Changes

With news of potential corruption and attendant slowdowns in the Ethiopia program, we moved to the Korea program. We hadn't yet been married three years when we started this process, so we weren't eligible for a Korean adoption. Now we are; now we've been married four and a half years. Sigh.

We've been matched with our little now-eight-month-old boy, Seong Joon Francis. We'll call him Frankie but always leave his Korean name as his rightful first name, should he choose to use it as he grows older. He's in foster care right now, with foster parents. We won't be able to travel to get him for around a year. Meanwhile, I delay sending him a care package. We can send only one, I think, so that's all he'll receive from us. When he gets it, our contact is over. It's breaking my heart.

We started our adoption process three years ago February. This whole thing has broken my heart. I was prepared for the ups and downs, the roller coaster of emotions. I was prepared for things to get out of my control and to have my own issues with that. But this has been so incredibly much harder than I'd ever imagined. And due to our ages, I think we will have to be content with two children in our family.  My husband doesn't know this yet, but that's a hard pill for me to swallow right now. Family planning has been taken out of my control in more ways than one. And it's painful.

I keep repeating the word painful. Seeing Seong Joon's face has been joyous as well. Knowing he is ours, that we are merely biding our time until we're united with him has been joyous. Knowing he's safe and spending his first years in his native land is a sweet relief and a sweet melancholy (he's bonding with a woman who's not me!).

I'm going to try to "grow" this blog but I'm still feeling so shy and hesitant about it. Even this little teeeeeeensy bit of the blogosphere makes me feel very unprivate. Yet I'm all about Facebook. Lord. Showing my age here, I guess.

I'd like to blog about the Twin Cities adoption community and how welcoming it's been to us in my next post.

And the wait goes on

I'm still new to blogging. I still don't really understand how it works, to be honest (though I certainly read my share of blogs) and still feel shy and precarious as I adjust to this new world.

For instance, can I put a paragraph break here? We shall see.

We've now passed our expected two-year wait by two weeks. To put that in context, we started the process three years ago. When we finished the paperwork and home study and an extra three months required of us by the home study social worker, our dossier went to Ethiopia in December 2008. We were expecting a nine month wait. That number swiftly climbed to one year and then, when we hit the one year mark, was pushed out another year.

So here we are. Still waiting. I couldn't say this is the most painful thing I've had to endure in my life. My father died young and I've been diagnosed with some scary health stuff...the same thing anyone of my age has likely endure. But this adoption is certainly up there.

The social worker has no expectation for when we might receive the call. We have to be near the top of the list. Our agency is referring people (matching with children) those who have been waiting since December 2008. But still we wait.

Due to changes in the program, the wait for our first court date is also protracted, now six months, down from about three months. We will travel to Ethiopia and appear before the court, who ideally will say the child is now legally ours. Then we wait a few months (or more) for an embassy appointment.

I don't think I can do this anymore, frankly. It's been three years like this. Meanwhile, Alvin turned five in November. He was two when we started this process. I don't think I can do this anymore.

Let's begin

 What I want this space for is so complex and painful to articulate, much less to live. My husband and I hope to adopt a child from Ethiopia. We’ve been “officially waiting”  (paperwork completed and submitted) for nearly 23 months to be matched with a child. We began the process nearly three years ago.

Yes I am and always have been aware of the complex and interrelated nature of international adoption and child trafficking. No, I cannot resolve this inter-relation. I struggle with this discrepancy every day. I haven’t resolved it and never will. I apologize for it every day. Just as I apologize when I walk into a big-box store and am overwhelmed and sickened at the amount of needless garbage on display.

I don’t consider myself a deeply private or modest person but I do have fears with this blog. Does the world need another freakin’ adoption blog? No. Another space for a prospective adoptive parent to whine like this? No. Another mommy blog? Absolutely not. I’m putting this out here to make one person’s struggles with this issues public and, more importantly, to connect with other adoptive—whether post or pre—parents.

Right now I’m alone in this. Twenty-two months with no end in sight. Twenty-two months and I’m not waiting for the phone to ring. Twenty-two months and our son gets older (and so do we). He’ll be five next week; he was two when we began. He’s already so much older than his sibling. Why bother any more? I can’t answer that right now, as today is a beaten-down day. But others aren’t.