It's all in the timing

If you look to the right, you'll see the timeline for our second adoption. Two years ago today was an important day for us. It was the day that everything for our dossier and homestudy for our second adoption was officially, really and truly, complete. It meant... wait list soon.

The month of April 2009 was a really tough month for me on the adoption front. We kept getting delay after delay-- something wasn't right, a hassle here, a hassle there. All the while, I was ready. Ready. READY. READY!! to get on that wait list for our second daughter.

I remember my social worker sending me an email to tell me that those stupid child abuse checks weren't going to be done for weeks. Then, it took (seemingly) forever for those weeks to pass and for our homestudy to be completely ready. With our second adoption, we did a lot of the hurry up and wait that so many people talk about.

Being powerless to control my own fate and the fate of my family was... frustrating. Beyond frustrating. As anyone who knows me in "real life" can attest, I'm not a patient person by nature, and I like to be in control. Waiting for something to be completed, waiting for a homestudy to be written or reviewed, or waiting to get put on a waiting list, they were all very hard for me.

This is why adoption the second time around was both easier and more difficult at the same time. Easier because we knew where to go and what to do and how the process worked. More difficult because of those same reasons, and of course, I'd also assigned my own ideas about how, when, where things should take place.

Even though we're not in the process to adopt again (and won't be ready for a little while longer), I'm still on my agency's listserv. Recently, there's been some talk about the lack of referrals and how painful the waiting is. People are getting discouraged, and I don't blame them one iota. I know the feeling, oh, how I know the feeling.

(Of course I'd also argue that the waiting for a referral is nothing compared to the pain of the waiting after the referral. The time between seeing R's face for the first time and holding her in my arms were some of the darkest, most painful months of my life-- probably even worse than when my grandmother died, which was horrific for me. I thought my heart was going to break in half. I could hardly bear the pain of those months. I cried. A lot. I was probably pretty useless to my family, friends, and students during that time, too. I literally felt the pain in my chest being lifted from my body when I held her the first time. For that reason, the emotion I felt when I finally did hold her was relief. I was so relieved that it was actually really happening, that she was actually my child. Up until that point, I kept waiting for something to happen that would keep us from her. Anyway, I digress...)

Hindsight, as "they" say, is 20/20. Looking back, knowing E's journey (what little of it I've been able to piece together) to us, it make sense. I can't tell you specifically what she was doing on this day 2 years ago, but obviously she wasn't ready to come home yet. Looking back, I can see how all the painful pieces of our waiting fit together... If we'd been a week earlier or even a few days later, it wouldn't be our E who fell asleep in my arms last night or whose voice called to me from her bedroom this morning or whose lips I kissed as she left to go to my friend M's house for the day.

In my agency's welcome to the program packet, there's a letter from the case managers. I don't know if it still says this, but when we got it both times, it said something like "at the end of your adoption journey, you will be a parent, you will have a child," etc. So, even though the waiting and process are painful and can be heartbreaking, in the end, I'm a mom, times 2. It really and truly does happen.

It can be long. It can be hard. It can push you right to the edge and dangle you there... but in the end, you really and truly will bring your child home. What happens after that, well, that can be painful and difficult, too, but that's for another post.

Cuteness. Extreme Cuteness.

Ugh, so frustrated. I've been trying two nights in a row to upload some recent pictures and have not been able to do it. I promise that the pictures are indeed extreme cuteness.

You were celebrated. And loved.

My E at referral at age 8 months. (The youngest known picture of her.)

My E at her 2nd birthday in Feb. (Amazes me sometimes that these pictures are the same child.)

I'm in the process (along with some other ET adoptive moms) of planning this year's culture camp. We had a meeting on Sunday, and we had invited some of the ladies from a nearby Ethiopian church. Two of the ladies from the church are not in fact Ethiopian, but a mother and daughter who have spent a lot of time in Ethiopia (both speaking Amharic and might as well be Ethiopian with everything they know about the culture and how much of their lives they've given to Ethiopia, etc...)

Anyway, we started talking about Ethiopian traditions and culture and how much more of an emphasis there is on the cycle of life in Ethiopia. Like how when a child is born, he or she is celebrated by the whole community-- everyone congratulations the ENTIRE family, not just the new mom and dad. Why? Because the family has gained a child. If someone dies, there is now another person to take their place. Children are adored, celebrated. Family stays and helps the new parents (new mom, really) for a good month, and the new mom is pampered. People celebrate the child in a way that we don't necessarily do in the United States.

It made me think about my E's birth. (I know "a lot" about R's birth in comparison so I don't have to infer as much there.) Did her family celebrate? Did everyone stay and help her birthmom as she adjusted to a new baby? When E cried, was she doted on by family members? Were her needs met? Was she adored? Loved?

Likewise, when she was relinquished, was she mourned? Did her birthfamily wail and cry for her as if she had died? Could you hear the cries from a quarter mile away? Do they think of her? Cry for her still? Miss her still? (How could they not?)

I want my E to know that even though we don't know much about the first part of her life in Ethiopia with her birthfamily, she was loved. Her birth was celebrated. She was wanted and cherished and when she left, she was missed.

E, I promise someday I will have more answers for you... for me... for us both. And I want her birthfamily in Ethiopia to know that she is still celebrated, loved, and cherished.

Facebook

I think Facebook is so weird. I've been on it for a little over a year-- right after we brought E home, I joined mainly to stay in touch with members of our travel group. (And because my BFF wouldn't stop harassing me about it.)

However, now I'm "friends" on Facebook with people from high school, some co-workers, other adoptive parents, my friends, and family. I think the family "friends" are the weirdest for me. I was just looking at some pictures of my cousin B, who's about 7 years younger than me and whom I haven't seen in about 8 years (at least I THINK she came to my wedding...). B doesn't post much, but her younger sister, my cousin M, does. M's a college student, and, for the life of me, I have no real memories of her from childhood (or B and M's even younger brother, N, for that matter!). To be honest, I have no clue how I even became "friends" with them on Facebook to begin with.

I do remember B, though, as she was born before my grandma died. I think she was probably about 4 when that happened, so we would have spent time together for the first four years of her life. My brother J and I used to call her "B the Brat," umm, because she was... a brat... when she was really young. It's weird to see her now as an adult with a fiancé and a career and a life.

It's also weird to me that I have cousins I don't really know. I wish that my parents would have made it more of a priority for our family to, well, stay a family after my grandma died. I guess that happens, but I think it is sad that I'm "friends" with these strangers who are also my cousins.

I think in that aspect, it is nice that Facebook is around to keep us in touch in some way or another. Even if I don't really know my cousins anymore, I do enjoy reading their updates and keeping touch with them at least in some way.