Kaleb's Homecoming

Countless times, I have heard adoptive parents declare that their child was meant to be with them.  That the hands of fate miraculously paired the right child to the right parents and that all the waiting and paperwork and moments of wondering if this will ever happen erase from memory as soon as that child comes home.  Sounds lovely, but I had my doubts.  I figured, kids were matched with families on a list, the family gets the kid, and love blossoms over time, ultimately resulting in bold "meant to be" statements. 

Hands up!

Now that Kaleb is home, I take that back.  There is no doubt in my mind that he was destined to be part of our family.  It isn't just his personality that clicks so well with the dynamics in our household, nor is it the way his face lights up when food is heading his way just as James and I appreciate a good meal.  It isn't just his gentle nature or his obvious thoughtfulness of others (he always shares his snacks with his sisters).  It is just this overwhelming gut feeling that he is our son.  There is an invisible connection between us and the feeling is mutual.  Kaleb instinctively turns to us for comfort and even in the midst of a very exciting game of trucks with Paige, he toddles over to me for a hug.  I get in now.  Just as when I gave birth I understood how you can instantly fall in love.

So, let me back pedal a few weeks since a lot has happened since I last posted (time has been slipping away from me leaving me little time to brush my teeth let alone sit down and write).  When we returned home from our court hearing, we jumped right back into life.  The inn was getting busier as the summer approached and renovations on our house were almost complete which meant moving back (we accumulated an ungodly amount of stuff at our temporary residence), and getting our house back in order.  We were busy and as is usual with our lives, time was flying.  Then, four weeks after being home, we got an email from our agency requesting a whole bunch of paperwork to be completed, notarized and overnighted so we could be submitted to embassy.  We somehow dropped everything and got the documents in the mail just five minutes before the UPS store closed.  Phew!  We thought this meant at least six more weeks of waiting, but unexpectedly, we were submitted to embassy two weeks later and were cleared to travel the week after that.  We found out we were clear to travel on May 14th and left for Addis on the 16th.  Those 36 hours are a complete blur.  Actually, the last month is a blur!

This time we flew on Emirites, a really impressive airline.  We flew Boston to JFK (a quick hour flight) and then connected to Dubai where we had such a long layover, Emirites put us up overnight.  Wahoo!  A night in Dubai.  We took full advantage and since our bags were checked through to Addis, we took a cab from the airport right to the Dubai Mall.  I'm not one to use texting lingo, but OMG.  James is damn lucky we didn't have a whole lot of time, because that place is a sprawling - possible a couple miles - of every single shop you can imagine.  There is a huge aquarium in the middle of the mall and the place was teaming with people - and this was at 10pm.  Thankfully for James, I was too famished to even shop, so we found a Lebonese restaurant with outdoor seating overlooking the famous Dubai fountains and caught some of the last fountain shows of the night.   Then, after a fabulous gelato, we headed to the hotel where we got a great night sleep before leaving for Addis the following morning.

Who is this guy?

Ah, Addis.  It was great to be back.  When we arrived at the guest house, a representative from our agency immediately called to go through our itinerary.  In just a half hour, we would leave for the care center to visit Kaleb briefly and then would take custody of him the following day. 

You might recall from my previous post that Kaleb was very willing to hang with us and seemed to warm quickly to strangers.  This time was the complete opposite.  We travelled with another couple (the same couple we travelled with on our court visit) and we were all escorted into a room where the kids were presented to us.  Both kids burst into tears and pretty much remained that way for the next hour or so until it was time to leave.  Nothing we did seemed to appease our son.  We left feeling a little deflated.  What happened to the mellow little guy we left behind just six weeks ago?  We had been nervous about taking custody, but his reaction to us that day compounded our anxiety tenfold. 

We put our worries aside for the evening though, and decided to have one last adult night out for what could be weeks to come.  We had read about an Italian restaurant, Castelli’s, frequented by Brad Pitt on his visits to Ethiopia and decided to give it a whirl.  Brad has good taste.  There was a self service antipasto bar and some of the best homemade pasta I’ve ever had.  It was so good, we decided to share an extra dish.  We left full and sleepy, with hesitation, but most of all excitement about the following day.

Farewell Coffee Ceremony

Lunch at farewell ceremony

Saturday, May 18^th – custody day.  Once again, we travelled to the care center and once again, Kaleb took one look at us and wailed his head off.  After about 45 minutes, he had wiped himself out with his hysterics and fell asleep on me.  About an hour later, the staff told us it was time for the kids’ farewell ceremony so we woke them and the nannies took them behind the scenes to change them into traditional Ethiopian attire.  We were brought outside where a coffee ceremony had been set up on a beautiful cloth scattered with flowers.  There was popcorn and homemade bread and the kids were brought to us with big bowls of noodles which I was able to feed Kaleb without much fuss.  The kid could eat!  After enjoying some coffee and bread, we said our goodbyes to the nannies.  It was a hard moment taking our son from an environment and people he had come to trust.  But James held him tight in the van and he seemed to enjoy the ride where he fell asleep again.

2nd day in custody - coffee ceremony at Guest House

The next few days were priceless.  Kaleb slept a LOT at first.  We chalked it up to emotional exhaustion.  My major goal was to get him to smile by the time it was time to make our journey home.  But within 24 hours, we had a smile and within 36 hours, he was giving high fives and flirting with the two other adopted little girls staying at the guest house.  The vacant stare and uncertainty seemed to vanish overnight and we started getting to know the real Kaleb.  What a ham!  He danced for us, blew kisses, waved, played peek-a-boo, and even got a devilish look in his eyes when I told him no standing in the crib.  We bonded with him those days at the guest house waiting for the embassy to process his visa so he could travel.  We took him to the Sheraton to swim, out for dinner, and the guest house hosted a barbeque for all the couples staying so we got to know other adopted families who I’m sure we’ll always be in touch with.

BBQ at Guest House

Kaleb having breakfast at Guest House

The only kid in the world who loves to be tickled

 

Kaleb on airplane

On Thursday, we left Addis and began the long journey home.  Once again, we stopped over in Dubai, this time for a shorter time, but still five hours in the middle of the night, so James discovered an in-terminal hotel which we booked and crashed in for a few hours before making our connection to JFK.  Kaleb was a champion traveler.  He slept a good amount and was generally happy and content, though there were moments I thought I’d jump ship if I had the opportunity.  I got peed on and puked on, so those extra clothes I packed were worth lugging around!  After a four hour layover at JFK, we made the final leg of our trip to Boston and drove two hours back to the Cape, Kaleb’s first time in a car seat (he slept the entire ride).

Waiting for last leg at JFK



Kaleb's first carseat ride

Homecoming…wow, what a moment!  The girls and Grandma and Grandpa were anxiously awaiting our arrival in the driveway.  They were so excited, but understood he might be scared.  Right away, there was a connection between the siblings.  They gathered around him and like little mother hens welcomed him to our family.  Inside, they had lots to show him…his room, some trucks they had bought while we were away, drawings they had made, books they wanted to read.  They were in love.  And he was soaking up all the attention. 

Papa Time

That night was one of those transition nights – like the first night your baby is home from the hospital or the first night you sleep in a new house.  Everything feels strange.  But we managed to calm the girls down and get them dinner and baths – they insisted on taking a bath with their baby brother (which in hindsight may not have been the best idea since he later tested positive for giardia, but it was pretty cute).  They had a difficult time getting to sleep because they just wanted to play with their baby brother.  Abigail was in tears saying she couldn’t stop thinking about him and she missed him when he was sleeping.  But somehow, we got all three kids to sleep – miraculously, despite all expectations, Kaleb slept in his own room and went down a lot easier than his sisters.  Everyone was up early, of course, the kids eager to play, James ready to facilitate, and me, ready to go to work (no maternity leave in the innkeeping business!).

Three Car Seats!

Big Sister transporting the little ones

Today marks the three week anniversary of Kaleb’s homecoming.  I can’t believe it has only been three weeks.  It is like he has been here his whole life.  He understands a TON – go get your shoes, time to go upstairs to bed, time to get in the car, put your arms up (when getting changed) – and he attempts words too – mama, Abigail, truck, and cat.  He sleeps through the night for a solid twelve hours and naps for about three mid day.  He loves pasta and most carbs for that matter (that’s my boy!) and while we are still working on fruits, veggies, and ice cream (I’m sorry, but how can you grow up on the Cape and not like ice cream?), I’m sure his Ethiopian palate will eventually become Americanized and he won’t be able to get enough chicken nuggets and cookies.  We are still trying to kick the giardia, but he doesn’t seem uncomfortable.  In fact, he’s one of the happiest kids I think I’ve ever seen.

Proud Papa...Main Street, Chatham

Love ya big sis!

And that’s the story of Kaleb’s homecoming.  The process was took nearly three years – my longest and hardest “pregnancy.”  But what a reward at the end.  Our family of five is truly blessed.

Kaleb's first full day - out for lunch already!

 

 

Meeting Kaleb

 

We just returned from 2.5 weeks in Ethiopia. People ask how our trip was and I honestly have no idea how to answer. There is no word or phrase or even five minute conversation that can sum up the vast amount we saw and the range of emotions we felt.  In the Omo Valleyin the south of the country, we visited about a half dozen tribes. Some decorated their bodies with paint while another tribe’s tradition was stretching out the lower lip and inserting enormous discs into the stretched out space. The Hammer tribe women must cover their bodies in an orange clay which is to seep into their skin and shaved heads over a four month period. Only then can they get married. We visited one woman in the middle of this process. The hut in which she was“parked” was hot. Really hot. Yet, there was a blazing fire where the hostess of the house was roasting coffee for us. She served it in huge cups which were like hollowed out pumpkins while her naked toddler wandered over to her and helped himself to some milk from her breast. Conveniently, all the women are topless.

Our travels in the Omo Valley were by Land Cruiser.  No other vehicle could possibly have maneuvered the rocky dirt roads.  Asphalt is a rare luxury in Ethiopia.  We had a driver and a tour guide which sounds frivolous but it’s not.  It’s really the only way to travel in Ethiopia.  Between tribe visits, we stopped at markets where natives traded livestock like cattle and chickens as well as teff flour, coffee beans, hops, and locally produced woven blankets, tapestries and scarves.  We were often the only “forenges” (foreigners) as they called us and they were mesmerized by us.  Children stroked our arms as if our white skin might feel different from theirs.  They wanted me to take my sunglasses off to see my eyes and they ran their hands over our hair.  As we tried to make our way through the markets, they held our hands as if we were BFF’s.  We felt like celebrities. 

We hardly noticed the long drives that often ate up entire afternoons.  There was so much beautiful scenery – mountains and wildlife and PEOPLE.  In cities and villages, they were everywhere, walking the streets, always burdened by a back full of sticks or plastic jugs to transport water.  No one really owns cars so they walked from their village for miles in the hot, dry heat, many of the women sporting long dresses and scarves to cover their heads, to procure supplies.  There was no look of discontent, no complaining.  This was – is – their life.  As we got further from the towns, people would be more sparse, but there would always be a few, here and there.  What surprised us most were the young children, miles from any town, by themselves, just kind of hanging out.  There were two year olds, entirely nude, waiting for us “forenges” to drive by and as we approached, they would do little dances and shout, “hello, hello, hello,” in hopes we would stop and throw a granola bar or something out the window.  But visitors are not encouraged to do this, as tempting as it is.  Our tour guide assured us these children had homes and, like cats, would wander back when they got bored or hungry. 

In the North part of the country, we visited Lalibella – the rock churches and monestaries dating back to the ninth century.  We also spent a couple of unexpected nights at a resort in Deibre Zeyet, an hour and a half outside the capital, and a much needed reprieve from all our travels. Throughout our journeys, we feasted on local cuisine, drank the local wines and beers, and took great pleasure in eating with our hands as is customary.  We saw baboons, camels, mini deer-like creatures called dik diks, crocodiles, hippos, and all kinds of exotic birds.  And of course herds and herds of cows, goats and donkeys, sometimes outnumbering the huge volume of people in the streets.

As time permits over the next weeks (okay, months), I plan to post our day by day adventures.  Because there were many.  But despite the vacation of a lifetime, the highlight, of course, was meeting our son.  On Sunday, March 24th, our itinerary with our adoption agency began.  We flew from the south to Addis Ababa and stayed the night at Lucyland, a guesthouse most families adopting through our agency stay at.  By Ethiopian standards, it has all the bells and whistles including a driver who was happy to take us wherever we wanted and a chef who fed us well.

The next morning, we boarded a van along with another adoptive couple and drove to the agency offices where we were given an overview of Ethiopian culture and what to expect at the care center as well as a massive file with all our paperwork including Kaleb's birth certificate with an infant picture we had never seen. 

Then we drove three hours along the typical Ethiopian bumpy roads to Hossana, stopping along the way for a really great authentic Ethiopian lunch.  We arrived to Hossana early so checked into the hotel - $12/night! - and were told to meet in the lobby in an hour.  We decided to explore the town our son was from since we did not anticipate much more free time during our short stay in the area.  We found a driver who took us in a tuk tuk (three wheel taxi) all over.  He spoke no English, but pointed out different areas of the town and was so proud and gracious that we wanted to see his hometown, that we were several minutes late to leave for the care center - not something we really meant to be late for!!

We cannot yet post full pictures of Kaleb

The drive to the center was short, but felt like an eternity.  My heart was racing.  In just a few minutes, the moment we had been envisioning for the last 2.5 years would come to fruition.  I was prepared for stranger anxiety - tears, fear, possibly not being able to hold him as I so wanted to do.  We entered through a gate and found ourselves in a courtyard outlined with mattresses covered in blankets on which infants and toddlers could play.  There was a group of three children to our left - two boys and a girl.  The girl belonged to the other couple we were with and the care taker presented her to them and after she burst into tears, explained that stranger anxiety is normal and helped them transition and settle down with her.  We hung back taking it all in.  "There he is," James said, pointing toward the two boys.  "Which one?" I asked.  I couldn't seem to match a face to the pictures we had - plus, I wasn't really thinking straight.  Then one of the nannies picked up our son and brought him over to me.  I had trained for this for months - Jill, do not snatch him up and waltz him around the courtyard and expect him to giggle and hug you and never want to let you go.  So instead, I bent down to eye level and said a simple hi.  The nanny offered him to me and he didn't resist.  And that was that.  No crying.  So I hugged him close and again, he didn't resist.  I could have stayed like that for hours, but I decided it was only fair to let James have a chance and once again, when Kaleb was handed off to him, no tears.  Just a chilled out little man with curiosity written all over his face.  We played with him on the mattress and he liked these little plastic links we brought.  Twice, he whimpered, but it seemed to be more of a contagious cry as a result of some other kids melting down.  Once we picked him up and cuddled him, he stopped immediately. 

After more playing and cuddling and walking around the courtyard, the nannies offered coffee (which in Ethiopia you just don't refuse), so we gathered around a table where they placed a basket of popcorn to nibble on.  James, a huge popcorn fan, asked if Kaleb could have some.  They said sure,  but he didn't seem to know what to do with it, so James popped a piece in my mouth to demonstrate that it is food.  Right away, he took a piece and popped it in my mouth.  Then he decided feeding me was fun and he meticulously broke off teeny tiny crumbs of popcorn and continued the game.  When his sippy cup of rice cereal came out, though, that was the end of that.  He grabbed his cup and sucked it down in record time.  He saved a little at the end though, and offered it to me.

When we left that evening, we couldn't stop smiling.  We couldn't have imagined a smoother introduction to our son or a child more perfectly suited for us.  Kaleb is laid back, trusting, and kind and best of all, he loves his food.  He is, indeed, a Meyer.

That evening we ate dinner at the hotel restaurant and once again, our feelings about the virtuous people of Ethiopia were confirmed.  The owner of the restaurant helped us pick some local dishes and took great care in making sure we enjoyed our meal. 

The following morning, we visited with Kaleb again.  We prepared ourselves for a meltdown.  Maybe yesterday was a fluke.  He could very well be in a totally different mood today.  But he was the same mellow little guy we remembered.  He was so mellow, in fact, that he fell asleep on me.  Again, I could have sat like that for hours.  But we had to leave and say our goodbyes.  It was hard to leave, but seeing the wonderful care and love our son was receiving made the departure a little more bearable.

 On Friday, March 29th, we appeared at the court in Addis Ababa where we were escorted into a small room where a judge would make the final ruling on our adoption.  She asked a few questions about our motivation to adopt, our family life, and our plans for maintaining the Ethiopian culture in our son's future.  I guess we answered favorably, because after explaining that the court's decision is irrevocable and confirming that we did, indeed, want to adopt this child (um, yes!!!!), she declared, "Congratulations.  Agegnew (his given name) is all yours."  I cried tears of joy.  We officially have a son.

So This Is Really Happening

Wow.  Time sure does fly.  We leave for Ethiopia this Thursday, March 14th.  For the last week and a half, we have been darting around like crazy people trying to organize everything for work, kids, packing, and our house renovations.  We have about fifteen lists floating around the kitchen counter.  I think I might even have a list of lists.  Just kidding.

One of the major items we have been attempting to check off our "Travel Plans List" is to piece together our itinerary.  We decided to take additional time to travel for this trip - it is quiet at the inn and grandparents have stepped up to the plate to care for the girls, so we are taking advantage and exploring our son's country.  On Thursday, we fly from Boston to D.C. where we will spend the night at an airport hotel.  Friday morning, we fly direct from D.C. to Addis and will arrive there early Saturday morning (a thirteen hour flight).  We'll spend the day in a state of total jet-lag and culture shock and on Sunday afternoon fly to the remote Omo Valley in the southern region of the country.  Originally, we had planned to travel the northern historic route - an itinerary many people opt for when exploring Ethiopia.  But after researching some alternatives, we discovered the Omo Valley where there is tons of wildlife and African tribes still remain.  In ten years, the area will likely become more modernized and tribe life will gradually phase out.  There is no place like this in Africa and it is the epitome of Ethiopia.  It will likely be rugged travel and running water may be a novelty, but this, for us, will be the trip of a lifetime.  We couldn't pass up the opportunity. 

After our adventures with tribes, we return to Addis on March 24th and then head down to the care center where Kaleb is on the 25th.  We will finally meet our little guy and spend the day with him.  We will also get to meet with a pediatrician and ask any questions about health, etc.  On the 26th, we return, once again, to Addis where we will meet with a lawyer who will walk us through the court procedure.  There is a shopping excursion, I believe to the famous Mercado Market on the 27th, and on the 28th, we have a free day - not sure, yet how we will spend it.  The 29th is our big day - court - when, if all goes smoothly, Kaleb will become legally ours.

We chose to stay through the weekend just in case there are any glitches with court and we need to reappear on the Monday.  So on Saturday morning, we will fly up to Lalibella, the highlight of the north historic route and spend two days exploring the region and checking out the rock churches before flying out of Addis on Monday night and returning to Boston on April 2nd. 

I'm kind of exhausted just writing this!  So between now and Thursday, we will be tying up lose ends and continuing to check things off those lists.  It has been challenging trying to pack since we are not living at our house, so some of the items on those many lists are things like "Pick up bug spray from "real" house" and "Grab black capris from attic."  I'm not exactly sure where anything actually is - we packed up our kitchen last week and the food from our pantry is now living in our bath tub while our pots and pans are in the garage.  Our bedroom floor is littered with small appliances like our toaster oven and coffee maker, so wading through the mess to get to my dresser to "grab green tee shirt" is tricky.  But this is all good stuff and we are having fun with our lists and plans.  Soon enough, those lists will turn into reality - can't wait!

We're Going to Ethiopia!!!

Finally, finally we have been issued a court date.  Almost four months to the day from when we got our referral, we learned that the MOWYCA letter required to receive a court date was received for our case and we were scheduled for court on March 29^th. 

We actually found out in kind of a roundabout way.  James and I were on our way home from an overnight in Boston.  The day before, we had been invited to attend a AAA Four Diamond Award luncheon as the inn was receiving its 27^th consecutive four diamond status (yeah us!).  James surprised me by having his parents watch the girls while we got to spend an adult evening partying like rock stars in Boston.  Since it was a Tuesday (historically, Tuesdays have been the days on which court dates are assigned), I had all my toes and fingers crossed that we would get our much anticipated call or email right in the middle of the luncheon and would then spend the remainder of the day celebrating.  I’m not sure why I conjure up fantasies like these as inevitably, I am disappointed.  Still, the lack of news didn’t damper our time in Boston.  We even ate at a great Ethiopian restaurant for dinner that evening. 

On our way back to the Cape, I got a message from another adoptive mother who is also working with our agency and is at about the same point as us in the process.  She had just spoken to the social worker at the agency and learned that a court date had been issued.  Since our two families were at the top of the list waiting for dates, she assumed that the family was ours.  But our inboxes sat empty and our phones didn’t ring no matter how much I attempted to will it to life.  Since I was driving, I pleaded with James to send an email to the agency to at least find out if our MOWYCA letter had been received.  The good news was that a court date had been assigned.  This meant the courts had reopened and things were moving.  The bad news was that we were still in the dark about our case.

About an hour later, we pulled into the driveway and were unloading the car.  James’ inbox chime sounded, and I noticed him checking the message.  “Guess what?” he said.  “That court date was ours!!!”  My heart skipped a beat and I did a little happy dance.  “We’re going to Ethiopia!!”  I screamed at the top of my lungs.

But for every step forward, there seems to be a caveat.  The email announcing our court date also instructed not book our flights just yet as they have to check something about our travel dates with the Ethiopian staff.  So, nearly 48 hours later, we are eagerly awaiting the go ahead to book and as each hour passes, we get more and more nervous that there is something wrong.

If all goes smoothly, though, our court date is scheduled for March 29^th.  Since we plan to travel throughout Ethiopia during this first trip, we hope to fly out on the 14^th and include an 8-9 day itinerary to sightsee in the Northern part of the country before returning to Addis to meet our son and proceed with the court hearing.

And so, once again, we wait for an email or phone call officially telling us we are going to meet…..holy cow!  My inbox chime just sounded.  Instinctively, I grabbed my phone and there it was.  An email forwarded to me by James from our agency.  We are cleared to book our flights.  Time to get packing!!  We're finally going to meet Kaleb.

Debbie Downer

It is probably not a great idea to write a blog post when I am in such a sour mood, but I thought if I get some of this negative energy out of my head and out into cyberspace, perhaps my spirits will be lifted. I do apologize for the "Debbie Downer" nature of this post, though.
 
February 8th, our last assigned deadline for our very important recommendation letter from the Women's Ministry in Ethiopia, has come and gone and we just found out the letter was not received. My reaction? I think I slammed a few things around and jumped down James' throat unnecessarily over something completely unrelated. Then I decided to feel very sorry for myself and drown my sorrows in retail therapy. But I wasn't in much of a shopping mood so I abandoned my plan and planted myself on my couch which pretty much brings you up to speed.
 
Like me, you are probably wondering if a new deadline for this letter will be issued. Or, perhaps the letter could materialize any day as the Ministry is currently working through a backlog of cases. Or, maybe nothing at all will happen until the courts reopen at the end of the month and all the days of sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for some shred of news will be in vain. I have no answers to these questions, nor does our agency.
 
When Paige asked me last night when her baby brother was coming, I just about lost it. Instead I explained that we don't know yet, but he will come and in the meantime, we can dream about what it will be like to have a baby brother. Abigail was listening intently and out of the blue she chimed in. "He's always in our hearts," she said. I'm not sure where she picked this phrase up or how a four year old managed to utter these words at exactly the right moment.
 
I remember her words now as I try to make peace with the unknown timeframe ahead of us.  Yes, our son is always in our hearts.  That’s probably why the ambiguity of what is to come makes my heart so heavy.  And so, with heavy hearts, we continue to wait…

 

Holding My Breath

Over the course of the last two and a half years, I have learned not to hold my breath when it comes to anticipating milestones for eventually getting our child. From the moment we submitted application, we hit obstacle after obstacle.  I typically tend to see the glass half full so despite the seemingly endless series of setbacks, I constantly expected things to get better.  But while the adoption process hasn’t soured me and turned my optimism to pessimism, it has forced me to become a realist. 
 
In reality, I don’t think we will be traveling until March.  But in the back of my mind, the positive-thinking Jill still holds hope for a February travel date.  As indicated in my previous post, one of the most recent delays is due to our agency’s license expiring and a backlog of agencies waiting for the same thing.  Without a license, the Ministry of Women in Ethiopia will not issue letters of recommendation for adoptive families and without that letter, no court date will be issued.  And so, on January 25^th our letter was due in court, but did not materialize.  Our case was then issued a new deadline of February 8^th – this Friday for the letter to arrive.  There have been murmurings that the Ministry was to start issuing letters again this week.  Ours would be the first of our agency’s cases (as far as I know) for which the letter is due. 
 
Potentially, then, on Friday, if our letter is received, we could be issued a court date shortly thereafter.  The other caveat, however, is that supposedly Ethiopian courts are closed until February 22^nd.  Yet court dates are still being issued and I have heard that they aren’t exactly closed, but are catching up on a build up of cases.  Are we one of those cases?  I’m not sure.  Optimistically, the letter could be received Friday, a court date could be issued shortly thereafter, and we could be traveling in two weeks.  That is the best case, and highly unlikely scenario. 
 
Worst case scenario is that our letter is not received, we are issued a new deadline date two weeks down the road, we receive a court date soon after that, and travel mid-March.  Well, I suppose that is not worst case scenario, but I can’t emotionally afford to think of every potential thing that could go wrong!
 
Clearly, we have no answers.  And with no answers and vague indications of what actually is transpiring across the world where our son is waiting for us, we cling to hypotheses.  We find ourselves trying to calculate and make sense of something that is futile.  “Well, IF, our letter is received Friday, and they immediately issue a court date and we get a court date even during this supposed closure, we could spend Valentine’s Day in Ethiopia!”  Right.  Even optimistic Jill realizes the impossibility of that one.  Still, over a glass or two of wine at night, we fantasize about the day, hopefully sooner than later, when the voice on the other end of the phone will say, “book your tickets.  You’re going to see your son.”

 

The Roller Coaster Ride

The end of January is approaching and still, no court date.  Our court review date was yesterday, January 25^th and typically a travel date is issued within a week or so of that milestone.  For us, though, once again, things are delayed.  Two issues are standing in our way of travel: first, our agency is in the process of renewing their agency license to place children in Ethiopia.  The license expired in December and there was a backlog of agencies in line to renew.  While there is a two month grace period, they have no way of knowing when their license will be reissued.  Without a license, the Ministry of Women’s Affairs in Ethiopia will not write a letter of recommendation for us to move forward with our adoption case and without that letter, court dates will not be issued.  According to our agency, an inspection has been done and families who had previously adopted through them were interviewed, so it seems all procedures have been completed in order to renew the license – it’s just a matter of actually doing so.  And while this could conceivably happen any day, the other factor standing in our way of receiving a court date is that the Ethiopian courts have just announced they will be closing from February 5-22 to catch up on cases in progress so no new dates will be issued during that time.

And so, once again, we wait with no clear answers and no ability to estimate timing.  Over the course of the last two and a half years, we have done our best to understand that we are dealing with a third world country and this process is bound to hit walls and take unexpected detours.  But our frustration is mounting and there is nothing we can do about the circumstances.  So after stewing about the elongated timeline and pining for the day when we will finally meet our son, we turn control of the situation to a higher power and have faith that there is a reason for the painstaking amount of time this whole process is taking.

I do know that one day, in the not-to-distant future, we will have Kaleb home with us and all the heartache we currently feel will be a vague memory I can only compare to giving birth.  It is absolutely torturous at the time – an event one would never conceive of reliving.  And then the baby is born and the pain is forgotten and many of us go back for more.  

A friend of mine who I have never met, but commiserate with via email regularly about our Ethiopian adoption processes, painted the perfect analogy of all the waiting and unknowns.  Remember when you were a kid and went to an amusement park and all the popular rides had long, long lines of people winding around roped off aisles anxiously awaiting the adrenaline rush that was just minutes ahead?  You would think you were just about at the end of the line and then, unfailingly, you’d enter a room of a dozen more roped off aisles and there would be another lengthy wait ahead.  Then, the ride would break down and there would be a delay while the engineer team had to come repair it.  But finally, you’d get on the ride and speed along the tracks and in and out of loops, your hands in the air, fearless, despite the risky venture on which you have embarked.  And then, when the ride comes to a halt and the next rider takes your seat and asks, “was it worth it?” you nod vigorously and assure him, “absolutely.  I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

We're Getting There....

It has been awhile since I've posted, but a few important steps have happened in order for us to travel.  On December 18th, we were submitted to court.  This simply means that all our documents have been received by the Ethiopian court and the authorities over there are now working toward getting all the necessary elements in order before we appear in court to make Kaleb's adoption official.  Then, last Friday, January 4th, we received word that our court review date is January 25th.  So, by this date, a specific letter from the Ministry of Women in Ethiopia must be received and the case will be reviewed.  If all goes smoothly, we will be issued a court date shortly thereafter.  This is a somewhat new process and we are one of the first families traveling for court under this procedure.  Previously, there was not a pre-court review date so when families traveled to court, there were occasions when that important letter was not received and the family would have to either wait in Ethiopia or return to the States without having passed court.  The review date ensures that our court appearance will likely go according to plan, but it seems to delay the time from referral to court date slightly.  It also seems, according to a few blogs I've been stalking written by adoptive families who have gone through the new process, that the time from court assignment date to actual travel may be quite short - as little as a week.  So, it is possible that at the end of January we will be assigned a court date and be due in court in early February.  At this point, our estimated date of travel for court is sometime in the first two weeks of February.  Which means that within four weeks, we will likely be setting foot in our son's country.  Crazy!

Despite the fact that the inn is fairly quiet this time of year, we've been running around with our heads cut off trying to think of everything we can to tie up prior to travel.  We have to consider staffing, childcare (there is a good chance we will be gone during winter break when there is no school or day care for the girls), and packing (the list of things to pack is daunting...especially when, if you forget something, it is not a matter of simply running to CVS for toothpaste).  We also just found out that one of our interns has decided to return to the UK since one of her friends died and she needs to be with family and friends right now.  We understand and support her decision and have even found a couple students currently in the U.K. who might be available to fill in for her last half of the placement.  There is a lot of paperwork to be done for that in addition to the usual paperwork for filing for our new interns to start in June and our Jamaican staff returning for the summer.  A lot to tie up prior to travel.  So lists are being made, all our close friends and family are on alert, and we are getting super excited to travel.  Oh, and I've had to go shopping for some more conservative attire - long skirts, scarves, elbow length baggier tops, and close toed shoes will be in my suitcase.  And I may even leave my hair straightener at home :)

It still hasn't quite sunk in that this trip will culminate in meeting our son.  James made the perfect analogy - this is like planning a wedding and then having the honeymoon.  You plan and plan and plan for the wedding and that is the focus of what you do for months.  Then, after the wedding, you get to go on an amazing honeymoon which almost took a back seat because of all the wedding planning.  There was no time to get excited about the honeymoon, but that was the best part.  For us, there is so much organizing to do prior to travel - plus, we are planning on extending our trip to explore the North region of Ethiopia while we are there, so we are in contact with a driver over there to help plan that itinerary.  With all the check lists and organizing going through our heads, it hasn't quite registered that our son will be the honeymoon at the end of all this orchestration.  And yet, as unreal as it seems right now, I know that a year from now, when he is home and it is hard to imagine life without him, all this work will be worth it.  And to be honest, I loved planning our wedding - one of the happiest days of my life.  It is work and a lot of unknown timeframes, but I am loving this time - there is a lot of adrenaline in us when it comes to love.

The Greatest Announcement

Announcing the news of our referral has been fun. We've been on the phone telling the story over and over, yet never tiring of the events that unfolded on Halloween that have us over the moon with excitement for our son's arrival. But announcing the new addition to Abigail and Paige was unexpectedly, one of those family moments you never can forget.
 
We saved the news of a new baby brother for a few days. Between Halloween and school, the time never seemed right to sit them down and spring a new sibling on them. Then, on Friday evening, two days after we had found out, they got their hands on his picture. "Awwww...cute baby," said Paige (they're both obsessed with babies). We looked at each other and silently agreed with a few facial expressions that this would be a good time.
 

Just needs a prince to dance with!

"That little baby is going to be your new brother," James began. I was prepared for one of the two following reactions: 1. "We don't want a brother. We don't like boys!" or 2. "Mama, can I have some M&M's for dinner?" But rather than disinterest or despair, the announcement was met with delight.  Their eyes lit up and we could see the wheels turning in their heads so we braced ourselves for the countless questions that were sure to ensue.  Again, our expectations were off the mark.  We had anticipated queries about why this baby wasn't growing in mommy's tummy or why his skin is a different color.  But no. 
 
Their primary concern was what he was going to wear.  "We have to buy some boy clothes," Abigail declared immediately, "and some trucks and trains for him to play with."  Then they wondered where he would sleep and when we told them Nana's room (which is currently our guest room most often occupied by Nana), they decided we had to paint it blue and put lots of boys stuff in there.  Then there was worry about Nana's reaction to the boy stuff so we had to call Nana who assured the girls that it would be just fine to redecorate her room and that she actually likes boy stuff and girl stuff.  Who knew? 
 

Their new brother will surely get dressed as a ballerina

Once their questions were answered and their concerns put to rest, the excitement set in and they started acting like two little mothers.  They discussed books they would read to him and songs they would teach him.  Abigail thought Jeffrey would be a good name while Paige leaned toward Lace.  (Side note: neither name will be used.) 
 
They still haven't questioned why their brother isn't coming to us the traditional route.  And when those questions do come up, we're ready.  Until then, we're enjoying listening to the ladies make plans for their new sibling.  They have decided to put him to use as Prince Eric for their Little Mermaid performances and they've added Thomas the Tank stickers to my shopping list so he can do crafts with them.  "He doesn't like princesses Mama," they explained to me, "he's a boy!"  Yes, my dears, but I'm pretty sure he will love the two of you.

 

It's a Boy!

In a million years, I did not expect the call to come when it did.  I had spoken to Jenn, the Ethiopia adoption coordinator for Holt just days ago and she did not give me much hope that the referral would come this week.  I was thinking by mid November if we were lucky.

So when James' phone rang through on the blue tooth in our mini van at 4:35 on the way to pick up the girls from day care, and the 541 Oregon area code lit up on the dashboard, we both did a double take.  This couldn't possibly be it, could it?  So many times, the phone rang and my heart started racing only to hear the voice of a doctor's office confirming an appointment or something equally as mundane.  But when James (the voice of reason in our relationship) said to me, "Are you ready?" I knew this was it.  I should also point out that rarely do we ever go pick up the girls together.  One of us is always tying up loose ends at work or off to an exercise class, but this time, it was October 31st - Halloween - so the plan was to pick up the kids and head off to Grandma and Grandpa's, our first trick or treat stop.  The timing, then, with the two of us in the car, was perfect.

James was driving, so I struggled with his phone (which I've always hated) and couldn't seem to sync the blue tooth properly.  There were a few moments (some of the longest moments of my life!) trying to get the connection working so we could both hear properly.  Finally, the two of us and Jenn were having a conversation.  She started off by asking about how we fared in the recent hurricane (Sandy) that hit the Northeast.  I'm not at all sure what I said, but I know I was thinking, "come ooooon, cut to the chase!!!"  It wasn't long before she did.  "I've got good news for you," she began, at which point I started bawling.  "We have a little boy for you.  He is fifteen months and in good health."  Again, I have no idea what I said, if anything, but she went on to tell me what she knew about the circumstances under which he was placed for adoption, the region he is from, his name, etc. The conversation wasn't long - maybe five minutes.  My head was spinning too much to ask any questions so she said she would forward on his picture, medical reports, etc. for us to look over and we could call with questions if we had any. 

After hanging up, we had to quickly pull ourselves together.  It wasn't the kind of news you just start blabbing to the first person you see on the street.  We hadn't looked over medical reports, told family, or even decided how, exactly to tell our own children.  So, James put a sheet over his head (he was a ghost for Halloween), and we walked into daycare as calmly and normally as humanly possible (aside from the ghost costume, obviously). 

Before stopping at Grandma and Grandpa's, we swung by the package store for a bottle of bubbly which I stuffed in my giant purse.  Grandpa wasn't home, so we couldn't make our announcement right away.  Instead, the girls opened their Halloween loot and hemmed and hawed over which piece of candy they would indulge in first.  We stood around nervously chit chatting until finally, grandpa came home.  Then, I told them that the girls had gotten to try on their Nutcracker costumes at ballet that day and I have the cutest pictures.  I handed them my phone to see the pictures but it was actually a picture of their new grandson on the screen.  Once the realization hit, there were tears, hugs, and champagne - a wonderful way to kick off Halloween.

On the drive back to our neighborhood, I called my mom and told her the girls wanted to say Happy Halloween.  She was on her way out to dinner, so I told her I didn't want to keep her but I'd text her a picture of the girls in their costumes.  I hung up and texted our little guy's picture and exactly 30 seconds later, the phone rang and my eardrums nearly exploded from all the screaming.

After more trick or treating, we returned home and let the girls start counting their treats while we opened all the reports and looked at pictures over and over.  I texted my dad and asked how you pronounce XXXX?  He loves pronunciations of ethnic names, and I knew when he saw the text, he'd get the picture.  Once again, the phone rang within 30 seconds and I related the story once again.

Finally, after the kids were in bed, I called my sister - a special phone call to me since she is adopted from Hong Kong.  Before I called I texted the picture and said "Happy Halloween Auntie Emma!"  James did the same with his sister which only leaves my brothers to tell.  Since they are in Australia and New Zealand, the time difference wasn't right, but I will tell them soon.

James wasted no time getting in touch with a doctor (Lisa Albers Prock) who specializes in International Adoption from Children's Hospital in Boston.  She was very prompt in returning the email and we spoke with her yesterday morning about the medical report.  She was very thorough (as thorough as one can be when analyzing data from a third world country), but ultimately, aside from being a bit on the short side which is normal for children in care centers in Ethiopia, expressed no major concerns.  We hung up and almost immediately picked up the phone to officially accept the referral for our son.

Waiting and Cleaning

Okay, I know I said I was taking a step back from the whole waiting game and would leave the time table to a higher power to decide when the time is right to finally get our referral.  Over the past few weeks, I have jumped about a mile every time the phone rings and have scoured the Holt Facebook and Yahoo Group pages looking for more news and updates from other prospective adoptive parents.  I have woken up each morning thinking 'today must be the day.'  If I wear my pearl "mom" necklace or my Ethiopia Mom T-shirt, surely the phone will ring.  Any future momentous occasion is a deadline in my mind.  Of course I'll have a referral by the time I ride the Last Gasp.  I'll ride those sixty plus miles with his or her little face at the forefront of my mind, driving me to push through to the finish line.  Then, by October 1st for sure.  The start of a new month, the start of a new phase of this adoption process.  And now, by Paige's birthday (which is tomorrow).  We couldn't possibly wait any longer than Paige's birthday.  But there's a good chance we will.

I have done nothing in the way of taking a step back.  I have used every last fiber of emotional energy and devoted it to attempting to control fate - or at least gather as much information as humanly possible to give me some kind of insight as to when this will finally come to fruition.  Who was I kidding?  Type A personality, master multi-tasker, frequent insomniac, and the most impatient person in the world...take a step back?  Sorry, not possible.

The thing is, there is no control in International adoption.  There is no timeline, no definites, no "normals."  You just kind of have to go with the flow - something that doesn't jive very well with my personality.  But I have to choice, so I stay busy.  As the inn slows down toward the end of the season and I have more time to kill, I have filled my time by cleaning.  First it was my closet - out with the summer attire and in with the winter clothes.  I organized all my shoes (a huge feat for those of you not familiar with my extensive shoe collection).  Then came our bookshelf which, up until two days ago, was overflowing with books.  Abigail and Paige "helped" me divide them into piles - "keep," "donate," "recycle."  Yesterday, I tackled the craft center - a five shelf unit bursting with pipe cleaners, coloring books, Play Dough, stickers, yarn, and oddly, sunscreen (the shelves are near the entrance to our house which I guess explains that).  Again, piles were made.  Bins were procured.  Old coloring books were tossed.  Labels were made.

So I have been cleaning.  And obsessing.  And imagining the day when the phone rings and we can finally announce our news - to each other (we're not sure whose cell phone Holt will be calling), to our families, and to the other adoptive families stalking the Yahoo boards waiting for posts that scream REFERRAL!!!!  Until then, our house will continue to get reorganized and scrubbed from top to bottom.  Happy waiting...

Keeping the Faith

I have never been a very religious person.  My mom is Jewish and my dad is Episcopalian and while my siblings and I were raised with very biblical “guidelines,” like “Do unto others as you would have them do to you,” we rarely set foot in a Church or Temple or said prayers before dinner.  We celebrated holidays representing both religions and had a general understanding of the spiritual explanation behind them, but when faced with a dilemma or life changing choice, my natural inclination was not to pray to a higher power, but to reason things out or go with my gut.  Until recently, this worked for me.  I can honestly say, I have lived with no regrets and my gut has guided me down a path on which I am proud to be walking.  But sometimes, life gets too big to simply seek internal guidance.  And when this happened to me, it became clear why so many people I know are devout and have unrelenting faith that there is a higher power guiding us through life’s journey.

The miracle of producing offspring in and of itself initiated the beginnings of this new spiritual piece of me.  I mean, how can you not marvel at this miniature version of “us” and wonder how on earth the perfection of it all is possible?  But it wasn’t until we began the very different course to have a third child that spirituality became more of a necessity than a vague question mark for me. 

My pregnancies, even with a few hiccups and complications, were somewhat predictable.  I had a little daily calendar I kept at my bedside and could read all about the little life inside me – each night I’d tear off a page and announce to James, “Guess what?  Baby got earlobes today!”  But the avenue we chose to build our family this time, through international adoption, is far more unpredictable.  When we started the process, we were under the impression we would have our child within 12-18 months.  Now, over two years later, we still don’t even have a referral for a child, much less a sense of when we will travel or how much longer it will be before we enlarge our family.  We are close to a referral, of this I am fairly certain.  But it could be within hours that we get that phone call or maybe even a couple more months.  For the last two weeks, I have woken up each morning certain that today will be the day.  I have donned my “Ethiopia Mama” tee shirt thinking how perfect it would be if the call came and I was wearing it.  I have watched for signs – surely hearing the song “Africa” on the radio means the phone call will come any moment.  But the call has not come and I have successfully driven myself and probably my husband, though he is too polite to admit it, crazy. 

 
And so I have decided to let it go.  And this is where the religious piece comes in.  If I let it go, I have to leave it to someone to take care of.  There is a higher power that has orchestrated this process so far.   Though not the time frame we expected, in hindsight, I can see that the delay was for the best.  Had things happened according to plan (my plan), I think I would have missed out on our youngest daughter’s development.  She would easily have become lost in the shuffle and the chaos that is sure to surround bringing in another child from another country and all that comes with that.  She needed our attention and to be the baby for awhile.  I am so glad this was not taken away from her.  I also needed time.  There was a lot I had to learn about being a mother – not so much the occupation of being a mom, but who I am as a mom.  I needed to learn to put myself second, but not all the time.  I needed to find balance and discover an ability to let things go.  Things don’t always happen as we plan, particularly in parenthood.  Houses don’t always get cleaned promptly and temper tantrums erupt at the worst possible moments.  Kids don’t react as we would have expected and there are tears and meltdowns and sleepless nights and uneaten dinners.  But at the end of the day, it is the laughter and silly songs, and Crayola stick figures and conversations between our daughters that are nothing but love and compassion for each other that we take with us. 

So, just as I have learned to let go of my expectations of daily life as a mother, I will continue to do so as I carry on with building my family.  I will relinquish control over the situation.  Because so far, there seems to be a reason for how this all has transpired.  I look forward to the day I will see further why it has all unfolded just as it has.  Until then, the ball is out of my court.

Hope

It has been a year and eight months since I last posted about our adoption process.  As changes in the adoption process were implemented in Ethiopia, wait times became longer and longer.  Months would go by without any updates, no couples were getting referrals for children, and there was no light at the end of the tunnel.  For awhile, I pushed the whole thing out of my mind.  I am fortunate enough to have two biological daughters, who, as young toddlers, kept me very busy and focused on the chaos of daily life rather than anticipating the future.  But as they got older and I saw them develop and grow together as best friends, I started to wonder how our third child would fit into the dynamics of the family.  I panicked that if too much time transpired, there would be a huge age gap and our new child would be sort of a third wheel.  But our hands were tied - the age spread of our children would only be dictated by how quickly the Ethiopian government implemented the necessary changes to the adoption process and rolled out the new procedure.  As a result of the changes and new protocol, orphanages were closed and our agency was busy seeking relationships with new ones.  All of this takes time and patience.  Since I am one of the most impatient people in the world, I avoided thinking or writing about it.  When people asked how the process was going, I vaguely replied, "slowly" and changed the subject. 

Several months ago, we had to update our home study since it had expired.  When meeting with our social worker, I was forced to think about the future, the unknown length of time ahead, and whether our dream of adopting from Ethiopia would ever come to fruition.  She suggested exploring domestic adoption and I have to admit, we researched, but our hearts weren't in it.  We toyed with another biological child, but there was something urging us to stick it out even though it meant risking perhaps not having a third child if worse came to worse and the Ethiopian program closed and too much time had passed for us to really want to explore another route.

Once again, I pushed adoption thoughts from my mind.  But it was getting harder.  Every time I heard that song "Africa" by ToTo or "A Thousand Years" that's always on the radio, I would tear up.  Even watching my daughters bond and grow together was hard sometimes as my mind wandered and I pictured the third little one learning the ropes from them.  But somehow, even when time seems to stand still, days and weeks and months pass and at the beginning of the summer, I finally saw a glimmer of hope.  Referrals started coming through more regularly and updates held more promising news.  Our agency partnered with new orphanages in new regions and children were slowly but surely being released and matched with families. 

The summer is a busy time of year for an innkeeper on Cape Cod.  The last couple months flew by and before I knew it, we were creeping up that wait list, now seemingly nearing the top five or so.  That glimmer of hope I felt a few months back has become more than a glimmer.  It has morphed into certainty that our child is out there and soon we will hold his or her picture in our hands.  Every day, I feel closer and closer to that moment when the phone will ring and the voice on the other end will tell us the good news.  Until then, waking up each morning with hope, but more importantly faith that the thread linking our family to our new child is gradually becoming connected, keeps me going.