The post with no title because everything I tried seemed trite

This post is because of Andrea. Because she asked me why I haven't been blogging, and I realized that it's because I didn't want to talk about this. But I'm doing it anyway.

When I become aware of my spirit, I know that I'm in trouble.

When my life is moving forward, and my brain is functioning the way it ought, I am very seldom aware of my own human spirit. My life is too full, my experiences too rich for there to be that awareness. But when I start to consciously think of my spirit it is because I am feeling it, constantly, and because it doesn't feel right. It becomes dark and weighty and it no longer properly fits the confines of my body. I start to notice it in the tightness of my shoulders. In the grim set of my mouth. In the nagging headaches and the terrible exhaustion. In the squeeze of my ribcage when I try to get one, just one, deep, filling, cleansing breath into my lungs. And can't.

Then one day I wake up, and I don't want to do anything but cry.

I started on a regimen of antidepressants and therapy after my third miscarriage in 2005. Confronting my infertility was difficult beyond imagining, unless you've been there too. But the drugs helped. The therapist helped. Adopting Grasshopper helped most of all.

In January 2007, I made the decision to give up my dubious chances at a biological child and underwent a hysterectomy. It was a very freeing decision for me, the removal of that uterus I'd come to hate so fiercely, and one that allowed me to feel strong enough to go off the drugs, and (with her blessing) to stop seeing the counselor. I didn't regret it. I still don't.

I made it through my various other hells between then and now, and I handled them on my own. But lately I am discovering that my hands are too full for me to continue doing so.

The adoption of our second child is still moving forward, albeit slowly. There have been more setbacks on that topic than I care to integrate into a post that is ostensibly about my mental health, so I'll save it for another time. Suffice to say that it has been far from easy.

There have been major crises in JR's business, and in his family. One of our very best friends went into an emotional free-fall a few weeks ago and I did all that I could (it wasn't much. Not nearly as much as I'd have liked) to help and support them. The anniversary of B's suicide is approaching. I'm preparing to sue someone for the first time in my life (nothing like a lawsuit to make a girl feel like a real, red-blooded American!) and I have been deeply disappointed by people who had the power to disappoint me. Finally, someone very important to me, and even more important to my husband, has cancer.

This list is by no means comprehensive, nor is it indicative of how many wonderful and positive things I have in my life.

When you are in the grips of depression, the good things are all muffled and muted, like a TV in the apartment next door, by that heavy darkness that seems to spread from the inside out. The things that add weight to the darkness? Those you perceive in stark relief.

I have an appointment on Wednesday to see my doctor about a prescription, and hopefully a referral. I'm exercising again and taking vitamin D. I'm doing one of the things that I hate most in the world and asking for help (if you know me IRL, you know how true this is) before I reach the point of letting the dishes and the cat hair and the laundry pile up and my hair go unwashed for 6 days at a time because, "who cares, I'm worthless?"

This time I recognize the path that I'm on and although this isn't where I want to be, and I wish that I'd caught it sooner, I know that I can to find my way back to the road I actually want to travel.

...and to think that this time last year I was telling myself, "NaBloPoMo in November 2009!"

So. Things have been a mite busy on Mom Street, which I'm sure you knew thanks to my relative silence.

I've been a really crappy blogger. But! (And it's a very big But indeed. No, not butt. Although that's also very big indeed.)

But! I have been a very good mom/friend/MOMS Club officer/adopting mother. Since I last posted a real, honest-to-goodness post with, like, words and stuff, there has been this:



And this:


And also some of these:


Yes, I have hosted or co-hosted two Halloween parties and a baby shower. I am hosting an intimate Thanksgiving dinner next week.

I have chaired meetings, made holiday crafts for the preschool's Secret Santa shop, solicited donations for the preschool's silent auction and met with an adoption attorney.

I have been fingerprinted. Twice. I have been criminal background-checked. I have been to north and south Florida visiting grandparents both well and unwell. I have been vaccinated against H1N1. I have had a sinus infection. I have had a leaky roof repaired. I've called the FBI 7 times. I have drunk lots and lots of coffee.

Most importantly, I completed our homestudy.

The social worker signed off on it today, pending the receipt of our FBI fingerprints. The fingerprints are supposed to be released on Monday or Tuesday, so by Thanksgiving Day I'll be jumping out of my skin every time the phone rings Is it D? Do we have a baby? Be-still my heart!

Feel for my husband, y'all. It ain't gonna be pretty.

But for now, the merry-go-round that has been my life for the past few weeks (or is it months?) has stopped and I hope to have a little time to find a groove here on Mom Street again before I take my seat on the adoption roller coaster.

In the meantime, I changed my ringtone to Tom Petty's "Runnin' Down a Dream." It seemed like the right thing to do.

Is Freud in the house?

So. I haven't blogged about the adoption in a while. Mostly because there wasn't a whole lot of progress to report. (I also forgot basic punctuation and grammar rules, apparently).

JR has been so overwhelmingly busy, and traveling so much for work that it has been virtually impossible to coordinate efforts like going for physicals and drug screens (which we've done), heading out to be fingerprinted and criminal background-checked (which we haven't done), and most importantly to immediate progress, finishing our self-studies. The self-study portion of a homestudy is where you essentially write your autobiography and then answer a bunch of invasive questions about yourself, your relationships and your parenting in the present and future. It is Not Fun. Mine has been done for weeks, but JR has been having a difficult time not only with writing it, but finding the time for it. When something so important hinges on your words, you want to get them just right and that's hard to do late at night after a long day of dealing with vendors and employees and business partners and travel. He finally finished it up over the weekend, and I promptly emailed it to the social worker so that we could arrange our second visit with her.

I'm trying to set up this second visit this week, because next week JR heads out on another trip and my heart just really can't take another multi-week delay. We'll see. I have to keep reminding myself that although she is our only social worker, we are by no means her only clients. Sigh.

I was filling out the requisite financial forms before bed last night (never a good idea) and proceeded to sleep fitfully, even getting up at midnight to see if the social worker had responded to my emails requesting an appointment time this week. She hadn't.

Just before the alarm (also known as my child) started going off this morning, I was trapped in a troubling dream:

JR and I had gotten The Phone Call. A birthmother had chosen us to parent her newborn daughter and we needed to get to her right away. The baby was in an Inuit village on a tiny island off the coast of Alaska and the only way to reach it because of the ice flows was by plane. We were waiting in an airplane terminal (not unlike the one in Wings) and a man who lived on the island and was going to be on our flight walked up and asked why were were traveling there. We told him that we were going to meet our new daughter and then bring her home.

He walked away with tears in his eyes and pulled out his cell phone. He made a call and I heard him say, "It's today. They're taking her today." Somehow I knew that he was talking to the birthfather.

The next thing I knew we were on a tiny plane that could accommodate 6 passengers, and all of the seats were full. No one would meet my eyes. We took off over very rough ice cloaked seas and our tiny aircraft was being buffeted by strong winds and I was trying not to vomit. Fog swirled in and I could no longer see. The turbulence got worse and worse and it felt like we were hurtling towards something horrible when a small voice called, "Daddy? Mommy? Good morning Mommy!"

Yeah. Anyone care to take a guess as to what all of that was about?

Conversaions with Grasshopper: the Deep Thoughts Series

I had one of the most important conversations of my life yesterday.

On a busy thoroughfare. In the rain. At 5:00 pm.

Because why should anything be unnecessarily easy?

Yesterday Grasshopper and I went over to Good Attorney's house for a play date with her son, Little Z. Good Attorney is 7 months pregnant and looks every minute of it.(I hope she doesn't kill me for saying that. I'm hosting her baby shower in a couple of weeks and that could get awkward.)

On the way home from their house, Grasshopper had some questions about the baby in Good Attorney's tummy.

"Why does her got a baby in her tummy? Did her eat it?"

"No! No, honey. Good Attorney did not eat a baby. Babies grow in their mommy's tummy until they..."

"Come out!"

"That's right, sweetheart, until they are born."

"Like I was in your tummy before I was born."

Oh, God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. I did not expect to be doing this in rush hour traffic, on Ponce de Leon Ave. in the rain!

Please don't let me screw this up. Please.

I'm so not ready for a pop quiz.

I haven't had enough rehearsal time.

Please.

"Well. No. You didn't grow in my tummy Grasshopper."

"Yes I did. Before I got born."

"No, honey. You didn't grow in my tummy."

"I grew in your heart!"

Huh? I know that "grew in my heart, not in my tummy" is a cliched adoption saying, but it's not one that I've ever parroted. I appreciate the sentiment behind it, but JR and I always thought that it would be confusing to children, especially young children. So we've never said it.

"Well, I've loved you since even before you were born, so you've been IN my heart for a long time, but you didn't grow there. You grew in another lady's tummy. She is your Birthmother."

"Why her is my Birthmother? Why I not grow in your tummy?"

Because the universe isn't always fair.

Because this is how we were meant to be.

Because I could never have created anyone as perfect as you.

"Because my tummy doesn't work right for growing babies. So your Birthmother grew you for me, and after you were all ready to come out..."

"I got bornded!"

"Yes. You were born and then your daddy and I adopted you and I became your Forever Mommy, and he became your Forever Daddy. We love you so much."

"Little Z has a Birthmother, too?"

Why the extra-credit question son? Did you really have to do this?

My palms are sweating so much I can hardly turn the wheel.

I can't even see your face!

Was this really necessary?

"Yes. Everyone has a Birthmother. For some people, their Birthmother and their Forever Mother are the same person. Like my mother is my Birthmother, because I grew in her tummy, and also she is my Forever Mommy."

"And my Grandmommy!"

"Yes, exactly!"

*silence*

"Why da winsheild wipers go swish, Mommy?"

I don't know baby. I'm just glad that I can tell you, "I don't know." and let the tears roll right on down my face.

I'm so glad that you're watching the wipers and can't see me.

I've practiced for this day since before I ever laid eyes on you.

Since those first nights after we decided to adopt.

Laying there in the darkness I would imagine this conversation with some faceless child (a girl, by the way) and picture us sitting on the beach, or in her bed at night enjoying snuggles before we tucked her in.

She was always at least 4 and a half.

I never once pictured having this conversation with a 3 year old.

But then, I never pictured you.

You are everything that a Forever Mother (or a Birthmother) could hope for.

I love you, baby boy.

I really hope I didn't screw this up.

Uncharacteristically Silent

Those of you who follow me on Twitter probably already heard about this one, but it's been bothering me for a few days, so I thought I'd open it to the group.

At Grasshopper's swim lesson last week, I was chatting with the grandmother of another 3 year old boy in the class, who happens to be a fifth grade teacher. During the course of the conversation, I mentioned that we were working towards another adoption. Our conversation then went something like this:

Her: "Oh! Grasshopper is adopted?"

Me: "Yes."

Her: "How old was he when you got him?"

Me: "20 days old."

Her:"Wow! That's almost like you're his mother!"

Me: "??????????"

I said NOTHING. I just sat there gulping air like a fish while she prattled on about how lucky Grasshopper is to have a terrific and loving family. I was horrified, but had NO IDEA how to respond to such blatant ignorance. She was obviously happy for us, but my GAWD, how can anyone say such a thing?

I have felt guilty for my silence ever since.

This woman teaches children at a really formative point in their lives. I get sick to my stomach thinking about her saying something like that to an adopted child under her tutelage. Someone who, at 11 years old, would take her seriously, and be unable to recognize her ignorance for what it is.

That session of swim lessons is over, and I don't know if I'll ever see this woman again, but it's been weighing on my mind. What should I have said, Dear Internets? What is the correct response to someone who obviously means well, but is so blindsidingly (yes, I think I just invented that word) STUPID?

Sleepless in Atlanta

I am discovering that being back in the adoption ring means that I have much less time for things like, well, this blog. And hair appointments. And trips to the library. And laundry, oh god the laundry. Grasshopper informed me this morning, "Mommy I gonna run out of underwears!" So maybe the laundry ought to be addressed today before the pile swallows one of my cats whole.

I'm waking up in the middle of the night, mid-stream through answering questions about how I have coped with loss in my life (answer: not well.) And why I think that we're prepared to parent a child of African-American ancestry. Apparently even when I'm sleeping, I'm stringing words together, trying to form a chain of sufficient length and strength to reach out and bring my baby home.

There are also things that are utterly unbloggable happening in my life because, you know, the good stuff always has to be balanced out with the bad.

I don't know when I'll be able to resurrect my normal blog schedule, but I sincerely hope that all of you will hang in there with me. I have a feeling that this is going to be a pretty wild ride.

Painful Process/ Priceless Result

I have to start this post by thanking everyone who left your congratulations on my last post. It's a very humbling thing to realize that people across the blogosphere are crying happy tears for you and your family.

A few of you have sent emails asking for more details about how we came to find ourselves in this miraculous position, and how long it is likely to be before we are a family of four. I will do a more thorough FAQ post soon, but today I will introduce you all to the homestudy process, which I expect to take us a couple of months.

This morning two lovely (really, they were great, Grasshopper and I loved them) social workers knocked on our door and were greeted by Grasshopper demanding to know, "Why you no bring my baby today?" (I had told him that they were coming because they were going to help us find his baby. He seems to think that our timeline is a little long.)

They are, I know, going to be reading my blog and I'm having a bit of a hard time with that **waves weakly to A&E**. There is nothing that I have published here (or anywhere else) that I do not stand behind 100%. But this is my sacred space, and I have always written here without a particular audience in mind. It is my diary, and my tagline is quite accurate: this is the intersection of Mommy and me.

It's a strange feeling when your online world and the real world begin to intersect. When people whose job it is to evaluate every part of your life have access to the archives where you have bared your soul. A homestudy is, by it's nature, an incredibly invasive thing. I have done it before, and have no hesitation about doing it again. As I have always maintained Adoption = Painful Process/ Priceless result. The homestudy exists for a very good reason and I remain ELATED to even be in the position of needing one again.

But as my friend Good Attorney said, when someone is picking your life apart and judging you and your family (even when it is with the best interests of an utterly innocent child at heart), when they are the gatekeeper standing between you and what you desperately desire, it's hard not to view them as being on the other team. Not an enemy, not at all, but not necessarily wearing your colors either.

For those of you not familiar with the domestic adoption homestudy requirements, here's most of what we face:

1. Criminal Record check with the FBI and GBI
2. Child Abuse Registry Check
3. Sexual Offender Registry Check
4. Department of Correction Screenings
5. Parolee Database Screenings
6. Documentation from local law enforcement of all 911 calls for all addresses we have lived in GA for the preceding 5 years
7. Verification of medical insurance and copies of medical insurance cards
8. Medical Report Form 36 which requires our doctor to disclose any health problems (from obesity to hepatitis to poor ambulation), and all medications we take, a TB skin test and complete drug screening
9. Child Safety Agreement
10. Financial Statement with copy of mortgage
11. Most current tax return
12. Employer Verification Letter with salary and dates of employment
13. Copy of Drivers License and auto insurance cards for all drivers in the home
14. Birth certificates for all family members
15. Marriage certificate
16. Divorce Decrees from any previous marriages
17. Recent pictures of all family members and a photo of our home
18. Current pet vaccinations
19. References from 1 family member and 2 non-related persons

We must also complete extensive essay questions about our motivation for adopting, and since we are open to the adoption of an African-American child, questions like the following (which, to be fair, comes from the adoption agency not the homestudy agency):

Families vary in economic, regional, racial, cultural and educational backgrounds. Are you aware of any significant differences between African-American and Caucasian lifestyles? Please discuss these in relation to customs, history, struggles and accomplishments between the two groups.

JR and I will be interviewed separately and as a couple. We will be scrutinized from every angle imaginable and when it is all over, when the government is satisfied that we will be good and loving parents, we will find our baby.

I can't wait to begin.

An Adoption Day Miracle

JR and I have wanted, for as long as there has been a JR and I, to parent two children. When we were engaged, we planned to accommodate my desire to experience pregnancy and child birth, and our mutual desire to adopt a child by doing both. One child born of my body, one child born of our hearts.

It became clear after a time spent in unexplained miscarriage hell that both of our children were going to be born of our hearts, and that was more than okay with us. We just wanted to be parents. Within a few short months, with the addition of Grasshopper to our household, we were.

Then, we went through adoption hell trying to add members of Grasshopper's birthfamily to our family.

After those two "failed adoptions" the money to adopt was gone. We have the means to raise another child, but not the means to bring another child home.

And so we planned. And we worked. And we asked for your help.

And then, although I haven't talked about it here, we gave up. I am crying now typing those words, because I'm ashamed to admit it to all of you who have supported us with your money, your time, and your kind words, but the truth is, we gave up.

I checked out books from the library about Parenting Your Only Child, and My One and Only: A Parent's Guide. My eyes welled up every time I tried to sing "You Are my Sunshine" to Grasshopper (a song I have sung to him since the day we met) because I would stumble over, "My only sunshine."

I went so far as to email a very wise and generous blogger named Rita about her decision to parent just one child in an effort to embrace our family of three. The thing that stuck out for me in her incredible response was when she said that she looked around one day and realized that her whole family was already in place. I PRAYED with everything in me to have that sort of an epiphany, but none came.

Instead, an angel came to us via the internet and answered the larger prayer, the prayer that we had stopped praying. She offered to complete our family.

I have no words for how I felt when she contacted me, on Adoption Day, to say that if we would complete our homestudy, and pay for our travel expenses and legal fees, (our hard work and your generosity are allowing us to do that), then she would finance our adoption of an infant here in the US.

Before the week was out, I had spent over an hour on the phone with a very special adoption agency, who said that they understood the place of fear and loss that we were coming from regarding domestic adoption and assured us that they would honor our request to only be "introduced" to birthmothers who had already given birth to, and signed over, their child. Who assured us that our angel was very, very real and that they had the documents and substantiation of funds in place. That we would never receive a bill from them.

I have been trying to write this post ever since. My tears and my awe have kept getting in the way.

But now I've spent the day filling out forms and the evening organizing my laundry room because a social worker will be here, in my house, on Friday to make sure that we have a safe environment and to begin to determine our fitness as parents. It's real, y'all.

It's really, really real.

We still have a lot of ground to cover, before we're able to dive into the deep end of the adoption pool once more, but I'm standing on that first step. My toes are wet, and I know now that angels are real, and mine won't let me drown.

Adoption Day

Dear Grasshopper,

You have just reached the age where super heroes fascinate you. You imagine yourself with magical powers, soaring through the air while your cape streams behind you on your way to vanquish the bad guys.

What you don't realize is that you already are a super hero. You have extraordinary powers, little one.

On this day 3 years ago, you made me a mother. On this day three years ago, you made my husband a father. Three years ago today, you and your magic powers transformed us from a couple burdened by infertility and heartache into a FAMILY.

There is no greater power in the world than the power of love, and you have that power in spades.

We hit the jackpot the day we found each other, Darling Boy. I will be forever grateful to you and your super powers for vanquishing our bad guys and making our dreams come true.

Your Mommy always and forever,

Natasha

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Horror-ified

I have a nasty sinus infection, and my child has the beginnings of bronchitis. So sleep is at a real premium at our house. I thought about saving this post for when I wasn't hopped-up on Sudafed and could actually give reasonable voice to my outrage.

I cannot. I will simply trust that all of you who read my words, all of you who have a favorable perspective on adoption, all of you who at least attempt to fathom what it must feel like to be an older child with no family...will be horrified by what you will see if you go here:

http://orphan-movie.warnerbros.com/

Shame on you, Warner Bros. Shame on you.

I don't feel adequate to the task of taking you to task just now. I want to point out how incredibly painful a film premise like this is for all adoptees and orphans in the world. I want to point out how if there were almost any other minority group being singled out in this manner, this film could never have been produced. I want to spew insightful venom at you and I am just. not. well. enough. I want to rail against this atrocity of a movie that may just prevent some children from FINDING FAMILIES, but I can't.

I'm going to trust all of you to do it for me.

Flashback Friday: The Green-Eyed Monster

I'm participating in Flashback Friday again and I think it's an outstanding concept! Here is how Scary Mommy lays it out:

You know those posts that you wrote way back when only your mother was reading? The ones you wish actual people had read? That’s what Flashback Fridays are for. Don’t have any? How about that old story or photo that you could never find a reason to post? Don’t be shy!

The Green-Eyed Monster [originally published October 29, 2008]


Ladies and gentlemen, I am a jealous woman.

I desire a second child for my family with a ferocity that sometimes scares even me. When I see new babies, or women who are pregnant, or even empty infant car seat boxes by the side of the road, my chest aches, the tears prick behind my eyes & I wonder, "why them, why not me?"

If it is someone that I know well, and like, who has what I want it's somewhat easier. If it's someone that I don't like or respect as much, look out 'cause the green-eyed monster is going to be spewing venom in my head. Things like, "Oh my GAWD she is letting the not-even-14-month-old drink Coke, what kind of mother does that? Why does she get three beautiful children?" or "She watches COPS every night with the two year old for family time, why does she get another kid and not ME?"

And then I like a myself a lot less.

This is not the kind of person that I want to be, or the kind of mother that I want Grasshopper to have. He deserves better. So do I. But I don't know how to stop. I have been here before, in this place where my desire to be a mother has outweighed almost every other thought in my head and I had hoped not to ever be here again, or at least not so soon after adopting Grasshopper. But here I sit.

Infertility is BITCH people, make no mistake about it. She attacks quite a number of women, not just me, but I seem to be the only one I care about (which is another strike against me if you're keeping track). I don't feel like I even have the right to feel this awful when I do, in fact have a child. When I am, in fact a mother already. Somehow though, it isn't enough. I feel myself becoming distant from those people around me whose own procreative joy is becoming a toxic substance and I can hardly breathe when they are near. People who I KNOW have every right to their blessings, perhaps even more right than I have, but I can't be happy for them. Not today anyway.

Perhaps tomorrow will be better. Perhaps tomorrow I will get some good news of my own, like an offer on our house (which will hopefully provide us with the money necessary to adopt again), or a resolution to the on-going battle with the adoption attorney who stole our money and broke our hearts twice-over in our quest for a second child. Perhaps tomorrow the green-eyed monster will take the day off and I'll be happy in my own head again.

I sure hope so. Because Grasshopper deserves better. And so do I.

*******

Note from the author: We decided to take our house off of the market. We love where we live. But we still don't have the necessary funds to pursue our adoption. Click the "Be A Piece of the Puzzle" badge on the sidebar to learn more about us and how you can help. Thanks!

The next move

I am starting to get my house back to normal after the craziness that was our last two weeks. There were things for the yard sale in every room of my house, I kid you not. Poor Grasshopper still has an infant carseat (his, originally) in his bedroom because it hasn't made it's way back to the attic. Why did it leave the attic? Because JR knows that I was never really crazy about it and thought that we might sell it in the yard sale. I vetoed that idea because we'll be adopting an older infant this time around, not a newborn, and so we won't need to use it for very long. I may not love it, but I don't want to replace it for 3 months of use either! So there it sits in Grasshopper's room waiting for one of us to prioritize its return to the attic. Based on how sore I am after my workout today, I don't think it's going anywhere soon. Sorry kid!

JR and I are thrilled that we made as much money as we did on Saturday, but at the same time it's a little frustrating to know that $1500.00 is really a drop in the bucket compared to the total amount needed. My friend Julie at LLOL (Literally Laughing Out Loud) left the following comment on my last post, and it occurred to me that other readers might be wondering the same things.

Oh, Natasha - that's WONDERFUL. I feel like such a heel - I am behind in blogs and didn't know you were having the sale. I'm so happy for you - both that you're raising the money and that you're faith in your fellow human beings has been restored. Do you have other fundraising ideas? How can we help? How much have you raised altogether and how much do you need to raise?

So in answer to your questions Julie (and fellow faithful visitors to Mom Street) we have saved/raised a total of just over $7,000 to date. We need $20,000.

I am choosing to look at this as "Hey, we're over a third of the way there!" instead of, "Good grief, we still need $13,000 and I don't know where it's going to come from" because that way lies MADNESS.

We have cut a lot of "extras" from our lives (as have most Americans these days) in order to put more into our dedicated adoption savings account. We are still contributing to JR's 401K, sending Grasshopper to preschool, and putting money in savings for our family. It won't be a problem for us to support our second child once we bring her (I'm going to go ahead and admit that I really want a girl this time) home, but coming up with 20K in cash isn't easy for most families, I imagine. The US government provides a very generous tax credit of around $12,000 for adoption, but you don't get that until well after your adoption is complete!

That leads me to what you might be able to do to help. The idea of asking for charity is really tough for JR and I to swallow. However, I have come up with what I think is a pretty creative way to allow people to help us financially and be recognized for their contribution. What I need right now is feedback from you guys, my readers and friends, as to whether this is something you would like to see me try or if asking for money on my blog is utterly obnoxious and will cause you to remove Mom Street from your Reader forever. I love this blog. I love the friendships I've made, the outlet it provides and the record of Grasshopper's childhood it's creating. I don't want to alienate anyone.

So, here's the idea: I'm calling it "Be a Piece of the Puzzle." The idea is to find a puzzle for our new child's room that is in some way reflective of The Land Far Away or just the world in general that is around 100 pieces. I will put a Paypal donation button on the blog and encourage people to purchase puzzle pieces for $10 each. Then I will write the name of the contributor on their piece(s) and when the puzzle is complete I'll frame it and hang it in her room. That way she will be able to see the names of all of the people who helped us bring her home.

What do you think?

Once I subtract the money for the puzzle itself and the frame, we'll still make close to $1000.00 towards the adoption and give those people who may want to help an opportunity to do so.

But how will it be received? I don't know. This post is my way of testing the water, so please share your response to the idea with me. And be honest!!!

**Edited to add: Those of you who read here regularly know which country we're adopting from. Due to some privacy concerns, I am no longer referring to that country by name. I am calling it The Land Far Away (TLFA). I would appreciate it if you follow suit in your comments. If you mention the country by name I will not be able to publish your comment, and we all know how hard that is for a blogger! Don't make me do it! Thanks for understanding.**

So much more than money

Our Adoption Fund Raising Yard Sale took place yesterday. It was a lot of work, and a very long day. It was so completely worth it.

We have raised over $1500 and climbing!

I am in shock. I never imagined that we could raise that much money in one Saturday. And we wouldn't have without the generosity of our friends, our family, other bloggers and complete strangers.

In the weeks leading up to our sale Blogging Mama Andrea (who is a terrific blogger and an American living in Germany) asked for my address so that she could send me a brand new Hotsling to include in our sale. Kristen Chase of Motherhood Uncensored made arrangements to drive across the city with 3 kids on a Saturday morning so that she could bring me some fabulous donations and also (very generously) shop our sale. Last week I went to Athens to have lunch with the extraordinary Mir Kamin of Woulda Coulda Shoulda and picked up some great donations that she and her lovely children had put together for me. Then I had a fabulous time meeting Merrily from Life is but a Dream for coffee and telling my adoption story to her so that she could share it with others in our community. Talented and altruistic bloggers, every one of them, and women that I'm now privileged to call my friends.

When I sent an email out on Wednesday evening to almost everyone in my contact list, I asked them to forward it to anyone that they thought might be interested. In response, my friend Maria sent our email to at least 100 people with this introduction:

Folks,

I never forward emails, but this one is for a good cause. After a heartbreaking attempt at an adoption in which the mom changed her mind (you can read about it in their blog: http://exileonmomstreet.blogspot.com/2009/01/interview-meme-from-jim.html), this family is trying to muster enough funds through a Yard Sale to be able to adopt a baby in The Land Far Away. Please see below for the Yard Sale info.
Thanks,
Maria

Other friends passed it on to their friends, posted it on message boards, printed it and tacked it to the bulletin board at their child's preschool. In short, went above and beyond what I had even expected.

The next morning, I got this email:

Natasha,
I got your blog from a friend of a friend. We brought our baby girl back from The Land Far Away last June and it was and has been an unimaginable blessing. I would love to donate some things to your yardsale and if you would like to talk about adoption I am happy to meet with you. We (Atlantan's) have an amazing Land Far Away support group. I have made so mnay friends and feel wonderful that my daughter will grow up knowing many other kids from The Land Far Away. Also The Land Far Away society here in Atlanta is very supportive of these adoptions. Let me know if you would like me to bring some stuff by and good luck and please feel free to contact me if you have any questions.

MK

The following day, I posted an ad about the sale and our cause on Craigslist. I got this response:

I just saw your post because I am looking for a small desk and saw that you are having it for your adoption. My husband and I just completed a domestic infant adoption and our son was born Nov. 26th. I just wanted to send you a quick email to let you know how happy I am for you even though I don't know you and CONGRATS!!!! Adoption is such a long journey and I'm glad yours dream is coming true! I wish you all the best and I hope you raise LOTS of funds for such an EXPENSIVE journey! Take Care!

KW

I began to hope that we would reach my goal (that I hadn't really even had the courage to voice) of over $1000.00 raised. If so many people were reaching out before the sale even began then maybe we weren't naive in thinking that without price tags people would give more to us than some items were worth simply because our cause was just.

We were up well before the sun on Saturday morning and JR, my father, and I set to work setting up for the sale and emptying boxes. My mother and Grasshopper ran amuck, as was appropriate. By 8:30 am we had people waiting, but everyone was very respectful of our "No Early Birds" signs. Our wonderful friends Anne and Lynn arrived just about the time we "opened the doors" and we were off and running! I don't think any of us had a bite to eat or a sip to drink for almost 4 hours! We most certainly didn't sit down.

People really embraced our family and our desire for another child in a way that I hadn't even dared to hope. Sure, there were a few people who gave me a dollar for an item that I'd hoped to get $20 for, but they were FAR outnumbered by the people who gave me $10 for something I thought was worth about $5. Some simply pressed a $50 or a $20 0r even a $5 bill into my hand and wished us good luck on our quest. A couple who moved to Atlanta from The Land Far Away just 3 years ago embraced us with a warmth that still moves me to tears and shared their own infertility heartbreak with us.

At the end of the day, we were all utterly exhausted, completely sore, and incredibly elated at the same time. Even before we counted the money, even though we got rained on at the end, we knew it that had been a great day. When we reached $1500 without having sold a few of our larger and more expensive items (those are going on Craigslist and I may already have buyer for one of them) I started to cry.

Every dollar that goes into our adoption fund brings us one step closer to our baby, and we covered a lot of ground yesterday, but that wasn't what brought on my tears. It was the realization that my faith in the human race had been restored to me in just one day.

After everything that we've been through in the past 2 years (and even the past 2 weeks) my trust in people had been shaken to a degree that I wasn't really aware of. But as I responded to hugs and money from strangers, my heart got fuller and fuller. When we realized just how much we had been given, my heart overflowed. My relief in knowing that I had been right for most of my life and that people are inherently good and kind and decent left me with nothing to do but cry.

We still may not make it all of the way to $20,000, but I've already gotten so much more than money.

Closure

As I alluded to in my last post, JR and I spent a lot of time over the past few days analyzing the situation we unexpectedly found ourselves in. We were confronting old ghosts, and old dreams and it was rough going. He never wavered in his stance that these people were not people that we could trust and that we ought not to have any dealings with them whatsoever.

For me, it was not nearly so cut and dry. Yes, we have suffered greatly at the hands of these women. No, I do not want to do so again. In fact, I'm not sure that I could survive it.

But there is Grasshopper to consider. There is always Grasshopper to consider. He is the greatest joy of my life. He is a marvelous little boy who I hope to guide into becoming a marvelous man. And when he is a man, I will need to tell him everything that I know about his birthfamily, and I will have to look him in the eye and explain our decisions to him. I want to know that we did everything we could. I want to know that we have not let him down. Saying "No" to this sibling without knowing the circumstances was just not something I could do.

So we compromised. I called my friend Good Attorney who helped us out when Evil Attorney unexpectedly faxed bills for many thousands of dollars to JR's office on New Years Eve for an adoption that had "failed" 7 months prior. With a note requesting that we please post-date our check for the previous year.

I told Good Attorney that I couldn't just turn my back on this situation and that I wanted to call Evil Attorney but was scared to do so. She suggested that I allow her to make the phone call for me and I nearly wept with gratitude. If merely seeing the area code on my phone had caused me to shake, cry and nearly vomit, I can only imagine what actually speaking to the woman would have done to me.

So yesterday afternoon Good Attorney finally got through to Evil Attorney. Evil Attorney expressed outrage at "the way JR had spoken to her" on Friday and was looking for an apology. None was forthcoming. (In speaking to my husband he showed me the bloody spot on his tongue where he bit it so hard during their conversation. I believe that he never said anything inappropriate, and even if he did, WTF lady? Did you honestly expect him to be blowing sunshine and rainbows up your...?) She also suggested that I was sneaking behind my husband's back in having Good Attorney contact her.

Good Attorney assured her that JR had full knowledge of this conversation and asked a number of pointed questions and discovered many things about the situation that I find unbloggable because I need to protect the privacy of my child. Suffice to say, it was enough to convince me that the child she is carrying is not meant for our family. It would be impossible for us to proceed with this adoption for myriad reasons, not just because of our painful past.

For me, a weight has been lifted. I am so relieved to know that I can indeed hold my head high when I tell my son why we didn't accept his birthmother's offer of the potential for a biological sibling for him this time. I am hopeful that Allison will indeed follow through and place this child with a loving family. There are so many of them out there, waiting and hoping and praying that a birthmother might choose them. I hope that they will get to experience the wonder and joy that raising Grasshopper is giving us.

Now that we know where she is again, I will resume sending photos and updates of our child to her. Not just because I hope that seeing the life that he has will inspire her to place this child and any subsequent children with loving families, but because it is the right thing to do.

For JR, and for many of my friends, the slate was wiped clean when Allison chose to lie and cheat and steal from us, and we no longer owe her anything. For me, that's not true. I will never stop owing her for giving Grasshopper life and for allowing him to spend that life with us. Almost 3 years ago I made a promise to her that she would always know how he is doing, how he is growing, and how loved he is.

Unlike her, I honor my commitments and I will continue to honor this one.

Out of Nowhere

So. On Friday morning, I posted about how crazed I was feeling in preparation for our Adoption Fundraising Yard Sale. Part of the reason that I'm feeling so stressed about it is that I want it to be perfect. I want to make sure that I do everything right so that we can maximize the profits and thereby get us closer to finding our second child. I don't want to leave a stone unturned and regret it later.

Late on Friday morning, while Grasshopper and I were at the park, my cell phone became possessed. Every time it was opened, it immediately started dialing "4444434444#34433" on and on until you closed it. This happened if I was attempting an outgoing call, or trying to receive an incoming call. I turned it on and off, took the battery out to no avail. Since we don't have a home line, I was essentially cut off from phone conversation once we returned home.

I'm going to interrupt my story now to say that if you haven't read this post, you need to or the rest of my tale won't make an ounce of sense. It's long, I know, but it really is necessary. You only need to read the first question and answer. Oh, and you might want a tissue handy...

Yeah, lots of laughs, right?

Well, on Friday afternoon my possessed cell phone rang. I had just put Grasshopper down for his nap, and I considered not even looking to see who it was since I couldn't answer, but I decided to check since I can always email, IM or Tweet with the right people. The area code for the number dialing in was that of the small Midwestern city that has featured prominently in my life over the past few years.

I stared at that number and I started to shake. Then I started to cry. Then got sick to my stomach.

The scenarios were racing through my head at an alarming speed: Was Grasshopper's birthmother dead? Had one of the girls we had tried to adopt been removed from the mother's care? (it's happened to these "mothers" plenty of times before) Was the attorney calling to hassle us for more money, even though she cashed our check marked "Paid In Full For All Services Rendered" and therefore had no right to more of our money? Was it Vivian calling me directly for some reason?

I didn't know, and I had no immediate way to find out.

After a few minutes I calmed down enough to send this email to JR, "I just missed a call from (small Midwestern city) and I'm shaking and sick."

20 minutes later, he sent this response, "I am ill too. It was Evil Attorney and I spoke with her."

THAT WAS ALL HE SAID. (Remind me to strangle my husband later, okay?)

My response, "And?????"

His reply 15 minutes later, "Allison is pregnant again. They asked us to agree to adopt the baby."

My response, "Please come home. Please. I'm breaking."

17 minutes later, "Getting in the car now. I love you."

He got home, and we spent the next little while just clinging to each other as old wounds covered with layers of scar tissue were torn open again. Metaphorically speaking, we bled. I wept, and JR raged. I wondered about Allison, now pregnant with her 6th child, and how she was going to cope. JR wondered about Evil Attorney and her absolute gall in contacting us again. And both of us, both of us, were in awe of the stupid, stupid, stupid parts of ourselves that wanted to call Evil Attorney back and tell her that we would give them every penny we have if Allison would only give us another child.

We won't do that, of course. JR told Evil Attorney that there was no way that we were going to trust Allison again, and then told her a series of lies about how dire our financial situation is in the hope that if she believed that there was no money to be made here, that she would finally leave our family in peace. Unfortunately, he didn't ask me how I wanted to proceed before doing what he felt he had to do to protect our family.

I wish that I could call Evil Attorney and tell her that it's not as bad as all that, and that we would be trilled to adopt Allison's child given the right set of circumstances: That Allison support herself during this pregnancy like she did during her pregnancy with Grasshopper. That she have the baby, and sign the baby over, before we are expected to travel there. That she expect an extremely minimal monetary hand out from us, because the money just isn't there.

If she truly wants to place this child here with her other child, then it shouldn't be too hard to agree to that. If she just wants someone to pay her bills for the next 6 months or however long she has left in her pregnancy (JR can't remember what Evil Attorney told him regarding a due date) well, then she won't agree.

But JR is dead set against inviting any of these people's drama back into our lives under any circumstances, and I can obviously see his point. I just have a very hard time slamming shut a door like this one.

This Blogger will Self-Destruct in 3... 2 ...

The big Adoption Fundraising Yard Sale upon which I have pinned many of my hopes and dreams...it's in a week. A WEEK people. And I am not ready.

I still have boxes of my own stuff to sort through, appointments to go get other people's stuff, a permit to arrange for from the City, volunteers to line up (where are all of you people who said you would help? Hello? Hello? Is this thing on?), posters to be made (insert expletive here because I am NOT a crafty chick), an advertising email to be created, a donation box to be made, tables to be picked up from a friend, prices to be researched on some of the "larger" items that have been donated already, cash to be pulled from the bank so that I can make change, and probably fifty gazillion other things that I can't think about right now on account of I am FREAKING OUT.

I also have to take Grasshopper to the store to choose a new bicycle because that child is essentially potty trained, and he deserves it. Unfortunately this will mean spending every waking moment at the park until he either tires of the new bike (bwahahaha I am so funny) or exhausts himself and falls asleep on the darn thing.

So I guess my point here, (yes there is one, stop looking at me!) is that I may not be around much this week. Or I may be here daily documenting my self-destruction, you never know. Okay, I guess I didn't really have a point afterall. Nevermind.

Silver Lining

As most of you know, JR and I are on a quest to finance our final adoption attempt. It's a tough process just getting the money together to begin the tough process of adopting, but obviously, it's a situation where the potential for joy far outweighs the struggles to get there.

We have a couple of fund raising ideas working, beyond the standard Don't Buy So Much Crap, and always popular Put More Money in the High-Interest Savings Account (opened specifically for adoption funds) because you're not buying so much crap. I'm selling some of our things on Ebay, and Amazon, and I even have something more creative that I'm gestating.

Our biggest event though, is a yard sale that we've slated for the first Saturday in May. We live on a busy street (city living at it's finest!) and we've had successful yard sales in the past. This time though, we're not just selling our own junk, we're selling junk donated to us by friends and family. It has been a humbling experience to be the recipients of such generosity. To date we've been given expensive baby swings, double jogging strollers, a brand new in the box Graco stroller, a FIREPLACE and mantel (yes, really), DVD towers, a laptop, a scanner, a couple of tables and now....the contents of B's house.

I like to think that it goes without saying that we would much rather have B alive, and here, watching Grasshopper grow up, than to have all of his stuff for our yard sale. But, the fact is that B isn't here, any more, and life moves on whether or not you're ready for it.

So now we're sifting through the accumulated things that 31 years of life, and 7 years of home ownership provide. It is beyond sad, walking into B's house with no dogs barking, no music playing, no laughter. But it's also amazing, knowing that the loss of this person, who we miss so much, is going to bring us one step closer to adding a beautiful child to our family, one who will always know the role that "Uncle B" played in our bringing him or her home.

There's such poetry in life, when you open yourself to it.

The Plan

JR and I have been talking at length about what our plan for this final adoption attempt should be.

We have given up on the domestic adoption system, we've been abused too thoroughly to go that route on what we know is our very last chance to become a family of 4.

So domestic adoption is out.

We don't want to wait the 4-5 years that an adoption from China is currently expected to take.

Korea will not allow us to adopt from their country because JR is 11 years older than me. Yep, even though we are both younger than their age limit, even though we have been married for over 6 years, even though we fit every other criteria they have our age difference prevents us from adopting a Korean child.

India and Thailand will not allow Westerners to adopt infants, only toddlers and older children. We really want an infant.

Russia expects us to make multiple trips to their country in an effort to adopt. Maybe if we didn't already have child, this would be feasible but with Grasshopper in the picture, no way.

Nepal is only just opening to intercountry adoption again and is wicked expensive.

Vietnam is no longer allowing intercountry adoptions.

Same thing in Guatemala.

Kazakhstan wants you to spend 4-6 weeks in country completing the adoption. How do people do that?

I could go on and on about the various programs we've looked into, the agency representatives I've spoken to or emailed, the nations whose systems have either rejected us or whom we've had to reject. But I won't bore you with all of that. Suffice to say that my keyboard and mouse have been very busy over the past week or two and that I cannot imagine how people undertook this kind of endeavor pre-internet. Cannot.imagine.it.

The good news is, we've found a program (that I'll call The Land Far Away) that looks like it will work for us. We've found an agency that we're becoming comfortable with. I've emailed with several families who have either already completed adoptions from this program via this agency or are currently pursuing adoptions from this program via this agency.

The news is good. We can complete an adoption of an infant in approximately one year (although wait times are increasing as I type) and it will cost, all told, about $20,000. Yes, I said that's good news. Shows how warped your mind gets when you get sucked into the adoption world, doesn't it?

So now we just have to save up the money. In an economy that's in the tank. Won't that be fun?

I've been pinching pennies anywhere I can, and putting them into a high-interest savings account. I'm selling out on this here blog, and get a little money whenever someone shops Amazon through one of my links. I'm also selling off large portions of my book collection on Amazon and doing surprisingly well. I am amazed at what people are buying!

Our biggest fundraiser that's in the works is going to be a yard sale that we've decided to hold in May. We live on the corner of a very busy street and have had successful yard sales in the past, and this time I have lots of friends and family promising to donate items for us to sell. We get money for our adoption, they get rid of their clutter, what could be better?

And that's where my brilliant brainstorming ends.

There are grants out there to help people pay for adoption, but you have to be well-into the process before you can apply for them which makes me a little nuts. "Wait, I have to spend lots of money, and commit to spending lots more, before I can find out if you'll help me?" I mean, I can understand not wanting tons of applications from people who aren't really committed to adoption yet, and I certainly understand not actually writing anyone a check until they're into the process, but jeez. Also, most of these grant programs are really fuzzy about what their requirements are and who qualifies so there's no way to even guess if we might get a grand or two that way.

So far we have about 1/3 of the total amount needed. Neither JR nor I are comfortable with actually signing papers and starting the process until we have at least 2/3 or preferably 3/4 of the money in an account and his business feels stable.

So that's the plan, such as it is. As a certified control-freak, this process is never an easy one for me. But I'm doing my best to control those things that I actually can, and sending lots of prayers to Ethiopia the rest of the time. Won't you join me?

When the Universe speaks, you'd better listen

Anyone who reads this little blog regularly knows that JR and I want, more than anything, to add another child to our family. You also know that the only options available for us to do that are adoption and surrogacy.

For JR and me, surrogacy has never held any real appeal. In the naive early days of our relationship, when we discussed our future family, we agreed that adoption was definitely going to be a part of how we grew our family as was pregnancy. I really wanted to experience life growing inside me, breast feeding, and even labor and delivery. When it became clear that that dream was not going to become our reality it was relatively easy for us to turn our attention to adoption.

We honestly never really thought about surrogacy at that time, and I don't know if I would be thinking about it right now, if a friend hadn't brought it up.

"You know," she said as I was bemoaning (again) the loss of the money in our failed adoption attempts, which is keeping us from adopting again, "you still have your ovaries. You and JR were able to conceive repeatedly. I'll bet you could have a successful pregnancy via a surrogate."

She is probably correct about that, I realize. But that doesn't mean that surrogacy is the right choice for our family. First of all, the surrogacy would be just as expensive if not MORE expensive than adopting again. If we had a friend or family member ready, willing, and able to carry a child for us (which we do not) we would still have to pay for my eggs to be harvested, for those eggs to be fertilized with JR's sperm, and then for at least one IVF cycle for the surrogate. If we had to pay a surrogate, well then the costs would go up even more. In theory, this would all be worth it because, in the end, the baby would be pretty much guaranteed to come home with us, and that is worth an awful lot.

But that just isn't enough to make it worth doing. The reason that JR and I embarked on a quest for a viable pregnancy was so that I could experience the miracle of carrying a child and giving birth. Having a child linked to us through DNA was just never a factor for us. It still isn't. We often joke about the fact that we are "genetic cul de sacs" and honestly feel that there is NO WAY we could have produced a child as absolutely perfect for us as Grasshopper is.

So while the idea of a child whom no one else has a claim to is appealing, it just doesn't speak to my heart the way welcoming another child via adoption does. JR and I have spoken at length in the wake of that conversation with my friend, and he feels the same way I do (thank heaven).

I am grateful to my friend for raising the issue of surrogacy, because it caused me to take a step back, and to really think about what it is that I want for my family. And what I want has come shining through to me in bright, bold, neon letters so real that I can hear the buzz, "A Child of my Heart, Not of my Body."

When God, the Universe or just your own conscience tell you something with such force, then in my opinion, you would be a fool not to listen. So we are going to adopt again. Whatever it takes, whatever we have to do to make that dream a reality, we're going to do it. We feel called to walk that path one more time, and I hope that you all will walk it with us. Adoption is a journey, often a long, hard journey filled with paperwork, fingerprints, doctor's visits and social worker calls. It is never glamorous, often tedious, invariably frustrating and in the end, so, so, worth it.

These are uncertain times for so many of us, JR and me included, but we are committed to taking this leap. We are talking to agencies, we are researching programs, and we are scraping together every penny that we have. We will make this happen.

I no longer have any doubts.

Ghosts in the dark

Why do our personal ghosts come out to play when the world is dark?

Last night is the first night in a long time that I wept for my children. My daughters, to be more specific. My son, well he's perfect, he's here and there is no need to weep for him. He brings only joy. And occasional frustration. Afterall, he's mine.

When JR and I were trying to become parents the "old fashioned way" conception was not our problem. Egg met sperm, implanted, and tried to grow. But somehow, it kept getting derailed. Somehow, even after watching a tiny flickering heartbeat on a monitor (again and again), our child would leave my body much, much too soon. And eventually so did my uterus. After all the pain it caused me, I was happy to see it go.

We never really knew why our children couldn't stay and grow in my body, only that one by one those tiny, flickering heartbeats faded away and I would once again find myself in a hospital wishing that morphine could even begin to touch the pain in my heart. There is no medicine in the world that can make you forget that you've lost a child. Even one you never really knew.

In medical terms, I am a "habitual aborter" (lovely term, isn't it?) and even though the statistics say that once fetal heartbeat is established you have close to a 100% chance of giving birth to a baby, well I am a statistical outlier. You know how everyone cheers for the person who beats the odds? Well I'm the person who was beaten by the odds, and no one ever cheers for that.

As it turns out, each of those children we conceived, and loved to the point of pain, were girls. Those heartbeats were housed in bodies just beginning to turn distinctly female. They were our daughters, and I miss them every day.

Oh, I don't dwell on it anymore. Sometimes a few days will pass without a conscious thought of who they might be and what our life might be like had even one of them lived. I'm much too busy living my life with son, my friends, and my family. Usually, I'm very happy.

But last night, as the world got darker, and I listened to the steady drip from the faucet turned on in preparation from the first real winter weather Atlanta has seen in a long time, those ghosts came out to see me. With them were the ghosts of Grasshopper's birthsister and cousin, even though (to my knowledge) both of those girls are alive in the world somewhere, living the life I can only presume they were meant to lead.

I lay in my bed and I wept quietly for all the little girls I hoped to hold in my arms, and the one that I did. I wept for my husband and the possibility that he will never parent a daughter, something that I know he desires very much. I wept for my son who (like me) is an only child and who (unlike me) will have to someday face the fact that his birthmother sent him to us (thank God), but kept his birthsister, even though her circumstances hadn't changed.

These were not the raging, loud, raw and angry tears of fresh grief. Just a quiet release of pain that builds, subtly, until one night the cold, and the dark, and the drip of a faucet become too much to bear.