Like everyone else

So, I will be the first to admit that I am not unique.

I'm actually pretty average.

What? That's not so bad.

Growing up I was "cute."
Never beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, etc.
Cute.
My older sister always considered that a four letter word . . .
which it is, but you know what I mean.
It didn't bother me much because I could see it.
I knew who the beautiful girls were. Everyone did. I was not part of that genre.

I wasn't homecoming queen . . . or even a part of the court.
I wasn't a varsity cheerleader (broke my arm as a freshman and killed that dream.)
I wasn't a star athlete, in any sport.
I played the cello and sang, well enough to get college scholarships, but not everyone plays the cello or sings alto, so I served a purpose.
I wasn't in a sorority. Heck, my sorority girlfriends in nursing school are the ones who taught me about lip and eyeliner! (No, I'm serious.) Thank you Juli and Trixie :)

I was blessed with the love of a cute, cute boy . . .
who turned into one heck of a handsome man . . .
and I married him . . .
and as nature would have it, he continues to get more and more good looking and attractive and sexy,
while I,
a woman,
fight gravity and the effects of stress on my outward appearance.
So unfair.

I will say that over the years, John Frieda and the Pantene line have done a lot for me.
Thank goodness for product!
Why couldn't my hair look this good back when I was super self-conscious?

Anyway . . .
When it comes to adopting, I'm guessing I'm not all that unique either.

I've hit the point of major discouragement.
Two years into my heart's desire and my son(s) are no closer to being home as part of our family.
Our pockets are much, much lighter from all the money going out,
but there are no more children in our home than the two angels we started with.

I find solace in the words of other adoptive mamas who understand how your spiritual self is deeply affected by the waiting and working and the brick walls repeatedly placed in front of you.
Recently, another mama said to me "oh, that's the point where we nearly walked away."

Oh my word.
Now, she gets it.

I believe that the call to adopt and care for the fatherless is a Godly gift.

I believe that the Enemy works hard to put up barriers, plant doubt, throw racism and prejudice in our faces, create stress and conflict in our personal lives, and wear down our resolve to follow our hearts and the Voice that called us to the task.

It's kind of like being in junior high or high school -
listening to the bad things, believing the negative thoughts and feelings
becomes easier than believing the positive and the good.

I find myself getting sucked into the drama of political battles over dates and specifics and titles.

I read the news posts about documents drafted and leaked (however intentionally) and families freaking out how their paperwork and their process timeline will be affected.

Lately, although I keep up to date by reading the gossip news updates,
I feel rather numb to it all.

Like it doesn't really affect me at all anyway.

We are no closer.
There is no one with power on our side over there fighting for us or for our child.

There are so many families in the exact same boat as we are in.

Waiting.

Working to do all they can do.

Praying.

Hoping.

Wondering if it will really ever end happily.

Flipping pages on the calendar and watching biological children grow,
while answering their "when are the boys coming home?" with more
I don't knows.

Adoptive Miscarriage

So, it took me a while to define the grief I've been feeling, and someone else in the adoption atmosphere labeled it for me: miscarriage.

I have suffered an adoption miscarriage.
I am grieving the loss of dreams for my child, time invested in the planning of our future and am realizing that I will never hold my son in my arms and share a name with him.

Terms like paper pregnant are cute and hopeful.

Miscarriage, on the other hand, is anything but.

Can we "try again?"
Sure.

But that doesn't take away the pain of realization that the child I cherish as my son will not know the joy or the love of a forever family.

I will never be his Mama.

He won't wear the clothes hanging in his closet
or see the books I've made him documenting our relationship thus far.

I understand protecting the children and the families and the process of adoption internationally.

I get the importance of the Hague Convention and what it's membership can mean for a country as poverty-ravished and torn apart as Haiti.

I do not understand setting laws that are so strict and binding that literally thousands of children will be deemed unadoptable.

What a horrible, hideous word.

How can any child be banned from having someone love them and call them their own forever.

How can it be alright for any child to grow up in an orphanage?
Even the very best orphanage?

I am not naive.

Abandonment, extreme poverty, illness, starvation and being orphaned are not new crises.

Why can we send explorers to Mars
(for something ridiculous like 2.2 billion dollars),
but not free children from prisons in Africa, slavery in the Caribbean and institutions world wide?

Why do babies die of malaria, malnourishment and hepatitis when these things are curable and, worse yet, preventable?

Photos courtesy of Google Images

How do you grieve something that you've worked so long for?
dreamed about?
prayed over?
sacrificed for?
hoped for?
and loved . . .
but that really was never even yours at all?

A Few Changes

You may notice some changes if you've read this blog before.
Some pictures have been removed.
Icons have been rearranged.
Priorities have changed.

IBESR has not reopened . . . which doesn't matter to me now anyway.
It's time to rearrange.
We will no longer be allowed to pursue an independent adoption in Haiti.
I am fervently searching (and begging) for an agency that can assist us in completing our adoption of Dimitry.
I have accepted that we are not meant to have Alby in our family. There are too many "obstacles" that we cannot overcome and no amount of praying, bargaining or crying will change that.

I cannot
I will not
accept that Dimitry is destined to spend his childhood in an orphanage when we love him and want to provide him a forever home.

I do believe that we are called to care for the fatherless.
I believe that my heart was called to Haiti for a reason.
Perhaps several different reasons.

I am sure that the blessings in our lives were given to us to share
and that orphan care is my heart's desire.




I will continue to pray
and believe
and hope
that a way will be found to bring our boy home . . .
and I believe that,
if not Alby, than another child,
waits for us in Haiti.

There are things I love
things I cherish
things I believe are worth fighting for
and I'm a long way away from giving up.

I have frequently admitted to being less than eloquent in my blogging abilities, but I read something that really touches on what I've been feeling lately, and want to share it with you:

http://itsalmostnaptime.blogspot.com/2012/07/stuck.html

This is quite a road we are on . . .
One that currently has us anxiously researching agencies and Haitian creches, trying to figure out who might help us bring our Dimitry home and perhaps, if there is another child meant to join our family.

As always, we could use some prayers.
And if you are also on this journey of adoption, please know that YOU are in my prayers, as well.

Answer to Prayer?

I have a very smart friend who once told me that change is not always bad.

(That sounds a bit "duh" when I write it, but hear me out.)

A while back (and a few lot of blog posts ago), the IBESR gained a new director. The aforementioned friend eased my mind regarding this change by saying the change of personnel may be a blessing in disguise. Not only did the new director really get paperwork flowing across the desk tops in Haiti, but she has also been working with administrators to make adoption in Haiti more streamlined.
So, of course, his perspective was spot on (like that? a bit British, huh?)

Well, now there are more changes.
Today, the director of All Blessings International posted that the IBESR has issued a statement regarding the new adoption laws that will likely go into effect this time next month.

My initial response was mixed.
A mixture of nausea, anxiety, relief and hope, to be exact.

Here's a few of the major points, in a nut shell:

• Independent adoptions will no longer be allowed; all adoptions must be coordinated through a licensed, IBESR approved agency (a list of approved agencies to follow . . . hopefully sooner rather than later)
• Before any proceedings begin, a child must be found eligible to be adopted by the IBESR
• A priority list for eligible adoptees was given (orphan, physical disabilities, developmental disabilities, abandoned child, child relinquished by parents for adoption . . . )

A. We have been trying to adopt independently, meaning that we have not been associated with an agency (because Fondwa is remote and religiously run), but gathered our own paperwork and hired an attorney (endorsed by the U.S. State Department) to submit the dossier and do the legal work.

B. Both of our boys were essentially abandoned (or relinquished to the nuns for care, indefinitely), although we were able to obtain official relinquishment from one boy's father during our last trip.

While we have not been successful in getting our documentation submitted, or obtaining any kind of abandonment status, or making any progress at all, with the exception of our last little adventure before the judge, I am hopeful that this law change will give us the backing we need to move on. Perhaps, with the new laws supporting us, we can find an agency to work with us and continue our adoption journey with Dimmy. As stagnant as our relationship has been, this may be our opportunity to move past an attorney-client relationship and onto a better situation where progress will be made.

My only fear is the funds.
                  go figure

We're already 7K deep in legal representation and an additional 4-5K in education, home study and dossier creation, translation, and legalization, USCIS processing and fingerprinting, and other various things.
We have a small bit saved (for what was supposed to be the second half of our attorney's fees, covering passport processing for both boys), but the thought of starting over with an agency is frightening.

On the bright side, our part of the dossier is already complete and shouldn't need to be reworked as we already have USCIS approval.

but it's still nerve wracking

Wow.
I never imagined it would go this way.
Then again, what part of international adoption is truly predictable?!

Nearly Broken

My heart is broken . . .
for orphans.
for Haiti.
because of this process.

Each day I try to contain the emotions and heart break when asked how things are going with our adoption. Every time, I take a deep breath and try to give the short answer that nothing has changed.

I check my email eagerly each time that tone sounds on my phone. I check my junk in-box each evening, just in case something was mis-filed. I read the news pages and can't help but see the exuberant posts of families exiting IBESR and finally getting passports for their children, at long last.

Today, I read the joyous post of one family who received word that they "exited IBESR after 7 long months!"

7 months . . .
Wow.

Our dossier arrived in Port-au-Prince, directly to our attorney, on October 21, 2011 . . .
where it has remained . . .
for 9 months.
That family's dossier was submitted to IBESR two months after our file should have been moved on, and now, they look forward to visa interviews and an imminent homecoming.

Wow.
Absolutely heart breaking.

Did I miss something here?
Did I read the signals wrong or misunderstand the calling?

When Sister died, several people told me that they believed we were brought to her, not only to put adoption strongly on our hearts, but to help her in her journey.
I was here to talk with physicians and help support my dear friend Sister Claudette through the challenges and pain she faced. I was blessed to see Sister comfortable in her last days, in a place of peace and solitude. I was blessed to spend hours with Sisters Claudette and Simone and Mirlande, and visit once again with friends who share my love for these women and Fondwa.

Was my calling to adopt more generic than I understood and interpreted?
What about my immediate attraction to Dimitry and the warmth the three of us shared so quickly and easily? Eric and Dimitry bonded so quickly . . . and so deeply.
He's our son.
So why is this so difficult and riddled with obstacles?

We have lobbied for the Sisters and the orphanage. We have fund raised and collected and sponsored. We have traveled and spent so much money already.
I love Fondwa and my friends family there.

We have strained our finances and maxed out credit cards. We have saved and scrimped. We have filled multiple coin jars and have money waiting in CDs for the attorney's call. We have cancelled vacations, cut back on entertainment and household things, and have lived paycheck to paycheck so the money can be directed towards this process.

I've prayed for every part of this journey and each person who's hand is involved in the outcome.
I'm literally sick over the silence.

I can't stop looking at the photos of my boys and their friends and children in orphanages all over Haiti.
Have I misunderstood somewhere along the line?
Has my purpose been fulfilled in Fondwa?
Is my purpose for the Sisters, rather than the orphans?

Is there some reason we keep hearing that it will be no problem to complete Dimmy's paperwork for dossier advancement . . . but nothing actually happens?

I have to believe that Dimitry is our son.
My heart started letting go of Alby a long time ago . . .
he is so far out of reach, it seems.

Is there someone else?
Another path to be followed?
Another road that I just haven't found . . .
or been open to?

I don't know how else to pray, what else to ask for, what else to seek.
I just feel broken.

With triple digit temperatures, I'm daydreaming of autumn and trying to plan for the school year.

My baby girl is starting kindergarten and couldn't be more excited.
Mama's thoughts are of new backpacks, the quality of school lunches . . . and my children's attention span during those quick 20 minutes of lunch time . . . pencils, new teachers, bus rides, shorter days and hopefully some falling leaves.
Trying to decide if big brother will stick with tae kwon do a little longer (he's getting bored) or switch over to gymnastics with the new school year.
Thinking about work schedules and juggling Daddy's volleyball coaching with our life at home.
Looking at the calendar and thinking that this heat has to break sometime . . .
Really, it can't be 90 degrees on Halloween, right?
Soon, we'll be planning for long sleeves and checking to make sure that jackets are packed along with snacks for school.

Here's a thought: Christmas shopping. (Don't gag - I'm thinking cool thoughts here.)
Not that I want to rush things, don't get me wrong, but cooler sounds nice and so does the routine of another school year.

I love new shoes and clothes for fall. Reading bedtime stories before tucking in - this doesn't happen much in summer time since we often stay up too late, giggling and goofing before collapsing into a "it's so hot and we spent half the day at the pool and the other half riding scooters or playing dress up inside" coma.

There is a lot to be said for routine.

Then again, it would be nice to not watch the calendar pages turn over and over again, thinking that "maybe next year" we'll see our boys home.
I'd like to pick my vacation weeks while planning fun outings and trips rather than trying not to burden sitters while we return to Haiti for another round of political cat and mouse and bittersweet time with our sweet ones there.

It's funny how "normal" changes over time, isn't it?
The loss of loved ones, new schedules and activities, waiting . . .
normal takes on many forms.

Blessed through it all though.
And I suppose, that's enough.