I meant to write this nice long post full of pictures about how we spent the day before we left Bulgaria in the country's capitol, Sofia, and how we had excellent hosts who took us to church and lead us on a tour of the entire city, I think. It felt like that anyway.
I meant to write a post about our last visit with Ivan and how it absolutely destroyed us to leave him knowing it would be 4 to 6 months before we would see him again (if at all. no one can know how court will go.)
I meant to write about how our trip happened in November and we finally had court scheduled for December 6th. I meant to write about how our court was delayed due to paperwork issues on their end and how we sat for another ten days in limbo praying. I meant to write about what a relief it was to wake up December 17th and hear that we had passed court and that we had another son. How awesome it was to know Ivan finally had a family to grow up in.
I meant to write about all that. I really did.
But right now we are staring at leaving for our pick up trip in 5 days.
We will have Ivan in our hands in 7 days.
and I'm a little bit panicked.
Excited.
Thrilled.
Scared.
Anxious.
Mostly, though, we're just packing and praying.
Packing and praying and trying not to think about it.
Oh.
Oh, this is feeling very REAL all of the sudden.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Monday, January 6, 2014
Chilling with the Translator
Our attendant was an adorable young lady and we were her first family to assist. She was pretty fluent in English, textbook style, or at least British style. I found myself trying to explain words or phrases only a few times. Mostly, we conversed freely. And she was very sweet.
Because Ivan displays some very classic signs of Autism, Charlie and I spent good chunks of our visits discussing his behavior. We would openly talk about his lack of eye contact. We would comment on his stymieing. We would wonder aloud about what a particular behavior or action would be providing him with.
"I wish I knew what that swaying dance does for him."
"I wonder if this is a self soothing behavior or a stimulative one?"
"What do you think he gets out of that?"
"Has he made unprompted eye contact with you, yet?" (The answer was no. Always, no. He did not make unprompted eye contact.)
Our attendant actually became worried that we weren't interested in continuing the adoption. I laugh really hard here every time I think of this because WE WERE SO INTERESTED IN THAT KID IT WASN'T EVEN FUNNY. She just didn't understand where we were coming from in our banter about him. We were filing away his every little tick to research later. We were documenting his every shift and sway and hop while thinking of a dozen different ways we could incorporate stimulating activities into his day at home.
"I wish I knew what that swaying dance does for him." Was our minds racing with thoughts like "I bet he'd love the swings in the back yard." and "Maybe he'd enjoy gymnastics?" and "I hope you can learn to appreciate dubstep because Mommy's gonna be dancing with you at home, kiddo."
She couldn't get over how excited we were over every little thing he did. He would do something new and Charlie and I would exchange a look of "DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!" and her face would fall a little and show concern that we were losing interest when the reality was that we were thrilled.
Over lunch one day, I remember discussing with Charlie that I'd love to witness Ivan have a meltdown in the safety and security of the orphanage. I'd wanted to see what his anger or upset looked like and to see how the staff worked with him. Our attendant looked horrified, "Why would you want to see that?"
"I'd like to see it so I can have an idea how to help him."
"But you would not... provoke him?" She asked, still shocked.
"NO. No, no. I don't want to provoke a tantrum. It would just be nice if he happens to have one where we can witness it."
I'm still not sure if she understood. We did, in fact, get a glimpse of a tantrum while we were there. Ivan didn't understand what was going on the night the staff let us feed him dinner. We'd asked if we could stay for his dinner time and watch (from the visitation room) how they managed meals. We had hoped to see how he eats and how the staff handles him during a meal. Instead, they offered to let us feed him. He'd already left the visitation room and was seated at the table, though. He knew it was dinner time. Then a staff person collected him and lead him back to the visitation room. He began crying and fighting against her because, the poor kid, he wanted dinner. He did not want to visit. The lady explained to him that he was having dinner in the visitation room and he was fine but Charlie and I both had a "Well, that was a tame tantrum but it was nice to see it." chat afterward. Our attendant asked about it and I remember telling her that it's very good to know that he can be talked out of a fit like that.
Our translator made the trip much easier. Because we were in a touristy area where the majority of people have some functional English, we could have probably managed on our own. We were able to get groceries and dine out and be tourists fairly well on our own. However, our attendant was fun and peppy and willing to do just about anything we suggested. She managed the taxi rides to and from the orphanage each day. She would order for us in a restaurant that didn't have picture menus. (There is one dish that is popular there called the "Shopska" salad. I know I like this dish and it's easy to find on a Bulgarian menu because it looks like "WONKA" in English. The missionary family had a hearty laugh when I asked for the 'Wonka' salad when we ate with them. ha!)
Our translator handled all our interaction with any orphanage staff. She made it possible for us to gather information from Ivan's Baba. She also made sure we were fully informed about any paperwork that we signed while we were there.
Also, she was just a pleasant person and by the end of the week, I think she may have understood that we were actually very excited about Ivan even if she didn't understand why.
Because Ivan displays some very classic signs of Autism, Charlie and I spent good chunks of our visits discussing his behavior. We would openly talk about his lack of eye contact. We would comment on his stymieing. We would wonder aloud about what a particular behavior or action would be providing him with.
"I wish I knew what that swaying dance does for him."
"I wonder if this is a self soothing behavior or a stimulative one?"
"What do you think he gets out of that?"
"Has he made unprompted eye contact with you, yet?" (The answer was no. Always, no. He did not make unprompted eye contact.)
Our attendant actually became worried that we weren't interested in continuing the adoption. I laugh really hard here every time I think of this because WE WERE SO INTERESTED IN THAT KID IT WASN'T EVEN FUNNY. She just didn't understand where we were coming from in our banter about him. We were filing away his every little tick to research later. We were documenting his every shift and sway and hop while thinking of a dozen different ways we could incorporate stimulating activities into his day at home.
"I wish I knew what that swaying dance does for him." Was our minds racing with thoughts like "I bet he'd love the swings in the back yard." and "Maybe he'd enjoy gymnastics?" and "I hope you can learn to appreciate dubstep because Mommy's gonna be dancing with you at home, kiddo."
She couldn't get over how excited we were over every little thing he did. He would do something new and Charlie and I would exchange a look of "DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!" and her face would fall a little and show concern that we were losing interest when the reality was that we were thrilled.
Over lunch one day, I remember discussing with Charlie that I'd love to witness Ivan have a meltdown in the safety and security of the orphanage. I'd wanted to see what his anger or upset looked like and to see how the staff worked with him. Our attendant looked horrified, "Why would you want to see that?"
"I'd like to see it so I can have an idea how to help him."
"But you would not... provoke him?" She asked, still shocked.
"NO. No, no. I don't want to provoke a tantrum. It would just be nice if he happens to have one where we can witness it."
I'm still not sure if she understood. We did, in fact, get a glimpse of a tantrum while we were there. Ivan didn't understand what was going on the night the staff let us feed him dinner. We'd asked if we could stay for his dinner time and watch (from the visitation room) how they managed meals. We had hoped to see how he eats and how the staff handles him during a meal. Instead, they offered to let us feed him. He'd already left the visitation room and was seated at the table, though. He knew it was dinner time. Then a staff person collected him and lead him back to the visitation room. He began crying and fighting against her because, the poor kid, he wanted dinner. He did not want to visit. The lady explained to him that he was having dinner in the visitation room and he was fine but Charlie and I both had a "Well, that was a tame tantrum but it was nice to see it." chat afterward. Our attendant asked about it and I remember telling her that it's very good to know that he can be talked out of a fit like that.
Our translator made the trip much easier. Because we were in a touristy area where the majority of people have some functional English, we could have probably managed on our own. We were able to get groceries and dine out and be tourists fairly well on our own. However, our attendant was fun and peppy and willing to do just about anything we suggested. She managed the taxi rides to and from the orphanage each day. She would order for us in a restaurant that didn't have picture menus. (There is one dish that is popular there called the "Shopska" salad. I know I like this dish and it's easy to find on a Bulgarian menu because it looks like "WONKA" in English. The missionary family had a hearty laugh when I asked for the 'Wonka' salad when we ate with them. ha!)
Our translator handled all our interaction with any orphanage staff. She made it possible for us to gather information from Ivan's Baba. She also made sure we were fully informed about any paperwork that we signed while we were there.
Also, she was just a pleasant person and by the end of the week, I think she may have understood that we were actually very excited about Ivan even if she didn't understand why.
Friday, January 3, 2014
The visits
It's no surprise that the children at the orphanage have a highly structured day. Our visits were worked to fall within the confines of that structure, and even so, we still interfered with Ivan's routine but he didn't seem to mind. Every morning, we came in at 8 to visit in the tiny toy stuffed room until noon. We were visiting between Ivan's breakfast and lunch. He was easy to entertain and we spent some time allowing him to just be so we could watch him and see how he self soothes and stymies. His Baba came in for a little while during a few of our visits. We were able to glean a wealth of information from her through our translator and also by watching her interact with Ivan. It is a joy within my very soul to know that she has been loving him for the last two years. She loves ON him. She holds him and pets him and rocks him. She sings to him. She speaks to him, constantly. She teaches him and plays with him. She is a blessing to Ivan and to our family.
At noon, a staff person would collect Ivan from the visitation room and he would happily trot along side her back to his "home" room to have lunch and nap. He had no issues what so ever transitioning from one room to another, or from visiting with us to returning to his home room, or from leaving his home room to visit with us. He transitioned very well from each activity.
In the afternoons, we visited in a play therapy room that gave us a clear view of Ivan's home room. It is set up like a little apartment where he and 15 or so other children all reside with a rotation of staff present. The children play, eat, watch tv, everything within this little apartment like set up. It is a home like environment and they are making a true honest effort to provide the children with as close to a "normal" home life as is possible in a facility.
It was sad for us, because all the children in the group could see us during our afternoon visits with Ivan. Even though we were tucked into another tiny room crammed full of toys, the entire room was walled in windows. It was nice to see the other children going through their routines but it was heartbreaking to see their little eyes watching us so sadly as we played with Ivan.
He enjoyed us for the most part, but the evening visits were harder on him. He got tired of us rather quickly in the afternoons and was beyond ready to return to the group by the end of the visits.
Apparently the weather was kind of chilly while we were there? It was October and the temps were about the same as what we were having at home so I was thrown by the way the locals were bundled up in snow gear when the weather was just ... overcast and in the low 60's. Charlie and I joked, "Maybe it is because we are fat Americans and don't feel the cold as much." But there were two or three nice days where the staff let us take Ivan outside to the orphanage playground. One day, we had to bundle him up in this coat that was two sizes too big and vibrantly purple and it suited his skin tone perfectly. He really does look lovely in purple, I'm not even joking. On another day we went out, he had a blue one. I think it was just whatever coat was handy when they were preparing him for us.
We were able to observe him in the play structures. Our Ivan is a bit... I get the feeling he is typically lead to a toy and told to play and then he just kind of ... It's hard to explain. Because Ivan is not a typical child, even by orphanage standards, it's difficult to gauge him. He had zero interest in playing outside until Charlie started putting him up on the slide and letting him slide down. He lit up like Christmas and the Fourth of July together.
(I'll need to post the video separately. I can't get it to load within this post.)
You can kind of tell from the video that Ivan is only vaguely interested in us, even. He is spontaneous and unpredictable. It's going to be so much fun getting to know him once he is home. I hope to look back on these videos and have a new understanding of how he was feeling when these were shot after I know him better.
We were able to take him out of the orphanage one day to get his passport photo taken. We also learned that he's been outside of the orphanage grounds before to attend swimming therapy and horseback riding therapy! What a blessing!! His Baba came with us to assist and I'm so thankful we were able to witness her interacting with Ivan during this special time. I learned so much just being able to watch her work with him. For the photo, Charlie stood behind Ivan, helping to balance him on the stool and his Baba stepped into the room to help get his attention and direct him to look at the camera. The photographer ended up capturing an absolutely stunning shot of our child. We now have a beautiful professional photo of our son for his freakin' passport. Thankfully, they let us have a digital copy.
They let us feed him dinner one night as well! His meal was a soup that my mother would have called "Goulash", a piece of plain white bread, and a cup of the watery yogurt that is popular to the area. He eats very slowly. We do know that he has the know how and ability to feed himself finger foods, though, since he would take pieces of bread that Charlie broke off and put them into his mouth. (!!!) This kid just spent the entire time we had with him blowing away all our expectations by being so very capable! I managed the spoon feeding him his soup and he was able to eat nearly the entire bowlful. I think he would have eaten it all but we ran out of time. All his room mates had finished their meals, had TV time, and were prepared for bed when a staff person came and let us know he needed to be finished now so he could be prepped for bedtime. I wonder how much weight he'll gain when he's able to eat until he is full and not just until he runs out of time.
At noon, a staff person would collect Ivan from the visitation room and he would happily trot along side her back to his "home" room to have lunch and nap. He had no issues what so ever transitioning from one room to another, or from visiting with us to returning to his home room, or from leaving his home room to visit with us. He transitioned very well from each activity.
In the afternoons, we visited in a play therapy room that gave us a clear view of Ivan's home room. It is set up like a little apartment where he and 15 or so other children all reside with a rotation of staff present. The children play, eat, watch tv, everything within this little apartment like set up. It is a home like environment and they are making a true honest effort to provide the children with as close to a "normal" home life as is possible in a facility.
It was sad for us, because all the children in the group could see us during our afternoon visits with Ivan. Even though we were tucked into another tiny room crammed full of toys, the entire room was walled in windows. It was nice to see the other children going through their routines but it was heartbreaking to see their little eyes watching us so sadly as we played with Ivan.
He enjoyed us for the most part, but the evening visits were harder on him. He got tired of us rather quickly in the afternoons and was beyond ready to return to the group by the end of the visits.
Apparently the weather was kind of chilly while we were there? It was October and the temps were about the same as what we were having at home so I was thrown by the way the locals were bundled up in snow gear when the weather was just ... overcast and in the low 60's. Charlie and I joked, "Maybe it is because we are fat Americans and don't feel the cold as much." But there were two or three nice days where the staff let us take Ivan outside to the orphanage playground. One day, we had to bundle him up in this coat that was two sizes too big and vibrantly purple and it suited his skin tone perfectly. He really does look lovely in purple, I'm not even joking. On another day we went out, he had a blue one. I think it was just whatever coat was handy when they were preparing him for us.
We were able to observe him in the play structures. Our Ivan is a bit... I get the feeling he is typically lead to a toy and told to play and then he just kind of ... It's hard to explain. Because Ivan is not a typical child, even by orphanage standards, it's difficult to gauge him. He had zero interest in playing outside until Charlie started putting him up on the slide and letting him slide down. He lit up like Christmas and the Fourth of July together.
(I'll need to post the video separately. I can't get it to load within this post.)
You can kind of tell from the video that Ivan is only vaguely interested in us, even. He is spontaneous and unpredictable. It's going to be so much fun getting to know him once he is home. I hope to look back on these videos and have a new understanding of how he was feeling when these were shot after I know him better.
We were able to take him out of the orphanage one day to get his passport photo taken. We also learned that he's been outside of the orphanage grounds before to attend swimming therapy and horseback riding therapy! What a blessing!! His Baba came with us to assist and I'm so thankful we were able to witness her interacting with Ivan during this special time. I learned so much just being able to watch her work with him. For the photo, Charlie stood behind Ivan, helping to balance him on the stool and his Baba stepped into the room to help get his attention and direct him to look at the camera. The photographer ended up capturing an absolutely stunning shot of our child. We now have a beautiful professional photo of our son for his freakin' passport. Thankfully, they let us have a digital copy.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
(HOPEFULLY SOON)
(NO REALLY SOON)
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
New Year, New Update
WOW. I'm so sorry! So much has happened and our lives got crazy and I just have neglected to update.
In October, we made the big trip over and were able to visit with The Child. The trip was, as EVERYONE assured me, no where near as scary as I was prepared for. The flights were long and uncomfortable. The layovers were weird and uncomfortable. The bathrooms in the airport in Paris are strange. Oh, yeah, and people speak French there, en masse. That made me laugh.
We arrived in Sofia, Bulgaria and met up with a missionary family who offered to let us stay with them for the time between our flights. We became acquainted with traditional Bulgarian bathrooms because I desperately needed a shower. Then we were amazingly rude and crashed on their son's bed and slept, hard, for a few hours. And they fed us pizza and helped us exchange our dollars into lev. It was so nice to be greeted by a familiar accent and their family is so sweet.
We hopped over to Burgas, where The Child is, and spent the weekend trying to acclimate to living in the future.
We slept.
We ate delicious fresh bread.
We went to put our toes into the Black Sea.
(I don't know who that guy is. Oops. Sorry, random Bulgarian man.)
Did I mention the wait was rather nervous?
We were nervous.
But when he strolled through the door, we were in love.
He came straight to me and fell into my arms, wrapped his arms around me and held on tight. He spent some of that first visit clinging to me or Charlie. He's a physical one.
(Now, this is skipping ahead in the story some, but I'm sharing his country, city and now his name and photo ONLY because he IS legally our son while I am writing this post.)
Allow me to introduce our son, Ivan Mycroft, in this shot Charlie caught of our first hug.
He was scared when we held him. He wanted to be held but he didn't trust us yet. He was happy. He was smiling and playful and allowed us to engage him. He allowed us to touch and hug him. He allowed us to play with him.
We were allowed to visit for a few hours in the morning then for about an hour and a half in the afternoon.
Each day allowed us to see Ivan experiencing different moods, displaying different behaviors, and let us gather just as much hands on information about him as possible.
He has receptive language (!!!!) and he follows directions easily and readily. He uses all his senses to learn about the world around him (which means things go into his mouth a lot, heh). He loves being held and touched and petted (on his own terms).
He seriously has the prettiest eyes, too.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
(HOPEFULLY SOON)
(NO, I PROMISE, SOON.)
Monday, September 16, 2013
Some Excitement and Some Dirty Dirty Truth
If by some small chance you hadn't caught our facebook updates:
We were issued our travel dates and will be in country in less than ten days.
After an entire year has passed since committing to The Child, it is strange to finally be taking this step.
After our home study, after our dossier, The Child's country completely fell apart this last spring. We should have traveled to meet him sometime in June, and when that timeline was tossed out the window, well.
I'm almost embarrassed to admit it but our little family sort of fell off the face of the earth. As much as everyone will say, "Oh, utilize your support system! Be active in your church family! Maintain friendships! Return calls! Bathe! Everyday!"
Sometimes that just isn't going to happen. It's all good advice, yes, but it didn't happen.
We haven't been to church in months. It isn't anything our church family has done. It's just me. I'm emotionally incapable of handling social situations right now. Since our initial time life fell apart, I fell apart with it. I haven't been utilizing my support system. I haven't been active in our church family. I haven't been maintaining friendships (sorry, guys. I do love you!). I haven't been returning phone calls and, No, I haven't been bathing every day.
Every day where we have been in limbo about The Child and the adoption, I've felt like I was in limbo within my own life.
It's been a form of depression where I've wrapped myself around my children and locked us up in our little house. I can't control The Child's country. I can control my living room. I can't control the in country agency. I can control my bed. I can't control the orphanage. I can control what I cook for dinner.
This isn't good and it might not be typical but it's been how I've been able to deal with the unknowns that have come up through our own adoption experience. I've wrapped up in my blanket of things that comfort me and make me feel safe and I've hidden away from everything else.
Not healthy?Possibly, but it's the healthiest way I could have handled this for myself.
Now, here we are, looking at boarding a plane and meeting our son in less than two weeks and I'm wrapping that blanket tighter.
I'm terrified of the travel, truth be told. I'm scared of being in a foreign country where I don't understand the language and I don't know anyone (except my husband, We are traveling together and that's honestly the only reason I'm not having a complete come apart right now.). I'm weirded out about eating foods that I don't know what might be in them. I'm scared to death about meeting The Child. What if he runs from us and screams? What if he's indifferent? And Oh, My God, what if he just runs up to me and hugs me and I don't feel that rush of love right off? What if, what if, what if? So I wrap myself tighter, pull my children I have at home into my lap and whisper to them how much I love them and I'm sorry I'm going to be gone for 11 days.
Nearly six months of adoption waiting depression followed by some absolute pure panic.
And I feel all these things appreciating that The Child is going to be absolutely THIS terrified when we go to bring him home. He is probably going to shell up and withdraw. He is going to be scared of new foods, and not knowing anyone, and this new place, and his brother and sister. He's going to be terrified being here and not understanding what anyone is saying. And the only people he WILL know is Me and his Dad and he'll need to share us with Magda and Mordecai.
How I'm feeling right now? This pit in my stomach, this ultimately unnecessary and really childish fear? That's exactly how he's going to be feeling.
So when our little family holes up and wraps tight again, when we don't utilize our support system, when we aren't active in our church family, when we're not maintaining friendships or returning phone calls and Yes, when we aren't all getting a bath every single day:
please forgive us?
please try and understand that while this is such a blessing in our lives
while we ARE excited and grateful and blessed beyond belief
We are also a little terrified.
A little lost.
And probably a lot sleep deprived.
But we will reach a healthy state at some point, and we will break from our hibernation, a fresh new family.
I love you all and we are so thankful for the unending support and kindness of everyone following our journey. We will be coming home with pictures and videos and enough stories to fill a blank copy of Les Miserables and I hope to share just as much as we can with everyone who wants to know (and possibly anyone who just might be standing in line by me at the store). You'll all be so tired of hearing about The Child by the time November rolls around. I promise.
After this visit, we will wait for court, where the adoption itself officially takes place. IF the adoption is granted, we will be invited back for another week long stay to pick up The Child and bring him home with us. That trip might possibly happen in February of 2014. If it does, we will have him home just before his 5th birthday.
So far, that's what we know. That's where we are.
Ten days till travel.
12 days till we meet him.
Take a deep breath.
This is really happening.
We were issued our travel dates and will be in country in less than ten days.
After an entire year has passed since committing to The Child, it is strange to finally be taking this step.
After our home study, after our dossier, The Child's country completely fell apart this last spring. We should have traveled to meet him sometime in June, and when that timeline was tossed out the window, well.
I'm almost embarrassed to admit it but our little family sort of fell off the face of the earth. As much as everyone will say, "Oh, utilize your support system! Be active in your church family! Maintain friendships! Return calls! Bathe! Everyday!"
Sometimes that just isn't going to happen. It's all good advice, yes, but it didn't happen.
We haven't been to church in months. It isn't anything our church family has done. It's just me. I'm emotionally incapable of handling social situations right now. Since our initial time life fell apart, I fell apart with it. I haven't been utilizing my support system. I haven't been active in our church family. I haven't been maintaining friendships (sorry, guys. I do love you!). I haven't been returning phone calls and, No, I haven't been bathing every day.
Every day where we have been in limbo about The Child and the adoption, I've felt like I was in limbo within my own life.
It's been a form of depression where I've wrapped myself around my children and locked us up in our little house. I can't control The Child's country. I can control my living room. I can't control the in country agency. I can control my bed. I can't control the orphanage. I can control what I cook for dinner.
This isn't good and it might not be typical but it's been how I've been able to deal with the unknowns that have come up through our own adoption experience. I've wrapped up in my blanket of things that comfort me and make me feel safe and I've hidden away from everything else.
Not healthy?Possibly, but it's the healthiest way I could have handled this for myself.
Now, here we are, looking at boarding a plane and meeting our son in less than two weeks and I'm wrapping that blanket tighter.
I'm terrified of the travel, truth be told. I'm scared of being in a foreign country where I don't understand the language and I don't know anyone (except my husband, We are traveling together and that's honestly the only reason I'm not having a complete come apart right now.). I'm weirded out about eating foods that I don't know what might be in them. I'm scared to death about meeting The Child. What if he runs from us and screams? What if he's indifferent? And Oh, My God, what if he just runs up to me and hugs me and I don't feel that rush of love right off? What if, what if, what if? So I wrap myself tighter, pull my children I have at home into my lap and whisper to them how much I love them and I'm sorry I'm going to be gone for 11 days.
Nearly six months of adoption waiting depression followed by some absolute pure panic.
And I feel all these things appreciating that The Child is going to be absolutely THIS terrified when we go to bring him home. He is probably going to shell up and withdraw. He is going to be scared of new foods, and not knowing anyone, and this new place, and his brother and sister. He's going to be terrified being here and not understanding what anyone is saying. And the only people he WILL know is Me and his Dad and he'll need to share us with Magda and Mordecai.
How I'm feeling right now? This pit in my stomach, this ultimately unnecessary and really childish fear? That's exactly how he's going to be feeling.
So when our little family holes up and wraps tight again, when we don't utilize our support system, when we aren't active in our church family, when we're not maintaining friendships or returning phone calls and Yes, when we aren't all getting a bath every single day:
please forgive us?
please try and understand that while this is such a blessing in our lives
while we ARE excited and grateful and blessed beyond belief
We are also a little terrified.
A little lost.
And probably a lot sleep deprived.
But we will reach a healthy state at some point, and we will break from our hibernation, a fresh new family.
I love you all and we are so thankful for the unending support and kindness of everyone following our journey. We will be coming home with pictures and videos and enough stories to fill a blank copy of Les Miserables and I hope to share just as much as we can with everyone who wants to know (and possibly anyone who just might be standing in line by me at the store). You'll all be so tired of hearing about The Child by the time November rolls around. I promise.
After this visit, we will wait for court, where the adoption itself officially takes place. IF the adoption is granted, we will be invited back for another week long stay to pick up The Child and bring him home with us. That trip might possibly happen in February of 2014. If it does, we will have him home just before his 5th birthday.
So far, that's what we know. That's where we are.
Ten days till travel.
12 days till we meet him.
Take a deep breath.
This is really happening.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Puzzle Piece Fundraiser!
That's right!
We're still fundraising, as we are still waiting for the official referral
(and seeing as we have no idea when that will happen...)
So you guys get a chance to win a KINDLE FIRE HD!
That baby right there, brand new, freshly shipped from Amazon and waiting to be given away!
How this is going to work:
We chose a picture and had a keepsake puzzle made out of it.
There are 252 puzzle pieces. We are going to "sell" the pieces for $3 a piece. As pieces are purchased, we will write the buyers name on the back of a piece and put the puzzle together. I will post photos of our progress. When the puzzle is completed, we will have a beautiful keepsake for The Child when he gets home to help show him how many people love him and helped and supported us in bringing him home. =)
There are 252 puzzle pieces. We are going to "sell" the pieces for $3 a piece. As pieces are purchased, we will write the buyers name on the back of a piece and put the puzzle together. I will post photos of our progress. When the puzzle is completed, we will have a beautiful keepsake for The Child when he gets home to help show him how many people love him and helped and supported us in bringing him home. =)
For every piece you buy, I'll write your name on a slip of paper and when ALL the pieces have sold, we will have a drawing for the Kindle Fire HD.
Click the Donate button below and enter the amount for the number of pieces you'd like to purchase. =)
Monday, June 3, 2013
Nine Months
If adoption were like pregnancy, I would have brought The Child home this week.
Nine Months.
We've been working on this adoption for Nine Months now.
Our Dossier is sitting in The Child's country waiting for translation and consideration.
We are sitting around here having life and it's been Nine Months and He's not even close to coming home.
My niece is pregnant. She's about 21 weeks into her pregnancy. She just found out she's having a boy. We're trying to convince her to name him Bruce Lee. Or Bruce Wayne. Or not... I like my niece and her husband. lol But She and I get to visit nearly daily and she is in that lovely part of pregnancy I like to refer to as "There is a child inside me and I'd rather not feel so tired or throw up so often Thank you very much" and I can't help but wonder if We'll have our little boy home by the time her little boy makes his entrance.
I am in the stage of the adoption process that I like to refer to as "What am I even doing anymore why has this taken so long why does it all cost so much why can't they just see we're good people and He would be happy and taken care of with us and I just don't get it but give me another hoop and I'll jump through it because THIS IS HAPPENING if I have to swim across the ocean and hike to his orphanage and petition the courts myself with a pitchfork and smile and a Let me have my son, please."
Which translates to me wringing my hands, trying to keep my nervous stomach calm and using ninja breathing techniques to keep from flipping out half the time on well meaning people who ask me "So, when are you going to get that baby boy?" because in my head I am screaming "I DON'T KNOW AND THAT IS KILLING ME!"
Take a deep breath.
Nine Months. We committed to The Child nine months ago. He's had a birthday since then. He's a four year old now. There is a very real, very sad possibility that he may have another birthday before we can get him home. That possibility makes me wants to yell and scream and kick things. It really does. I'm a pretty calm, relaxed, patient, contained person... I am. But I would be a calm, relaxed, patient, contained, liar if I told you that I am perfectly content with the pace this adoption is moving.
I want to meet this kid so hard it hurts in my soul and even feeling that ache to hold this child in my arms and love him fiercely, I know I'm not really ready.
I know I'm not really prepared.
What parent is though? What parent can say they are absolutely fully prepared to walk into a room with a complete stranger that is their child without the slightest glint of fear in their eyes? What parent is handed that newborn in the hospital and doesn't have a moment of absolute crippling clarity that they are going to screw that kid up somehow? And being pretty sure they might actually do it before they get the kid buckled into the car seat in the parking lot.
By this time next year, I hope I am looking back on this post and laughing. I hope I am saying
"Oh, you! You had no idea what you were getting yourself in to! You and your family were woefully rosey eyed about everything and Dear Me how you've all learned so much about yourselves, your family, your support system and, especially, the Child. But, Hey! You did it! You made it there and back, Twice! and You're home with the Child now and He and Magda and Mordecai are all fully functioning children who bicker and love each other and you and your husband are sleepless and haven't been on a date in over a year (or even slept in bed without one of the kids between you for the past 6 months) but you're a team and the kids are great and sure you don't do laundry every day but you never did that anyway But, past self, What I'm saying here is you are totally not prepared for what's coming up in your life but, baby, you manage it and everyone survives and there are days where you look at your life and it almost kinda feels normal again and if that isn't Winning, well, I don't know what is."
Our lives are going to change. All of our lives are going to change. Especially The Child's life. His will have the biggest change but we're all going to experience a change in our little lives. I am simultaneously giddy with glee and nauseated by fear. I'm on the edge of my seat and I'm terrified and begging, pleading, PLEASE BRING IT ON!
Nine Months.
We've been working on this adoption for Nine Months now.
Our Dossier is sitting in The Child's country waiting for translation and consideration.
We are sitting around here having life and it's been Nine Months and He's not even close to coming home.
My niece is pregnant. She's about 21 weeks into her pregnancy. She just found out she's having a boy. We're trying to convince her to name him Bruce Lee. Or Bruce Wayne. Or not... I like my niece and her husband. lol But She and I get to visit nearly daily and she is in that lovely part of pregnancy I like to refer to as "There is a child inside me and I'd rather not feel so tired or throw up so often Thank you very much" and I can't help but wonder if We'll have our little boy home by the time her little boy makes his entrance.
I am in the stage of the adoption process that I like to refer to as "What am I even doing anymore why has this taken so long why does it all cost so much why can't they just see we're good people and He would be happy and taken care of with us and I just don't get it but give me another hoop and I'll jump through it because THIS IS HAPPENING if I have to swim across the ocean and hike to his orphanage and petition the courts myself with a pitchfork and smile and a Let me have my son, please."
Which translates to me wringing my hands, trying to keep my nervous stomach calm and using ninja breathing techniques to keep from flipping out half the time on well meaning people who ask me "So, when are you going to get that baby boy?" because in my head I am screaming "I DON'T KNOW AND THAT IS KILLING ME!"
Take a deep breath.
Nine Months. We committed to The Child nine months ago. He's had a birthday since then. He's a four year old now. There is a very real, very sad possibility that he may have another birthday before we can get him home. That possibility makes me wants to yell and scream and kick things. It really does. I'm a pretty calm, relaxed, patient, contained person... I am. But I would be a calm, relaxed, patient, contained, liar if I told you that I am perfectly content with the pace this adoption is moving.
I want to meet this kid so hard it hurts in my soul and even feeling that ache to hold this child in my arms and love him fiercely, I know I'm not really ready.
I know I'm not really prepared.
What parent is though? What parent can say they are absolutely fully prepared to walk into a room with a complete stranger that is their child without the slightest glint of fear in their eyes? What parent is handed that newborn in the hospital and doesn't have a moment of absolute crippling clarity that they are going to screw that kid up somehow? And being pretty sure they might actually do it before they get the kid buckled into the car seat in the parking lot.
By this time next year, I hope I am looking back on this post and laughing. I hope I am saying
"Oh, you! You had no idea what you were getting yourself in to! You and your family were woefully rosey eyed about everything and Dear Me how you've all learned so much about yourselves, your family, your support system and, especially, the Child. But, Hey! You did it! You made it there and back, Twice! and You're home with the Child now and He and Magda and Mordecai are all fully functioning children who bicker and love each other and you and your husband are sleepless and haven't been on a date in over a year (or even slept in bed without one of the kids between you for the past 6 months) but you're a team and the kids are great and sure you don't do laundry every day but you never did that anyway But, past self, What I'm saying here is you are totally not prepared for what's coming up in your life but, baby, you manage it and everyone survives and there are days where you look at your life and it almost kinda feels normal again and if that isn't Winning, well, I don't know what is."
Our lives are going to change. All of our lives are going to change. Especially The Child's life. His will have the biggest change but we're all going to experience a change in our little lives. I am simultaneously giddy with glee and nauseated by fear. I'm on the edge of my seat and I'm terrified and begging, pleading, PLEASE BRING IT ON!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)