The voice says check your e-mail, I'm sending you a picture.

A picture? But this is your son. When do you get to hold him? Relax, the voice says. He is fine. He is in a care center. We are taking care of him for you. We will let you know when its okay for you to see him. But, you say, he's my son. Well, no he's not your son, not yet. Your approval isn't final.

So you hold on to the picture and the basic medical information they send you. Its all the proof you have that your son is alive somewhere. You wait. You wait some more. But you don't hear any new news.

You begin to wonder if it was real. Do you really have a son.? Was he really growing inside you? Yes he was, but he was only growing in your heart, not your body. He is yours, but not yours. Wait they say. Everything will all be okay. You just need to be patient.

Finally some news. New pictures and updated medical information. But wait what do these numbers mean? Is he sick? Is he anemic? Is there a problem? Can you retest? No, the answer comes. We cannot. You will have to wait.

So you wait some more. Finally they send another email to let you know that you are going to court. However, you cannot be in court. You cannot plead your case. Someone you have never met will do it for you. So you wait and hope.

You find out a piece of paper was misplaced. Your case was not heard. It was rescheduled. You must wait again.

Your court date comes and goes. Still there is no word. Finally the answer comes. He is your son. Its official. You are legally the parents of this boy.

But you can't bring him home yet. You have to wait for someone else to tell you its okay. So you wait. And you wait some more.

Travel dates are announced. Your name is not called. You wait again.

A new set of travel dates are announced. Sorry, they say. We cannot receive you at this time. You must wait. Wait until April. You will see your son sometime in April. We think.

You think? How can you not know. He is my child. A piece of paper from some court says so. He is legally my responsibility.

I did everything you said. I waited for over nine months to find out it was a boy. I waited for another five months to find out he was really mine. I don't know if he is crawling or walking. I don't know if he is healthy or if he is sick. I don't know anything about this boy, my son.

I have a son. I have a son and you won't let me see him. Why? He is mine. I love him. I have loved him from the moment he was a possibility. I loved him when I saw his picture. And I have loved him every day since.

The answer comes, sorry. That is just the way it is. You have to wait.

And so you do. You wait. Your heart is broken in 7,000 pieces, one piece for every mile that separates you. But you wait like a good girl.

It will happen. Everyone tells you that. You know it is true. But just because they say it does not make the pain any less. It does not glue your heart back together. It does not place your child into your arms any faster.

You have a child out there somewhere in the world and you will not be whole until he is in your arms.

That is what adoption is like.

Cross Your Fingers

Today is our court date. Its probably over by now given the time difference but I'd appreciate it if you all sent good thoughts and vibes our way.

Thanks

Mommy, We Are One Step Closer

One step closer. One step closer to completing our family. One step closer to being together.

We are one step closer to Lion.

Last week several families in our agency received court dates. Some of them had the same paperwork dates as us. I knew we were next. I could feel it. So I did what any "sane" and "rational" person would do, I stalked my e-mail.

The first few days, I was refreshing my e-mail every 5 or 10 minutes between the hours of 10 and 7. I just had to know if we'd gotten a court date. I was making myself crazy. I carried my phone in my hand. My beloved I-phone which I once viewed as a life line, a way to reach out to my friends, was now the enemy. I had instant access to my e-mail and I wanted an answer instantly.

I had to take a step back. I told myself I could only check every half hour. That was saner, more rational. I had to actually live the life I had instead of putting it on hold for the one I wanted. Still there was no word. Then the weekend came, two whole days with no possibility of news. How would I survive?

Lucky for me, this week was much busier with school, dentist appointments and the like. There was less time to obsess, there were more distractions. Sometimes I would forget to check my e-mail for a whole hour. Two days passed and no news.

Yesterday, I ran to the store, picked Bunny up from preschool and then made lunch. I hadn't checked my e-mail in over two hours when I sat down to eat. As I waded through the junk in my inbox, I resigned myself that there would be no news.

But there it was, an e-mail from our agency saying we have a court date scheduled for February 12th. Holy moley that is next Friday. I let out an excited yell and explained what happened to Bunny.

She looked at me with a solemn face and said "Mommy, we are one step closer to Lion".
Yes, sweetie we are one step closer to bringing him home.
Then she said "Good, I want him home. Can I have fruit snacks after lunch? Lion can't eat fruit snacks, he's just a baby."

So what does this all mean in the grand scheme of things?

A court date is held in the Ethiopian court and our representative in Ethiopia appears on our behalf. Assuming the court hears our case and everything is in order, we will pass and Lion will be legally our son. The adoption will be finalized in Ethiopia.

We will then wait for the US Embassy in Addis to issue a date for a Visa interview. Our agency generally has two dates a month, one around the 9th or 10th and one around the 23rd or 24th. The Visa date is very important. Our travel is built around that date. We will go a few days earlier to get our precious little Lion. We will travel to his home province and meet his birth father. And finally after the Visa has been issued, we can bring him home.

Assuming things continue as they have in the past we could travel in the first group in March. Most likely it will be the second.

I've always heard March can come in or go out like a Lion and now it will for us.

And Now The Wait Really Begins

Waiting, waiting and more waiting. That seems like all I've been doing and all I've been talking about. Waiting.

We are now officially waiting. We are waiting for a court date. Waiting for a court date that will finalize our adoption in Ethiopia. Waiting to pass court so we can get a visa date with the US Embassy. Waiting to get a visa date so we can schedule our travel. Waiting to schedule our travel so we can bring Lion home.

We are so tantalizingly close that I can taste it. I can visualize it actually happening. I can imagine what it will feel like to hold him in my arms, to touch his face, to tell him I am his mother.

This waiting is different. It has purpose. This waiting will actually result in me bringing my son home.

Ruby Slippers

Ruby slippers are magic. Everyone knows that. If you click your heels three times, you can leave the world you thought you wanted but really didn't. Three clicks of those ruby slippers and you can be magically transported to the safety and security of home.

If I had ruby slippers, I would go clickety, clickety, click in hopes of getting out of my funk. Click. Click. Click. I would fast forward time to skip this winter of waiting. Click. Click. Click. Now its spring and I am full of hope. Click. Click. Click. Now I am holding my son. Click. Click. Click. Now I am home. Click. Click. Click. Now our home is complete.

But alas I do not have ruby slippers. I am destined to wander down this yellow brick road, wherever it may lead. I am the Cowardly Lion, often scared of my own shadow. I am the Tin Man, my heart is missing a piece. I am the Scarecrow, my brain has left me. I am Dorothy, looking for my home.

Ruby slippers are magic. There is a little girl with ruby slippers. She is dancing, singing and twirling. She holds out her hand for me to join her. I take it and the magic envelops me. I know that if I follow her lead down this yellow brick road, I will find everything I need.

Waiting Is the Hardest Part

I waited 37 years to become a mother.

I waited 10 years to become a mother.

I "officially" waited 13 months to become a mother.

And then I waited 2 months more to meet my child.

The wait was hard. The wait was long. The wait was difficult.

However, in a way, the official wait was also easy. Once we had decided to adopt a child, I knew I was going to become a mother. There was a child waiting for me a the end of this road. I had not had that certainty before.

I had to jump through hoops but my life really didn't change all that much. I went to work, I hung out with friends, Frink and I traveled a bit. We did the same things we would have done even if we weren't adopting. We were waiting to be parents of a non-existent, hypothetical child but we were also living our lives as a married couple with two incomes and no children.

One phone call changed that all. We got the official word that we were parents. There was a child, a little girl, waiting for us on the other side of the world. Once I heard that and saw her picture I was done. My life as I knew it was over and my life as a parent began.

Well it was ready to begin, I just had to wait a little bit longer. Two months. The longest two months of my life. Eight weeks. Sixty days. An eternity. Forever spent staring at that picture, the picture of my child.

Then, finally, I was a parent. The next three years were a blur of activity, laughter, sleepless nights and joy. It was every thing I had imagined and more.

Even though we were happy, we knew our family wasn't complete. There was one more child, out there somewhere, waiting for us. Or maybe he wasn't out there yet and we had to wait for him. We began the process and began to wait once more.

We made the decision to move forward last fall but had some false starts. We started again this year. We could have finished the process earlier but I always held off. I was waiting for something, I didn't know exactly what, but I was waiting.

I was waiting for something to push me forward. I was waiting for a phone call, THE phone call. The phone call that said you are a mother. I finally knew that there is a little boy waiting for me on the other side of the world. And I knew why I had been waiting, I was waiting for him. Once I heard that and saw his picture I was done. My life as a parent of two children began.

Well it was ready to begin, I just had to wait a little bit more. WAIT. I had to finish some paperwork on my end. WAIT. We have to get a court date in Ethiopia and pass court. WAIT. We have to get a visa appointment with the American embassy. WAIT. We have to get travel dates. WAIT. We have to wait an unspecified amount of time for someone half a world away to tell me its time.

The wait this time is excruciating. I have his picture. I love him. I am his mother. However, I have to wait to hold him in my arms. And that is the hardest part.

Knocked Up

When I was in high school and college, I knew some girls who got knocked up. Almost to a one they said it involved drinking copious amounts of alcohol, losing their inhibitions and "having some fun."

I too am expecting a baby but my story is not like that. There is no fun. And there are a whole lot more people involved.

We've begun what is called in the adoption game, the paperchase phase. And just like the book The Paperchase about law school, there is a whole lot of stress and work involved.

Our social worker runs a background check on Bubs and I, asking the state and local authorities for any dirt they might turn up. They check 5 references.

We have the home study. A social worker meets with Bubs and I together and separately. They ask us all about our past, how we were raised, what our parenting style is, and do we have any skeletons in our closets.

Then they come to our home and "inspect" it. They say they don't use a white glove to check for dust but it sure feels like it. Our home must meet certain criteria laid out by the state before we can have a child placed in our home.

Once we are done being poked and prodded, we have to be poked and prodded some more. This time by a doctor.

We also have to do a complete financial disclosure. We have to compile our birth certificates, marriage licenses, copies of our last three federal tax returns. All of these documents must be notarized and then sent to the Secretary of State and certified.

After they've looked under the hood and kicked the tires a few times, the social worker puts all of this together to compile our home study report. Which we then have to send to the State and the Feds for approval. We also have to be fingerprinted. And once the State and Feds have given their approval, our dossier is sent to our agency to be translated.

After all of this, which could take a few months, the dossier is sent to Ethiopia. And that is when we are officially expecting a referral for a baby. Officially knocked up.

And then we wait some more.

The First Time I Ever Saw You

Most parents get to know their babies over the course of nine months. They get to feel the baby kick and see her growing inside the mother.

When you are an adoptive parent, you miss out on that. You prepare documents, you put your life on display for a social worker, you get fingerprinted and you place all your hopes and dreams in the hands of people you've never met. And then you wait and wait and wait some more. You wait for your referral. Notification that a child that has been chosen for you.

This is the story of Bunny's referral.

We decided to adopt in the fall of 2004. We researched our options looking at both domestic and international adoption. Finally after a lot of discussions and debates, we decided to adopt from China.

We began the process formally in January 2005. We chose an international agency who would work directly with China and we chose a local agency who would conduct our homestudy. We also had to compile a dossier, which is basically a bunch of documents that accompany your homestudy. The documents had to be notarized. The notarization had to be certified by the Secretary of State. The certification had to be authenticated by the Chinese Consulate. Then everything has to be translated into Chinese.

Because I wasn't that organized, the process took over six months. Our paperwork was sent to China in July and logged into their system on July 23, 2005. Then the waiting began. At the time our paperwork was logged in, the wait was 9 months. But as these things happen, the wait time increased.

Every month I would check the agency's websited to see when the new round of referrals were coming. And every month I would be disappointed. In August 2006, I saw that the referrals were going to be for all families logged in on or before July 22, 2005. We were going to have to wait one more month, we'd missed the cut off by one day.

Or that is what I thought.

On August 28, 2006 I was sitting at my desk working. Then the phone rang. I answered it like anyother call, "This is Renee. How may I help you?" A woman on the other end told me that we had our referral. We were parents to a little girl.

She asked if I wanted to conference Bubs in so he could hear the news but he was in a meeting and I couldn't find him. Then she said she could call back. Call back are you crazy, I needed to know everything right then.

She told me everything she knew about the baby, which frankly wasn't that much. She lived in the YiHuang Social Welfare Institute in Jiangxi China. She went into the orphanage when she was approximately 1 week old and she had spent most of her life living with foster parents. At the time of referral she was 7 months old.



I couldn't believe it, our "Non-Existant Hypothetical Baby" really existed. She was our little Bunny. They e-mailed pictures and I saw this beautiful little girl with a heart shaped face and a rosebud mouth. I just sat there and cried. Then I realized I had to go find Bubs. I ran next door to his office but he was still gone. I finally busted into his meeting (with his boss) and dragged him upstairs to see the pictures. Needless to say he was beside himself.

We had waited for so long for some proof that there was a child at the end of this process. We'd waited for 21 months since officially beginning the process (that is almost as long as it would take to gestate an elephant). And we finally got to see our baby. We got to study, to memorize the lines of her face. We finally had something to show others, "See this picture. This is my daughter."

My daughter. Wow.

We wanted to hop on the next plane to China to bring her home. But again we had to wait for another round of approvals. We got our clearance to travel and set out to meet her in October. We were finally united as a family on October 30, 2006.