I am an Ant

There's no mispelling in the title. I am an ant, metaphorically speaking.

Tuesday was a difficult day in the small adoption world I am a part of. It started with my having to deliver difficult news to a family who was waiting the court date for a little boy they had met in Russia in March and were hoping would be their own any day now. As it turns out, the boy's biological family is attempting to regain custody that was taken from them by the Russian courts when he was merely weeks old. It's an extremely difficult part of my job to deliver news like that. Not the way to start the week after a long weekend.

Later in the day, we learned that the pastor we are working with in Pakistan to start our orphanage was arrested. He is accused of blasphemy...an extremely serious crime in Pakistan..one that carries the death penalty. We don't know any other details at this time. We do know that this not only jeopardizes his life, but likely the life of his wife as well. I feel so much shock and sorrow.

It goes without saying that his life is first and foremost in our thoughts and prayers. Then thoughts turn to the work we were doing together...no one knows at this time if it can or will continue.

All of this ickyness led me out to my back yard Tuesday afternoon. The weeds are running rampant and I really needed to step out of the office to breathe, think, and accomplish something..anything even if just to make a small patch of the yard look better. I put on my gloves and started pulling the weeds from the rocks near our cement patio. The birds scatter seed there and it takes root and grows amazingly well in the rock. Thankfully, the task was easy given the recent rain and the fact that roots can't grow too deeply in rock. As I pulled the weeds I began to notice that where they grew most thickly, small black ants had built their miniature ant hills. This was no revelation, believe me, I've pulled my share of weeds and seen a fair share of these mini ant hills.

What I did begin to notice though, was how the ants reacted to my uprooting their home (you'll have to indulge my anthropomorphizing here). Some ants got "angry" for lack of a better description and ran about trying to defend their crumbling home. Some ants clung to the root of the weed, refusing to let go. This led to their demise or at least to their significant relocation in the heap of weeds that I tossed. I didn't notice at first, but there was a third set of ants. They came to the surface later after I'd uprooted their home and the other ants had reacted. These ants began to rebuild the hill. They seemed to work together once the chaos had past to try once again to make something of their lives.

I couldn't help but reflect on how like the ants I was on Tuesday in thinking of the affect the news out of Pakistan might have on our own adoption. My immediate reaction was to cling to the root...the plan we have in place...regardless of the realities of the situation. "It is our plan to adopt a little girl from Pakistan, we'll stick to it no matter what." As the immediacy of the response and news subsided, I felt a moment of anger at the situation. This is not the first time we've experienced set backs in our own adoption journeys and I felt angry that this was happening to us. I need only think of the family and the Russian boy from earlier that day to get past this angry, defensive response.

So now I strive to be like the third set of ants. To wait patiently as we await news and to begin to rebuild this dream of adopting a daughter. Maybe the anthill of our adoption won't look quite the same as it did initially. After all, does the country of our child's birth matter? Does her skin color? What about her age? Maybe we are not meant to adopt again at all? All things to ponder in the waiting and the rebuilding.

A little over a month ago I wrote "I record this here mostly for myself so that as that wheel hits bumps and crevices along the way or becomes stuck in muck or even possibly bounces off onto another path " Perhaps we're at one of those bumps taking us to another path. It's hard to know.

But for now I strive to be an ant....the kind that waits and rebuilds one small piece at a time.

When?

Things are beginning to move on our adoption! Albeit slowly..like a heavy stone wheel that people are beginning to push out of a rut. I know at some point that wheel is going to start rolling faster and faster and before we know it we'll be bringing home our little girl!

The million dollar question that everyone asks us is when? When will you bring her home? Right now, to be honest, I'm more interested in WHO? Who is this little one we are so anxious to love? The when can wait for now.

The "when?" question though, always strikes me as an odd one. Mostly because an assumption of what the timing should be goes along with the question when it's asked. So many outside the adoption community assume adoption should be a quick, easy (and most of the time free) process. People are astounded to learn that the process takes time and requires lots of work and patience (and yes, money...unless you are adopting through US foster care). The first time we went through this process I was in a hurry too. But this time around, I'm ok with the time it is taking. Especially, if it's just a matter of "when?" and not "if". Maybe it's because I've had the advantage of seeing and working with so many families who have waited and I get to see that the right child is placed in the right family at the right time over and over and over again.

I have to believe that our far away daughter has things she is meant to experience yet in Pakistan. People who are meant to love and care for her, things she is meant to learn before she comes to us. And maybe, just maybe we are meant to learn and grow through this process too. Maybe our faith and patience are supposed to be stretched. Goodness knows there are lots of things I could work on in both of those arenas! Maybe I'm not yet prepared to be the parent our future daughter will need.

While giving birth and adopting are two completely seperate and equally miraculous ways of building family, there are comparisons. Perhaps, we are meant to labor for this baby emotionally as we did our youngest two children and as I did physically for our oldest three. Like we learned in our birthing class all those years ago, I am going to practice my breathing, relax, and try to go with the flow of the labor...the emotions as they rise and fall...to experience it all until the little one meant for our family comes home.

I record this here mostly for myself so that as that wheel hits bumps and crevices along the way or becomes stuck in muck or even possibly bounces off onto another path that I can look back and read this and take my own advice. She will arrive. Who? We do not know. When? At just the perfect time!

We Are The Truth Adoption Blogger Day

The Joint Council on International Children's Services (JCICS) has asked those who blog about adoption to blog about their adoption experiences. http://adopt-abroad.com/pdf/Call_To_Action-We_Are_The_Truth.pdf This is mainly an attempt to show that a great majority of adoptions are positive experiences (even if there are struggles along the way) rather than what the mainstream media has been trying to portray over the last week in response to one family's atrocious actions.

And so, here is my adoption blog. My husband and I are the proud parents of 5 (eventually to be 6 if we are so blessed) children. Our three oldest were born to us and our youngest 2 were born to their first mothers in Guatemala and came to be our children through international adoption. We will soon be celebrating the 6th anniversaries of their home comings (their family days). While our children joined our family as young infants (5 months old and 6.5 months old), the process itself and the adjustment period (yes, even with infants there is an adjustment/bonding period) had it's difficulties.

There were many nights that I held my sweet 5 month old daughter and felt like a "fraud". It felt more like babysitting than parenting at first. But she fit into our family seamlessly. She fell right into the rythmn and routine of our bustling household. I on the other hand struggled for weeks wanting to feel maternal toward her. Some how, in the act of feedings and diaperings and playing and running from here to there together I got there...I felt like mommy.

Three months after bringing home our daughter, we traveled back to Guatemala to bring home our son. I expected to feel the same way, but knew that "fraud" feeling would pass. But surprise! I instantly felt like mommy to this big bundle of joy! He on the other hand, at 6.5 months old was having nothing of it! I did not look, smell, or sound like the mommy he had known his whole life. He went on a 24 hour hunger strike that only ended when we figured out that he would take a bottle from us if we turned our heads away and made no eye contact. Oh, he would look at us at other times, but definitely not meal time! Again, time was our friend and within a week we could gaze deeply in each others eyes as he took his bottle. The nights of waking to him screaming in terror, however, last for months....but eventually those passed too.

My "babies" are now both 6 years old. They attend kindergarten and have friends and enjoy typical 6 year old activities. They are truly and fully integeral parts of our family. We would not/ could not be who we are without them.

They have different approaches to their own adoptions. Our daughter is constantly curious and open about talking about her adoption, Guatemala, and her birth family (who we do not know). Our son on the other hand turns his back when we speak of his adoption. That is until recently. In one special moment recently, he began talking about the volcanoes of Guatemala. This was our opening to discuss Guatemala and even led to him asking questions about his birth family and adoption. We were happy to share it with him. And to take that moment when his defenses were down and he was open to really listening to instill a pride in who he is that we pray will continue to grow.

Adoption has been an amazing thing for our family. It has brought us together. All of our children are growing up in our family where adoption is just another way someone becomes family. There's nothing less or more unusal about it when compared to being born into a family. In fact, sometimes our biological children feel slighted that they don't have two countries or two moms and dads. I love that we can all view adoption so positively.

I dare venture to say that the great majority of adoptive families feel similarly, including the approximately 100,000 Russian children adopted by parents in the United States over the years. Now to convince the mainstream media of that......

We Are Expecting!

Yes, it's true....I discovered the news in the form of an email in my inbox. We are officially well into the latter first part of our paper pregnancy for our third adoption (our sixth child)!

The home study has been completed and approved by the State. Now we are just waiting on immigration to approve us and we will finish up our documents for the country. The country program we have chosen is still in its infancy which is a bit scary and we've had one false start already. I think we're ready for the challenge though and have come to realize that if this country doesn't work out, it's really not important where our child was born just that we very much want to parent another daughter.

We haven't shared our news with everyone, mostly just family and close friends. It's odd how calm I am feeling about the adoption this time around. Perhaps it's because I am working in adoption now and see how these things take all kinds of paths but most typically come to happy endings. Maybe because I feel more in control of my paperwork this time around or maybe because I'm much busier with work and the 5 kids at home. Regardless, the sense of calm about our decision is comforting to me.

As our process progresses, I will post more details here. I'm sure I will have plenty of opportunity for reflection as the process moves forward.

Rest

I just need a place to vent my exhaustion tonight, if that even makes sense. After a week and a half of working with families trying to get their children out of Haiti, I'm just tired. And at the same time I feel so very selfish for even noticing my own exhaustion. It's not like I'm on the ground in Haiti experiencing the devastation first hand. I'm sitting comfortably in my office, albiet a lot more this past week and a half....just making phone calls and answering emails, trying to figure out what can be done from this end to get these children visas to come to the U.S.

The group of children I'm working with is small. Their adoptions have completed in Haiti. We and their waiting families are going through the proper channels and work IS being done in Port au Prince. It's just taking time.

Today I learned that one man...only one...has been processing orphan visas at the Embassy in PaP. While one could be angry with this reality, blaming the government for not having more personnel there, etc.. I was actually amazed at all this one man was able to do while he worked on his own...not only processing their paperwork, but going out to let the children in, being sure they had food and water as they waited...single handedly. That on top of the fact he must be dealing with his own losses...coworkers perhaps family...just the mere trauma around him. So rather than anger...I am in awe of this unrecognized hero. I hope that in the weeks or months ahead once he has a chance to rest that he is somehow recognized for his work in these first days after the disaster.

Part of my exhaustion comes from the ups and downs in the waiting. One minute we're unsure about the well being of the children, the next I'm on 24 hour call in case I need to jump on a plane to meet them as they enter the U.S. Thankfully the children are all well. And the 24 hour call is off for now. Maybe emotions can level out.

They can level out until I can allow the reality to sink in. In many ways this extra work is my way of not allowing myself to think of the enormity of what has happened, not to feel the effects. Yesterday, I learned that the office of the orphanage we work in collapsed...the staff is all dead. People who I never met, but who shared the same goal and loved and worked for the same children as I am....they are all just gone. And so a part of me pushes on to honor them, their lives and their work...to be sure that what was important to them, that these children find forever families..reaches completion.

While they may not have had dignity in death nor in their burial, may I can somehow help their work to have meaning for this group of children...no matter how small.

Rest in peace dear collegeaues...your work will be done.

Transitions

The past two weeks with the children of the summer hosting program have been enlightening. Observing the realities of older children making their spot in a family and families working to accept them is part of that. But more enlightening yet is what observing this process is teaching me about transitions in general.

These four children are transitioning from being orphaned to having a family to call their own. They are learning of the benefits of having someone there to care for them and meet their needs, to enjoy spending time with. They are also learning how difficult it can be to let go and trust that their needs will be met and that love reaches beyond the "fun" times into the difficult times as well.

When the children first arrived they were shy and anxious to step out into the unknown with these strangers who they will one day embrace as their own. Once they stepped out and met this new way of life, the first days were filled with joy, excitement, learning, the thrill of that which is different and new. Road blocks emerged...minor illness and dental problems. Then came the desire for the familiar. While the new is exciting and provides a thrill, there's that yearning for what they have known; even when what they have known may not have been the best situation for them...life in an orphanage. And so the second week has involved a fading of that honeymoon and a struggle to somehow find balance with the draw of the past and the promise of the future.

Reflecting on their experiences, I see their transitioning is not unlike my own attempts to reform my way of living. First I was confronted with anxiety about how to approach this change, but once I stepped out, I enjoyed and embraced the new and different...a healthier way of living. Road blocks emerged...time crunches, exhaustion, other obligations and responsibilities. I too find myself with the honeymoon faded and am feeling inexplicably drawn back to the familiar..the unhealthy habits and lifestyle I once knew...even though it is not the best for me. And so I too am struggling, although in a much smaller way, with somehow finding balance with the draw of the past and the promise of a healthier me of the future.

Interesting that our humanness can bring us together over barriers like life situations, culture, and age when confronted with something we all must face through out our lives....transitions.

And so we continue to work with the children and their families to make it through the work of this change in their lives...and I come away realizing that I too must work in order to transform my own.

Small Package Extraordinary Courage

Three days ago at 2:30 a.m. four school aged children from a small Asian country met their host and potential adoptive families for the first time. The children range in age from 7 years to 12 years old.

When they finally arrived after a 36 plus hour trip from their homeland, they were smiling, giggling and hungry. As they entered the building where the families tiredly but excitedly awaited them, they grew quiet and shy. Their escort made the introductions and the smiles slowly came back across their faces and nervous giggling once again filled the air.

For some, the transition was easier than for others. One little one in particular, the youngest of the bunch, had reservations about leaving on the final leg of her journey with her host family. Eventually, she got in the car and headed to their home for the next month. She is small for her age and speaks little English. I wondered how her transition at her new home would go.

Yesterday, we stopped by to visit her and her hosting family. They are all doing really well. I am simply amazed at the strength and courage of this small child...to come half way around the world, to meet people who don't understand your language and to whom you can't really speak, to live in their home, try their food, play their games and learn their way of being a family; to lay down at night in an oddly silent darkness and wake in unfamiliar surroundings, to go from trying one new thing to the next all the while smiling, never giving up on attempting to communicate, allowing love in and returning it many times over....

If this is not true courage, then I think I will never know what courage is.