We're moving right along, friends!
I remember back in the first days of January, filling out our application in my very neatest handwriting, attempting to describe myself and explain what might make me a good adoptive parent. Pretty printing, perhaps? I thought I had the process figured out pretty well from what I had read by that point, and from the general knowledge I had of adoption. (As with Motherhood, specifically, as well as...everything else, it is always best to take a walk in a pair of shoes before assuming you know what they feel like.) It is difficult to believe we have only been in the technical process for under two months, because of how sure we have become over this time period, and how well we have gotten to know the way things work, and what we may expect in bringing our baby home.
It is quite the learning and growing process, beginning last summer as I sat up late nights bawling over adoption blogs and YouTube videos, emailing our closest friends and family in a bit of a desperate manner, asking them to pray. (Note to self: That would be God shaking you by the shoulders, declaring it Time.) After that came The News to share with family and friends, that yes it was happening, and for sure we would like you to celebrate with us. There was the hard part, where we were rejected a couple times, which was followed by sadness and anger, for both our situation and for our baby, who already having so much up against him in his little life, really deserved no more. There has been the learning part, about (our) new country and about the physical and emotional needs of a child who has lost his mother and father, has likely been malnourished and improperly cared for.
There have been times of celebration with our three children, over and over as we listen to them talk of their brother and/or sister as if they are already ours, just waiting to come home. Locating our specific country together on the world map, reading adoption books from the library, and oh the excitement for trying out a new language.
We've been asked approximately twelve million times, which seems to be the common question from what I understand, why not the United States. WHY NOT WHY NOT? Never have we been asked this by another adoptive couple, of course, because adoptive parents seem to understand that complaining about where a family adopts from, whether it domestic or overseas, is like griping that your auto mechanic is not your dentist. Both necessary, no? All human babies needing families, yes? I am often moved to reply with a request to see photos of theirrrrr domestic foster children, then, but alas, it is sassy and not ultimately helpful to my cause. For the record, we regularly support the Northwest Indiana Food Pantry Backpack Program, St Jude Children's Hospital, the Indiana Firefighter's Hoosier Burn Camp and for eight years, now even with the involvement of our own children, have purchased backpacks and school supplies for underprivileged kids in a nearby school system. We do like kids, all over the place.
EDITED TO ADD: As I slept on this thought, I realized it possible that I came off, here, sounding like answering a question about our adoption was obnoxious, and that wasn't my intention. What brought us to Africa? is somehow quite different, curious and interested, in my mind, from Why NOT the United States? That question brings me back to each time there is a natural disaster somewhere beyond our borders, eg. Haiti, and there is always someone who wags his finger at fellow Americans who offer their support, because there are hungry/homeless/needy people in our country. While it is true, that our country also has needy, I can never appreciate an attitude of superiority, as if non-Americans count for three fifths of a person or something, at least until all of OURRR problems are solved, most especially when that attitude is carried by people who aren't helping anyone, here or there.
Kevin and I drove down to Indianapolis last week for our first Home Study meeting. We tried not to sound like the overly positive peaches & cream, roses, champagne, goals goals goals and sparkling sunshine couple that talked too damn long, but, eh, we failed. Our interviewer practically had to shove us through the front door after a couple hours, much like the end of each MTV Cribs episode. "Give us a baby!" we beseeched the woman as we tumbled backwards down the front stairs. And then she cracked the door one last time to remind us that she only has to write a report on the story of our lives. She doesn't have the babies.
We soothed our exhausted nerves with greasy burgers followed closely by big fat cups of cookie dough ice cream for the long drive home. We had talked even ourselves to death, and once home we alternated napping and staring blankly at the ceiling, and at our other children for the rest of the day.
So someone else is coming to our house next week, for our home inspection. You'll understand for a girl like me that this means without question, tearing apart closets and reorganizing games and homeschool supplies by type. Clearly, this is the time to Panic!
Of course we can raise a baby! We are a house with googly eyes!
Oh, nevermind.
Eleven days out, I am finally decorating walls I'd not gotten around to previously.
We have children! We like them!
In a snap decision on Sunday afternoon, I decided to finally banish our embarrassingly beat-up buffett from the kitchen, and happily replaced it with new shelves and baskets. I hear there is a movement coming about, where adoptive parents are denied children based on dining room furniture with chunks taken out of them by their other crazy children. Crisis averted.
Crisis not averted. (Antenna-headed child will climb anything.)
I have just shy of two weeks left to shampoo carpets and finish organizing closets, kitchen cabinets and bedrooms, and to display the best of what my Right Brain has come up with for homeschool. Did I mention that we have twelve chicken eggs and a giant incubator showing up here just days before that visit? Heh.
As any mother knows, I shall leave the toy cleaning for last. Remind me to remove the girl from the toy basket before re-stocking it. It will probably not look good if I cannot find one of my children at the time of the visit.
