Adopting "AJ"

I saw this on someone's blog awhile back and I thought it was a super cute idea. Not as in adoption being a cute idea, but the picture of just hair. Particularly when it's ridiculously adorable hair like this boy. OUR boy. 

Just the fact that I'm even writing about our adoption at this point feels like a little steam has been released from the pressure cooker. It feels good...kind of.  After the millionth time of getting the green light from my hubby that I was good to go and write whatever I wanted...I decided to just do it. Writing it down just makes the whole thing seem so much more real...and it makes me fearful that now that I'm actually getting it out there, it will just as easily be erased. After all, the paperwork is not complete and this little boy is not yet a part of his forever family. So while I'm freaking excited, I'm freaking terrified that everything can come crashing down in a moment. That is where faith and trust in God takes over and I have to just know that once again I am not in control. It really will work out the way it's meant to. 

That being said? This process is UNREAL and will screw with even the sanest person's emotions. But writing that sentence as I look at my son's hair makes it all worthwhile. 

Before I go any further-  let me say, these are all MY feelings. These are not Will's, nor anyone else who is going through the adoption process. Each person has their own unique journey and reasons that bring them to this spot. I claim no one's feelings but my own. 

We chose this path because we feel strongly that we were at a point in our lives that we wanted to expand our family and adoption was the way we wanted that to happen. Without getting into the nitty gritty of all the details and how everything has come to fruition, I will give a brief over view of our journey thus far. 

We began our inquiries into adopting in February 2013. Here's how I felt during that particular time...

Paper Elephants….

November 2013

Do you know that elephants are pregnant for 22 months? Can you even imagine that??? I can.

For whatever reason, I’m feeling hyper-sensitive today. I’m searching the internet for names, looking at baby clothes, toys…wondering and imagining what my life will be like with another child in our family. I’m an emotional basket case- feelings are all over the place and I’m increasingly volatile. In short? I’m a mess. The catch? I’m not “physically” pregnant. My girlfriend who has been through this very same process, wrote me the briefest of emails the other day and it touched me to my core.

Congratulations on your paper pregnancy.

I’ve been pregnant before and I have an amazing six year old son to show for it. I remember my pregnancy in all its unpleasantness and amazingness quite vividly. The quiet flutters, those first kicks, the endless nausea. I recall that moment when I began to “show” and all of the unsolicited parenting advice that soon followed. I knew that as the sole carrier of that child, I had free reign to talk freely about cravings, morning sickness and the building anxiety and excitement that came with carrying and growing a child within my womb.

Here I sit almost 7 years later at the very beginning of my paper pregnancy and I feel like I really can’t talk about it. What is there to say? HEY EVERYONE!!!!! WE’RE ADOPTING!!!!!! AND THAT MY FRIENDS IS ALL I KNOW!!!!! What else is there to say? We have been “approved?! That we’ve have been through the paper rabbit trails, appointments, physicals and were found to be of fit and sound mind to raise a child? That our home-study has been approved.? That we are filling out our 1600A forms? That we have written out the big checks and are on a waiting list? That no…we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl…. No, we don’t know the age…no, we don’t know how long it’s going to be. Actually, we don’t really know anything at all.

And when we do know something, I still won’t tell you.

Adoption to me is like always being in a perpetual state of miscarriage. Perhaps a pessimist’s way of looking at it, but it is similar to a high-risk pregnancy. There are so many unknown variables, always, constantly, walking on eggshells. Even as you near the end of term and are matched with that child, until he or she is in your arms, t’s crossed, papers stamped, nothing is definite. Nothing is concrete. My husband said that we can tell people when we are matched and en-route to picking up our child. I completely agree that this would be the best time. That is however potentially 1 ½-2 years down the road and I want to talk about it. I need to talk. Yet, here I sit feeling isolated, alone, as if no one else has been in this position before. 

From Paper to Glass

April 2014

Merriam-Webster’s definition of Process.

pro·cess noun \ˈprä-ˌses, ˈprō-, -səs\ : a series of actions that produce something or that lead to a particular result

Here I sit, once again a spinning top of thoughts and essentially a walking disaster. How any social workers find any potential parents to be of sound mind throughout this process is beyond me. Happily I’ve not yet had my waiting status revoked.

I will tell you this. I am amazed at God’s hand throughout this process. Why? Again, speaking to my girlfriend who has been there, we were commiserating and agreed that not having faith when proceeding with adoption would be nearly impossible. To not believe that all things work out for good, for the VERY best…well, if I’m a mess now, I cannot even begin to imagine not having my faith.

With that being said, this past week has brought on a tidal wave of emotion that I was neither prepared for or expecting. What was I was expecting you ask? Two year wait time and court time, which I had initially forgotten about)…so tack on an additional 9-11 months. Yup, about 3 years more. Agonizing, but this is what I signed up for.

What I was not expecting was that one year to the day we received the application form from our agency in the US, April 8^th, we would then receive an email addressed to all waiting families with information on two boys that were waiting for their forever families. Due to the need of giving these little boys EVERY opportunity to find a family, there was no matching or selection process. The larger the pool the better! Look out for those pirrahanas! Yeah. Probably not the best point in this story to throw in sarcasm, but that is essentially at the time how it felt. A foot race to the finish,that I would never win. Let’s face it- athleticism is not my strong suit.

Upon reading both of the referrals, the information on the little baby boy peaked our interest and we proceeded to email our social worker back for additional information. Keep in mind that we read the email at 7:00 AM, meaning it was sent around 4 PM CA time. I went in it feeling as if I had the distinct advantage being 12 hours ahead with a full day looming before me to research and explore. (Yeah, so the pirahanna in question would actually be me).Our social worker commented on our rapid reply, but please, the Cooper’s don’t mess around.

The pictures of baby J nearly killed me. He was precious. He IS precious. I was falling…and hard.

This process sucks.

I was freaking out.

My husband was the picture of calm.

This TOTALLY pissed me off.

I reviewed the documents they sent.

I freaked out once more and was lost in the medical jargon.

I called our family Dr. to review the info and got an apt for 3:30.

Fast fwd to 3:30.

I printed out the huge packet of information, gathered up Wyatt and biked over to Dr. K. He read over the information in 10 minutes and deemed baby J a healthy little boy. Immediately following this declaration was my son’s hearing test which consisted of Dr.K snapping his fingers in front of Wyatt’s ear, affirming that he could indeed hear him, followed by shuffling us out. Seriosuly Dr. K?! Short of begging the Dr. to please just take the information home…humor me…look it over I asked, he still took that 10 minutes.

Oh well. At the end of the day, I wanted to ensure that there was nothing glaring in Chinese, something that was perhaps translated incorrectly. You get what you pay for and that review was free.

I waited for Will to come home so we could decide what our next step would be. At the very beginning of this process we had promised ourselves, and each other that we would not and COULD not rush to a hasty decision. Because that’s what it is, a process. Racing against other families just felt wrong and weird and it wasn’t fair to anyone involved. The next step was getting a second opinion from a pediatrician who specializes in international adoption. Before plopping down that pile of cash, Will and I agreed to contact our social worker to ascertain how many families were pursuing baby J and if a lot, then perhaps we should save this money for when were specifically matched. Still with me? I know. It’s endless.

We were the only family that had requested his information. THE ONLY FAMILY. I was speechless. Our social worker did mention that she was unsure about other agencies at this point however, but she could speak for our agency.

Cue more unrest, hyper anxiety and acute nausea.

Still April 8^th 2014. Longest. Day. Ever.

That evening I emailed the pediatrician and she was immediate within her response- she would review his information and get back to us. In increments over the following three days, she reviewed, requested and emailed us back. While yes, premature, he had the normal delays of a preemie, but was developing accordingly and as expected. We would and should continue to review his monthly developmental records.

April 11^th- Will and I talked, prayed and decided to go forward. We would continue to request his monthly information and send it to the specialist to review. Barring any deteriorating condition of baby J that we would not physically be able to accommodate, we were committing to become his adoptive parents. I emailed our social worker.

Questions lingered. Were we too late? Were there other agencies?

More Nausea.

More doubts, freaking, anxiety…the works.

The night of April 11^th, I had a hard time sleeping, as I waited impatiently for our social worker’s response. By 1:30AM I went to bed only to awaken at 3:30AM to check my email. Sure enough, she emailed (thank God for her responsiveness)and said that we were the only family that had committed to baby J and that his orphanage had only initially sent the information to our/their agency.

More freaking out. Talking to close friends, family…the excitement was all-consuming.

Today- April 16^th- I’m not quite off the wave of excitement, but I’m on solid ground now, relinquished to the notion that I have almost an entire year left of waiting. If I were to continue at the rate of which I was going…no sleep, anxiety, doubts, negativity; that everything was going to go to crap…you know, just the barrage of internal bashing that I was inflicting upon myself, I was not going to make it. Period. End of story. (my son says I say this a lot…and it seems fitting here).

So where does this leave me? Well. It’s more than a paper pregnancy at this point. There’s been a progression! There’s a little boy 3 hours down the road by train that will one day hold our last name. There is a little boy that we have committed to- to become our son. There is a precious little boy that is going to developmentally change in spades over the next 9-11 months, and I am going to miss all of those amazing milestones-BUT- everything after that? I’ll cherish, soak up and not dwell on what wasn’t possible. FYI- So much easier to type those words then to believe them.

Having not even been “formally approved” by the orphanage (which my social worker assured me no family has ever been denied), I continue to be a bubble about to burst at any given moment. My husband is less than expressive and verbose in exclaiming his excitement. Essentially, what I have done is told a number of people that we’re “pregnant” at the moment of conception instead of waiting for the first tri-mester to go by smoothly. Oops.  I just couldn’t help it. This, my friends is where the paper has officially turned to glass. What was once a mere thought- a promise, has turned into a precious, fragile reality. At any moment this reality can come crashing to the ground, breaking in a million pieces. I can only pray that if that happens I’m not irreparably damaged in the process.