A Series of Unfortunate Events

My paper chase has been slogging along for the past several months and yes, slogging, is the best word I can think of.  It has been frustrating, and depressing, and aggravating, and just plain annoying.  What it hasn’t been is anyone’s fault. 

First my FBI prints had to be redone (prints which, by the way, I need to finish my home study so I can complete the next step and go get fingerprinted…by the FBI!!)

Then I misread a paper and needed to get more state clearances for my sister and I.

Her clearance had to come from Boston….the week of the bombing

Then the person who checks home studies at my agency was in China…during an earthquake

When it got the okay and was sent back to the home study agency the person there was on vacation.

Then the post office lost my check.

Then

Then

Then

One hit after another.  And as for me?  Well I didn’t handle it well.  I got mad, and grumpy, and depressed.  And I wanted to yell at someone, or cry, or maybe yell at someone while I cry.  Not that any of it would help.  And I started counting the weeks and months of waiting I have ahead of me.  My dreams of having him home by Thanksgiving, turned into dreaming of Christmas, and now, well now I hope he’s here by my birthday in March.  

And I realized one morning that those extra months mean I have more time to tackle my biggest worry…money. More time to work and scrimp and save and continue to do anything (legal) for money.  That my two biggest prayers is that he is safe and loved, and that I am able to figure out the money side of this adoption.

    

I’m not saying that I’m over the moon excited that things are delayed, but a good friend reminded me recently that my boy is just living his life, he has no idea who I am, and he doesn’t share my worries.  He is just happy (this I am sure off, as the kind of joy he showed in his video simply can’t be faked).  So while I might worry and cry and get grumpy (I apologize in advance for mood at Christmas this year) I have been given a chance to save more.  A blaring reminder that prayers are not always answered in the way we expect them, but they are answered.  So I will continue to work.  And fund raise.  And scrimp, and save.  And my boy will come home when he is meant to come home.

 In the meantime, my papers are moving forward.  I have all but one item (the long awaited I800A) that I need to complete the dossier.  Everything else is currently being certified and authenticated so that when the I800 comes through I will be ready.   China gave me a deadline of August 21^st to have my completed dossier submitted and, with my luck it will be there on August 20^th at 11:59 pm…but it will get there.   I am hanging my hopes on that.

Choices

I generally get one of two reactions when I tell people that I am adopting.

Reaction One usually involves smiles, congrats, and (in many cases) squealing and wiping away happy tears when I show off Jonah's picture (my boy is cute y'all).

Reaction Two is often a quick glance at my ring finger to see if I'm married.  A slight pause.  And then (usually) the appropriate smiles, congrats, and squeals of excitement.

But then there was yesterday. Yesterday I got a reaction I've never had before.  It went a little something like this...

Other Person:  "Is there anything new happening in your life?"

Me:  "Yes, actually, I'm adopting a little boy from China."

Other Person:  searching for a wedding ring that isn't there and asking:  "Are you married"

Me:  "No"

Other Person:  "What's wrong with you"

(end scene)

My initial reaction was stunned silence, and I really, really wanted to say something obnoxious, and sarcastic, and just plain mean, back to this other person, what I said was "I don't know". 

Then I went home and imagined exactly what I would have said if I had a little bit more chutzpah and a little less class.

But seriously, this motherhood, this single motherhood, is something that I am choosing.  It's not a second thought, not a reaction to a biological clock, not a desperate cry for attention, and not a result of a relationship that didn't work out.  I'm not wearing rose-tinted glasses.  I don't imagine that it's going to be easy.  But it is a choice. A good choice.  My choice. 

Being a mother is the only thing that I ever knew for sure that I wanted.  Growing up I didn't know what kind of job I wanted (still don't for that matter).  I didn't know where I wanted to live.  I didn't know what type of car I wanted to drive or what type of house I wanted to live in.  What I did know, with absolute certainty, is that I wanted to be a mom.

That I was born to be a mom.

That I was going to be a kick-ass mom.

And no, I'm not married.  And yes, lots of people think that's a bad thing.  But I'm okay with that.  And I'm okay with letting others think that.  Because I'm about to make all of my dreams come true. 

And as for you, Other Person.  Well, you can suck it. 

(what can I say, class is overrated)

Ipad Mini Raffle

My big fundraiser for my adoption is a raffle.  I have a brand new ipad mini to raffle off to one lucky winner. I am hoping to raise a total of $8,000 through this raffle, a number which can absolutely be reached! 

Tickets are $10 each or 3 for $25.  You can purchase through paypal by clicking the donate button on the right. I also have tickets I can mail out, or deliver in person, if you prefer to do things the old fashioned way!

For those of you wondering how you can help, here's your chance, I have packets of tickets for anyone interested in helping to sell. 

The drawing for the Ipad will be on June 2nd at my church and you do not have to be present to win.  I will deliver the ipad, or get it in the mail, to the winner on June 3rd. 

I am so excited about this journey to motherhood and hope you will consider buying a ticket.

Thanks so much!

Jesse (and Jonah)

Fundraising

The idea of fundraising for an adoption can be a controversial topic.  There are people who love it, people who hate it, and both groups are liable to give their opinion whether you want to hear it or not.

People who hate it argue that adopting is the same as giving birth and you don't see any pregnant woman out there fundraising for their impending delivery.  Some people think that the idea of fundraising is in poor taste and that you shouldn't even be thinking about adopting if you can't afford it, and anyway you should just work for it you lazy bastard (okay that last part might be a bit off)

But the truth of the matter is that adoption is not the same as giving birth.  And, aside from a few lucky individuals who have the means to pay for adoptions outright (I'm looking at you Brangelina), the average family does have to scrimp and save and apply for loans or grants, and fund raise, to make their adoption dreams come true.

Not having given birth myself I can't be sure, but I am fairly certain that the average pregnant woman doesn't have to walk into the delivery room with thousands of dollars in cash (new bills only please) to pass out to each person assisting in the birth.  Likewise, the average pregnant woman doesn't have to pay for flights, and hotels, and travel expenses to the hospital.  There are no immigration papers to file, fingerprints to be had (over, and over, and over), no translation fees, no courier fees, no agency, fees.  

Adoption is just expensive.  Stinking expensive.

I am a public school teacher, a profession not known for large salaries (I do it for the kids y'all...also, summer vacation).  I also work a part time job, have picked up two different summer teaching positions, have painted rooms, watched dogs, and picked up people's mail when they are out of town.  I am not afraid to work, and work hard to make money.  But all that still isn't enough.  As such I have been, and will be fundraising for my adoption.  Not because I want a free handout, not because I don't want to work hard, but because that's what I have to do to bring my son home.

Because I'm a mom.  And there is nothing I wouldn't do for that little boy.

Up and Down

The past few weeks have been filled with such a wave of emotions that I feel kind of like I'm riding an insane roller coaster that is simultaneously shoving joy and fear down my throat and I just have to hang on and try not to vomit.  It's like the adoption equivalent of gestational diabetes.  You know it will stop when you get to bring your child home, but are stuck dealing with it in the mean time.  And every adoptive parent I know has felt this so it's not a unique experience, just a new one.  I feel like I go from zero to SUPER emotional in less then 60 seconds.

I got PA  (happy happy day)

Home study trucking along (Woohoo! Life is great!)


FBI prints still not here  (WTH)

Home study not quite finished (annoyed, annoyed, annoyed)

Home study can be finished this week  (Woohoo! What was I thinking?  Life is amazing!)

Prints still not here (depths of despair)

And I know it will go on, and on, and on right up until Gotcha Day and there is NOTHING I can do about it. In fact, it is only going to get worse.  As a control freak I find this disconcerting.  As someone who loves my friends and family I'd like to apologize in advance for any wild mood swings  that occur over the next 7-9 months.  I'd over compensate for it with comfort food but I have to fit comfortably into an airplane seat in the Fall so please feel free to tell me to go away until then.

There is a lot of fear that goes along with adopting.  I worry about paperwork getting lost. I worry about attachment (a LOT).  I worry about money.  I worry about getting everything done in time.  I worry about money.  I worry about how he will react on Gotcha day.  I worry that he will freak out and I won't be able to comfort him (which is a real possibility).  I worry about money.  I worry about what his room should look like.  I worry about bringing him clothes that fit (like he'll care).  I worry about natural disasters or Avian Flu delaying the process. I worry about whether or not he will like me.  I worry about accidentally drinking unboiled water during travel and having to use a squatty potty.  And I worry about money.

That's a lot to worry about. 

It's exhausting.

So when it gets to be too much.  I step away.  I watch a 2 minute video of my little guy running and bouncing and smiling and laughing.  And I remember to breathe. 

To China With Love

The journey to adoption is never an easy one and mine has been longer, and more complicated, than some. I started about three years ago when I was sure that I was destined to adopt internationally.  I looked at multiple country programs and nearly followed through with one, but I always had reservations.  Some small part of me that was unsure of my decision.  I finally decided that my hesitation came from my program of choice.  After all, my desire to be a mother has never wavered, but I often pictured myself with an infant and in the international adoption world infant placements are not common.  Added to that the fact that I would be adopting as a single mother,  I was pretty much guaranteed to adopt an older child.

Knowing all of that I decided to enter the world of Domestic adoption.  I completed all the paperwork  and made my profile book and sent it all of in hopes that a birth mother would see it and pick me....

No one ever did.  It sucked.  A lot.  And every time my profile was shown I would tell myself not to get my hopes up (but I did), and not to think about the child (but I did), and not to dream about the child (but I did).

And every time I was rejected I told myself not to take it personally....but I did.  Oh, I did.  And I would begin to analyze every picture and word in my profile.  And my self-esteem, well it took a flying leap off of the Empire State Building and smeared itself all over the intersection of 5th Avenue and 34th Street.  Because those profiles are personal, very, very personal so rejecting it meant rejecting me.  There was something they saw in it that made them say no.  Was it my clothes, or weight, or hair, or house?  I don't know but for two years I watched friends have children and I still didnt and so I was finished.  I have this theory that the female psyche can only handle a finite amount of rejection over the course of a lifetime and I had reached mine.

But then my niece turned six, which is significant only in that it opened the doors to China for me as a single woman.  And my thoughts turned to Chinese orphanages and little kids with my nieces dark hair and almond eyes.  But I didn't say anything.  To anyone.  For months.  Until the beginning of a New Year, and I felt ready to start a new journey.  So I started back down the paperwork trail.  I started looking for grants to apply for and fundraisers to start.

And I started looking at files.  Files of little boys with special needs that didn't seem all that special to me.  And one Tuesday night, at 11:30pm, my sister texted me from her bedroom downstairs to tell me there were new kids on my agencys list.  And just like that.  With the click of a button and a few taps on the ipad I fell straight into the eyes of this boy.

And suddenly it all seemed worth it.

Dreamweaver

I had a dream last night that Jack Donaghy gave me 

11 MILLION DOLLARS

It was for unspecified reasons (although I’m sure it was all completely aboveboard and not at all shady).  He gave it to me in increments of 50,000 cash, enclosed in 99 cent pencil cases from Target (okay that part was kind of shady).  Clearly one of two things must be true.

Thing 1: I am about to receive a gift of 11 million dollars from the fictional head of GE television and microwave programming

Thing 2: I watch entirely too much television

I’m going to go with Thing 1 because in that scenario I also get to meet Tina Fey (also, I'd have 11 MILLION DOLLARS).   I’ve totally been practicing how to act so I don’t just try to smell and hug her like when Liz Lemon met Oprah (“Liz Leeeemmmmmooooooonnnnnnnn”).  In my head I mostly just laugh like a lunatic at everything she says. It's weird how even in my head I act like an idiot around famous people. 

Did I mention that I might watch too much television?

In other news, it’s been over a week since I’ve seen either Mad-Eye Moody or Lolita, so they have either been foiled in their attempt to eat our cat food by our cleverness (aka moving the chair so they can’t get on the table), or they are off making a slew of tiny, ugly babies.  And I swear to you if they roll up in a multicolored bus singing Come On Get Happy I am moving...somewhere (without opossums)