I have tried...

...but I have failed.

Maintaining two separate blogs does not work for me.

For adoption updates, please visit my family food blog at:

http://farm-raised.blogspot.com/


It's impossible to compartmentalize a life. Our adoption story is our family story.

That story is being told at Farm-Raised.

See you there!!

Homestudy #1, Check. Homestudy #2, Tomorrow!!

I have been a little quiet about our upcoming adoption here on this blog because it brings so much of a human heart to the uncomfortable surface that it’s impossible to put words on it. I am undeniably excited about being a mother to another child. I cannot wait to meet my child and to raise her in our little family in our little city in Iowa. I cannot wait to share my family with her; to teach her about poetry and music and food and friendship; to love her as much as I love my boys. I cannot wait for these things. But, it’s difficult to proclaim such joy and excitement without the cruel reality that my joy will spring from great loss.

I keep doing the math in my head – when will we meet our child? How old is she at this very moment? Has she been born into this world? For me, this is a calculation of reality. Right now, our child is likely in the second trimester within her mother’s womb. This child is not yet born, which inspires a feeling of love and protection for her, but more poignantly, a feeling of concern and appreciation for her mother. I think about this woman and the one thing we will forever share and it is incredibly humbling. And as she walks through this world, carrying this child, I have so many questions. I wonder what her circumstances are. I wonder if she is already haunted by the knowledge that she will not raise this child. Or perhaps she doesn’t even realize this yet. When will this idea begin to break her heart? She’s no doubt worried about this child. Does she delight in it as well? I wonder what her voice sounds like. I wonder what her hands look like. I wonder whether or not we would be friends if this world were a bit different.


Here’s something strange: Part of me never wants to have to meet her child. Can this be? I want to send her money and food and end it all right now. I think every adoptive mother must struggle with this issue. The reality is harsh.

I insert the tangible into my daydreams. In the least, I want to give her the things I found to be of comfort while I was pregnant with my boys: a new dress, a foot rub, a meatball sandwich. This, of course, is absurd.


It’s hard to get anxious and excited about something that comes with such loss. It’s hard to want to hurry my joy, when I know it will probably come at the unfathomable pain of another woman, someone who I already love at a level of love I had no idea existed. Our first home study is a week away. Time is undeniably marching on. Someday I will be unabashedly joyful and excited about the idea of international adoption. But, in the meantime, it’s a lot to process.

Big Brothers.

And we're off!

Once again we're moving forward! Woohoo! We officially mailed our novellas yesterday and will now wait to hear from our social worker. What a relief! After a month of intense thought and prayer, I am excited to be one small step closer to our kid(s)!!

Update.

We are still sitting on our paper work.

It turns out that there are some very serious things one must consider when adopting a child. Real world questions about life and death. Grown-up things about money and stability. Questions that, at times, seem to require a crystal ball. So, we’re taking our time and trying to really think through these tricky, tricky questions. I’ve been spending a lot of time in conversation with my husband, my head tilted and me saying things like, “Hmmm….” I’m also spending a lot of time in conversation with God, eyes toward the sky, me saying things like, “A little louder now, Lord…” And, “…Really?!?”

That’s our posture right now. We’re standing still. We’re thinking. We're slightly perplexed. We’re anxious, but we realize that some things can’t be rushed.

Something happier today.

This link makes me smile. In some ways it makes the grief of my previous posts more profound, but mostly it makes me smile.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xFbNqivu4R4

I want to honor these people. I want to make clear that they are a beautiful, joyous group. They are not just the faces of hunger and poverty. It's important that we know and see that reality, but it's also important that we see this living, dancing example of humanity as well.

I'm sorry, I've been so serious lately! Enjoy the music and the laughter!

One more thing. Or, number four.

I'm becoming a junkie for Ethiopian adoption blogs/information. The amount of time I've spent, tonight alone, online is just plain silly. The stream of books (Ethiopian stories, histories, you name it) that have landed in our mailbox this week has been ridiculous. I know that you, reader, may not be quite so passionate about this place. But then again, perhaps you are. And perhaps you'll read this. Another heart wrenching, yet hopeful, blog entry I came across while lurking Ethiopian adoption blogs...trying to calm down, trying to pump up, and basically trying to exist within all of this.

http://under-the-acacia-tree.blogspot.com/

Three things.

1. Please follow this link and read the July 1st post:

http://thesweetestthing-family.blogspot.com/


2. Please follow the links and sign this petition:
From ONE.org...

The Financial Times ran an article yesterday with a lead that could hardly be more alarming: “Leaders of the Group of Eight rich nations are set to backtrack on their landmark pledge at the Gleneagles summit in 2005 to increase development aid to Africa to $25bn a year.”

It is astonishing that there is even debate within the G8 as to whether or not they should keep their promises. But the fact that there is a debate adds urgency to our call to the G8 to deliver on their commitments.

So far over 40,000 ONE members have signed our petition to the G8, but with this latest news it is clear we need to step up our efforts.

Please forward this message to a couple friends and ask them to sign the petition to the G8:
http://www.one.org/2008g8/?id=391-3919040-7NKDvtx&t=1

This potential reversal comes at a time when we are seeing results from investments in development. For example, thanks to distribution of bed nets and increased access to anti-malarial drugs, in Rwanda both deaths and cases of malaria have dropped by two-thirds since mid-2006.

As malaria still kills around one million people a year, it is clear that we must replicate successes like this. But it won’t happen if the G8 backtrack on their commitments.

Please tell the G8 leaders that aid works and is desperately needed:
http://www.one.org/2008g8/?id=391-3919040-7NKDvtx&t=2

Thank you for your voice,

Josh Peck, ONE.org


3. Please pray. I'm sure your heart broke, just like mind, as you engaged the information above. Please send all the love you can muster to Ethiopia. If you pray, please pray for them NOW. I believe in a kind and merciful God whose heart breaks harder than yours and mine. Sometimes this seems like it's way to big of an issue to handle, so we push it aside. Don't believe it. Enlist him, beg him, make a plea out of love and compassion. Our sisters and brothers are suffering. It's happening right now.

I just ran a marathon in seven days flat.

I'm done! Part of our PAC “homework” was to complete a Self Study and I finished mine this morning. This is basically a guided autobiography that J and I were each asked to complete. Mine hovers around eleven single-spaced pages. That’s a lot. The study covers obvious things like your upbringing, your family, and your current relationships. It also asks you questions about your own cultural awareness and diversity, your attitudes toward adoption, highlights of your parenting skills, and the strengths and weaknesses of your self, children, spouse, and self. This is not easy stuff. However, I found this to be a great seven days of thought and reflection and I’m sure that I’ll continue thinking through some of these questions as time goes on. It made me remember things long forgotten and it prompted me to take an honest look at the person that I have become. It required that I do some honest reflection on why I want to parent through adoption. The good news is that I still passionately believe that I am meant to be an adoptive mother. The bad news is that my social worker has to wade through all of this stuff! Seriously, it’s a novella.

I am typically a rather private person and this transcultural/transracial adoption will challenge my nature. Last week at PAC we talked about how adoption is not a private matter. For instance, soon my social worker and I will soon sit down and talk about things that my own mother may not even know. (I’m exaggerating, there’s really nothing that mysterious or dramatic about my life! But still…) And once our child comes home, it will forever be obvious that she joined our family through adoption. I am just on the verge of beginning to grasp what that will mean.

Eyes Wide Open.

That's what this weekend was all about...arming ourselves with information before jumping in. I'm so happy we chose this agency because they truly value education. We spent two exhausting days arming ourselves with experts and resources for our journey. We did a lot of soul searching and learned so much. So. Much. We attended workshops on attachment, transracial families, and Ethiopia. We listened and asked questions to panels of adoptees, adoptives parents, and birth mothers. We learned more about the language of adoption. The loss of adoption. The joy of adoption. We discussed complex issues within a small group. We watched videos. We received packets of articles and extensive book lists. And we were given "homework" to complete, which is the next step in this process. We got up early last Thursday morning and journeyed to Minnesota, thus making us one step closer to Ethiopia.



(I know that we look a little scared? scary? in this picture. We're not. We're really not.)

Two days to PAC.

We're heading to St. Paul late this week for Pre-Adoption Classes (PAC) at our agency. I'm excited. It will be nice to roadtrip with my husband, nice to re-connect with our friends Torrey and Jeff (with whom we're staying), and wonderful to learn all about international adoption. I wonder if we'll come home feeling closer to our daughter? I wonder what we'll cover, and uncover, while we're there? Adoption has gradually become my favorite subject. I am desperate to meet more people who I don't have to worry about boring with long-winded musings and a litany of questions. The whole point of the entire two days is to learn, and talk, about adoption. I need this.

We were talking this week about all of the awful flooding in Iowa that has closed down major roads along our path to Minnesota. We had another bit of rough road trying to find friends and family who were able to take our boys for the two days that we'll be gone. This was discouraging me and I asked J if we should perhaps wait until the July session. He looked at me like I was crazy and said something to the effect of, "Minor detours are certainly not going to stand in my way of getting our next child." And when you put it like that, I would have to agree.

Someone who has been there.

I found this on another blog I was reading. (Linked from my sis-in-laws's blog.) I thought it was a very well-written call to action penned by a couple who recently adopted from Ethiopia.


http://thesweetestthing-family.blogspot.com/2008/05/plight-of-ethiopia.html

Interesting.

I have signed up for some on-line adoption article alerts at various papers. I got one today from the New York Times. It's about the loooong process that international adoption has become. Our agency is featured, as I have noticed it has been several times in this particular paper. Feel free to read it here. The article is interesting. I get it. What I thought was most notable, however, is that the article about international adoption is placed in the Fashion & Style section. Still thinking about this one.

Moving on...

We get to go to PAC in June! We're jazzed. J and I were both hoping our application would be approved and we'd be invited to the June session rather than having to wait until July. And, as an added bonus, we'll get to spend our time in St. Paul with my BFF Torrey and her new hubby Jeff who now live there. Torrey and I have been friends since our freshmen year of college. She is honorary auntie to my children and wrote one heck of a letter of reference for us in our journey for number three. :) Can't wait for this whole experience! (God bless our bro and sis-in-law who will be keeping our boys while we're away. They will be responsible for five children while we're gone. Five!)

Seriously. As excited as I was to see the email that said we got to take the next step in this process (huge lump in throat), I just can't imagine the day I get an email with our referral. Oh my.

I love these people.

The poet Grace Paley writes in her poem News...

we want to leave the room...we may not
we must listen...in this wrong world this
is what...we must do...we must bear it



http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/in_depth/7411071.stm

Patience, Part I.

Here is what we’ve done so far:

__Initial application to agency
__Three letters of reference from willing and generous friends
__Physicals for all J and I and the boys
__Explanation of any and all mental and physical health issues
__Lots of pieces of paper requiring signatures
__Finger prints for J and I

Now, we wait. Our next step, once all of the above is reviewed by our agency, is to go to a two-day training seminar in St. Paul, MN. We should find out any day now whether we’ll head there for a weekend in June or July. I’m hoping for June because until we go through the training we are at a complete standstill.

Right now, my sights are set on St. Paul and learning everything that we can about international adoption. Lots of to-do lists will follow our weekend in MN, so I’m trying to focus solely on that experience. I have tried not to take a second look at the tasks that follow the training for fear of getting too impatient or overwhelmed. Speaking of being overwhelmed, I just have this truly overwhelming feeling that God’s timing is in all of this. If we have to wait until July to journey to St. Paul it is clearly because God is taking another month to prepare.

Baby steps to our baby girl.

Here is what we're dealing with.

Hunger.

Poetry Speaks to Children.

I love sharing poetry with my children. And lately I have become a bit obsessed with trying to find the work of African poets. Today, I searched online: “Ethiopia + poems.” I found a bunch of poems written in Amharic. If only I knew what this said.

Hmmm....

A friend who is (as I type) on her way to Sierra Leone to pick up her newly adopted twins sent me this a week or so ago.

Watch it and tell me it doesn't stir something in you.

Here's what it stirred in me: should we? could we? bring home more than one child?


Scroll down and watch the videos "Orphans of Nkandla" and "Toddlers."

Blood Diamond.

I have a very low tolerance for Hollywood violence. I firmly believe in the right to exercise my choice on whether or not to turn on the television or put in a movie. That doesn’t mean that I don’t watch TV or go to the movies. I do. (Mostly Thursday nights – I love you, Tina Fey!!) That doesn’t mean that I never turn it on for my children. I do. However, I work hard to censor the things that are projected in our living room.

Movie lovers are annoyed by me. I appreciate movies, but again, I have no tolerance for violence. As I child, I was so distraught during Bambi that my mother had to remove me from the theater. At twenty-six I got literally sick to my stomach during the movie Crash. Those who know me know that I am very sensitive. My husband and I joke about it and I’m totally about to lose some respect here, but I generally only watch movies that receive three stars or less. I sometimes try to watch movies just for the art of the film. But usually, I end up troubled for days by what I see.

So, it was with a sense of dread that I picked up Blood Diamond from Blockbuster recently. I did not enjoy watching it. I didn’t enjoy those three hours of my life and wished over and over again that I was doing something else with my time. However, it was a learning experience. I am a more educated and passionate person for having seen it. It’s been haunting me. It’s been keeping me up at night. The scenes that run through my mind physically pain my heart. I’ve found that to be true of the books I’ve been reading as well. I want to learn about this world, but I want badly to close my eyes and for someone to be able to tell me that it’s over.

I’ve always told my students that learning is hard. Learning hurts. Broadening your world is painful, but necessary.

Because I'm slightly addicted.

I have found myself somehow living, more aptly spinning and spying, within this blog-culture for the last six months (see family food blog) and I guess an adoption blog seems like the thing to do. I kept a pregnancy journal with each of the boys, so this will serve the same sort of function, I suppose.

I’d also like to use this as a place to learn about adoption and learn how to talk about adoption. I am a knowledge-seeker. I will use this blog as a place to post the things that I’m reading or looking at and learning about. I have no agenda…other than awareness. If you’re reading, it’s because you want to.

It's a...

...girl?

We’re requesting a baby girl. 6-12 months old. For some reason, this has been very clear to me from the beginning. When I started dreaming about an Ethiopian child in my life, I started dreaming about a little girl. I’ll admit to wrestling with myself thinking, “Can I really choose a gender? Isn’t there something weird and slightly sci-fi about choosing your child’s gender? I wouldn’t genetically pre-dispose a biological child to fit such a preference, why would I insist on that for an adopted child?” These are good questions. And I’m just not sure I’ll ever come up with a good, concrete answer as to why this ultimately feels okay. After swimming around in my mind for a bit, but I’ve pretty much dismissed such questions. Instead, I close my eyes and picture her. She’ll be a daughter, a granddaughter, a niece, and a sister. And she’ll be beautiful. I just know it.

Why Ethiopia?

I remember in college, my mom picked me up one day and took me to an art store somewhere outside of Iowa City—a small town, maybe Solon? Lisbon? I can’t remember. Anyway, I remember it seemed a strange setting for a small shop that was filled with African art and artifacts. I also remember admiring a silver cross crafted in Ethiopia. On that day my mom said, “Ohhhh. The Ethiopians are kingly, beautiful people.” I was intrigued.

Several years later, around the time that J and I got married, my aunt waited for a little boy that she was adopting from Ethiopia. S soon met my aunt in the Minneapolis airport, fresh from Addis Ababa. My family is close. My aunt has been like a sister of me. Her adopting such a sweet boy from Ethiopia had a huge impact.

Fast forward four years to a random Spring morning in 2007. My sister-in-law called early in the day to tell me that she and her husband (J’s brother) were adopting a child from Ethiopia. I believe they were influenced by knowing my cousin S and by their love of Africa. Anyway, the surprise was great. My heart skipped a beat because although it had only been mentioned casually among our extended family, we had already been visiting adoption agencies in Chicago that service Ethiopia.

How could this not seal the deal? How could we not believe God had had this all lined up?

Who knew that J and I would both have family members brought to this country…this pocket of Iowa…from a world away? Our child will grow up with two cousins that look like her, that carry themselves like her, and that share a similar story.

And that’s how we arrived at Ethiopia.

And so we tell the world.

By now, everyone knows. We’ve told our friends. We’ve told our families. My hairstylist knows and so does the woman at Starbucks. My parents found out on Mother’s Day and delighted us by their reaction. J’s parents were informed at Woodfire Grille and are thrilled. There have been hugs all around. Part of “the spiel” is that we’re preparing everyone for a long journey. In that same breath, I think we’re preparing ourselves as well. My estimate is that we’ll be bringing home a baby in the fall of 2009, but I really have no idea how realistic that is. I do know, however, that that is a long time from now. Right now, I’m trying to remain calm. I found out last week that one piece of paper from a therapist that I saw while living in Chicago was being held up a bit. I keep telling myself that it’s fine. This small setback, so early in the process, should not unnerve me. I’m trying to remain Zen-like in our wait. We’re not in a big hurry. The process will unfold as it will and I’ll be sitting back, letting it happen, enjoying the ride. Right?

I know. It’s kind of like how I wrote down the words “Bring it on” in the journal that I was keeping before giving birth to Oliver. I was thinking to myself, immediately after I settled into my hospital bed at Northwestern Hospital, before the Petocin kicked me from behind, “This isn’t so bad. Let’s just do this. Bring it on.” Little did I realize the pain of childbirth.

Regardless, I’m trying to be realistic. I’m trying to be patient. I’m fine.

I’m so obviously and completely naïve.

It begins.

On February 14, 2008 (Valentine's Day), J and I had our pre-adoption conference call with our agency in Minnesota. (We latched on to this agency--the one our bro and sis used--after the ones we had visited in Chicago would not serve us as we now call Iowa home.) Immediately, we sent our application. Here is a picture of J at the computer. We are lucky in that J and I both arrived at this decision on our own. Neither one of us had to convince the other. That has been nice.

And look! He even dressed up in his leather sweater.

And here we go...

The time is right in the plan of our family. We feel we have been ordained to adopt our next child and are so thankful that God has given us this adventure to live through as part of our story. We know the road will be long. This is not a ten-month pregnancy or a walk through the park with our bright orange buggy. We’ve watched family members and new friends endure the weight of adoption. We know that there are challenges inherent to the nature of adoption and we know that it is not an easy endeavor. But we don’t really feel like we have a choice. Somehow God chose us to parent a child with different DNA. And in our eyes, this is a tremendous honor. How did we get to be so lucky?

...

The man and woman went on to have a baby boy…their second big-eyed bundle. The baby was welcomed home by a bouncing blond big brother who insisted on wearing navy blue snow boots and practicing Power Ranger moves daily. The new baby was a delight…an easy spirit and a good sleeper. Even during this happy and peaceful time they remembered the moment in the doctor’s office, the agencies they had visited, the things they had learned. They were careful not to let time and life let the realization fade away.

...

There was a litany of doctors. Neurologists, maternal fetal specialists, obstetricians, anesthesiologists. Everyone agreed: the couple could go ahead and try to have another biological baby. They were cautious, but pleased. Soon, they announced a second pregnancy to their family over Chinese food. The woman felt great. Healthy. Relaxed. The man was excited, too. But they both remembered the long road they had walked during the months before. It was so fresh and they were so curious that, before this pregnancy physically announced itself, they visited several adoption agencies. They listened to experts and began reading. The young woman enlisted prayers from her beautiful praying friends, not just for a healthy second pregnancy, but for the very idea of adoption. It was 2005 and there were already people praying around adoption.

Once upon a time...

...there was a Maternal Fetal Specialist at Northwestern Hospital in Chicago, IL who, pointing to a small abnormality on a picture of a young woman’s brain said, “There is no scientific explanation as to why this happened to you. We just can’t explain it.”

In the exact same moment, an overwhelming voice occupied the heart of the young man looking at the picture that said, “I did that. I put my finger on her brain and left my mark on your family forever.” The young man swears he felt the presence of God in that sterile white-walled office and a nudge toward adoption.

The young woman (whose remarkable brain was being discussed) noticed to, although she had already received the message. It was clear to her shortly after she suffered a small stroke? a crazy migraine? (no one was really ever able to say) and was faced with the prospect of not having another biological child. She knew they would adopt. She decided on the way home from the hospital, in a red car cruising up Lake Shore Drive. Adoption entered her consciousness and she was okay with it. Surprisingly calm. Excited, in fact.