Update amid confusion

My Little Candy Cane: Early December - 4.5 months

Anxiety Level: slow deep breaths!

Chocolate Consumption: Daily truffle allowance. A friend brought over chocolate chip cookies with her kids. I ate five plus one partially gnawed one left over by one of the kids!

We have received our first official update of the new year. Here, with my running anxiety commentary, is what we know:

• Social Worker report completed...we have social worker report. Whew! This is the piece that has been missing from our file. It did not get done back in October because our Power of Attorney had been misplaced.


• We have PA (Pre Approval from Department of Homeland Security). Double Whew! This has been done since October 29th. When I had a lull in worries, I came back to this. Wondering if the delay had somehow meant that this had to be redone.


• The Dossier is ready to be submitted to PGN as soon as it opens. Great! Wait...what? "as soon as it opens?"


• PGN is closed for 45 days. What!?!?!? I don't know what this means. I hope it means that the PGN which has been closed for about 30 days will open again in 15 days when the Central Authority has registered all cases. But we don't know what this means. My 2am brain worries that we might be in for another 45 day wait. This would mean that we won't get into PGN until March - that's when we initially assumed we'd be bringing him home.


• Our attorney is registering all cases with the Central Authority. This is good. But the turmoil surrounding the CA means that there has been no word that any cases have actually been certified or will be any time soon. The big Catch-22 is that cases not registered by 2/12 will not be grandfathered in. If the CA can't get it's act together by 2/12, none of us will know what is to become of our cases.

And there you have it. This is what we know. Gordon and I are off to a Symphony date tonight. I'm going to try to let the music wash over me and carry my worries away with it. The program is Copland's Applachian Spring, one of my favorites. 2/1: update: I was wrong, it was Tchaikovsky's violin concerto in D maj. The frenetic pace interrupted with occaisonal agnst-filled moments fit my mood perfectly! While relaxing, I'm going to keep reminding myself of two things we do know for certain: 1) Our attorney is reputed to be excellent. 2) The orphanage where Danny lives is probably bar none, one of the finest and most loving places he could be, with the exception of course of our very own home.

Whenever I get too distracted and worried, my Gracie comes up with something to make me laugh. Tonight she did it again. She picked up her little toy ukelele and said, "Mommy, I'm going to sing you a lovely song." Then she launched into a little ditty in her sweet meandering voice. It went something like this: "It's so terrible, about our oranges!" I have no idea what it means, but it was the loveliest song I've heard all day! 2/1 Update: Upon further discussion with Gracie, she feels terrible about her oranges "because I don't want to eat my mango." I'm sure this provides the clarification you were hoping for.

Murphy's Law

Early November, 3.5 months old

Anxiety level: fair to middling

Chocolate Consumption: The chocolate is gone. I may have to resort to spoonfuls of Nestle's Quik

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We have no update. We haven't heard from our agency since the end of the year and the newly formed Central Authority appears to be in turmoil.

This situation is not in my control. This is the first time in my life as a parent when I haven't been able to do something for a child of mine. Through Josh's illness, I could always be there to comfort him and make him laugh. I can pick Gracie up and give her a hug anytime she needs one. Danny is so far away. It seems there is nothing I can do.

So, I've resorted to gaming Murphy's Law.

Now I'm not a superstitious person. I don't believe in magic spells or crystal balls. True, I toss a pinch of salt over my shoulder every once and a while, but only because Rachel Ray does this and it seems to help her with the 30 minute dinner preparation. I know from experience that those fortune cookies never hit the nail on the head. But I have a plan which at the very least will distract me.

You know how it goes: you put off scrubbing the kitchen floor for weeks (well I do anyway...) because it will only get dirty again and no sooner do you step back to admire your work then your toddler discovers a new game called "chew the blueberries and spit them on the floor." That's Murphy's Law. So I'm extending an invitation to Murphy by doing a few things which will have to be undone immediately with the arrival of a new member of the family.

Plan A: Bedroom furniture. Yes it's true: we are adults in our 40's and our mattress has been on the floor for 8 years. Both of our kids slept in our bed from about 9 months to 2 years. And when Josh got sick he came back in with us. We plan on this arrangement for Danny also. So in the interest of safety (and procrastination) our mattress has always been close to the ground. Well Gracie has been in her room for nearly a year and JC Penny was having a sale. So we took the plunge and got bedroom furniture. We feel like grown-ups with this matching furniture! Of course, we'll have to dismantle the whole thing when Danny comes home. And now that we've gone to all this trouble, he must be coming home soon right?

Plan B: Baby clothes. I have to face the painful fact that although little Danny is indeed very little, chances are that when he comes home, he will be too big for the 0 - 6 month clothes I have kept for him. I know that he will be too big for the bouncy seat. But surely, no sooner than I clear out baby clothes, he'll be here and I'll have to go out and buy more stuff, right? Murphy's Law at work again. But now this logic doesn't feel so good.

Plan C: Furniture. No, I can't do this. Not yet. I can't get rid of the exer-saucer. I can't bear to think that it won't be used by all of our children. And it gets harder: With our new bedroom furniture, there's no room for the glider. I couldn't put this into storage. Even though we won't use it until Danny is here, I have to have it close by. It's such a symbol of loving my kids. So many sleepless nights were spent in that chair singing a little one to sleep. I've got to keep this in my sight.

(photo: 2/16/01 Josh, 6 months)

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So, I'm back to square one. This is not in my control. I will worry and fret every day until Danny comes home. I will search blogs and adoption forums looking for clues. Yes, I'll play mind games like trying to out-Murphy Murphy. But in the end it comes down to adding your thoughts and prayers to my own and finding the strength to make it through to the happy day when we bring our little boy home.

One last note: I think I said that fortune cookies miss the mark. Well, I stand corrected - I have on the fridge, Gracie's fortune from our last take-out meal: "You have the ability to be very persuasive." Now that one hit the nail on the head!

Ode to Joy

Gingerbread House: Demolition phase January 2008

Stress Level: Medium

Chocolate Consumption: Although the chocolate is now up so high that I must use the pasta tongs to retrieve it, still 4 truffles, 1/3 cup chocolate pudding

I don't have an update on our adoption status. It appears the government has processes in place to continue with grandfathered adoptions. How all this impacts our case is still an unknown to us.

I am used to being an active advocate for my children. Sitting on the sidelines waiting for word is extremely difficult. Even in our darkest moments with Josh's illness, we managed to find reasons to hope and reasons to celebrate joy on a daily, almost minute-by-minute basis. I need to get that back.

As so often happens, right in my path was a nudge in that direction. I caught a glimpse of the front of the Christmas card from our dear friend Father Michael: "I know well the plans I have in mind for you says the Lord. Plans for your well being. Plans to give you a future full of Hope." Jeremiah 29:11.

Now this is a prayer I can get behind. I know I can ask for hope and I will find it. I know I can ask for Joy and I will feel it. Here's another thing I know: God is not Santa Claus. I know from experience that good material stuff is not given to the good and withheld from the naughty.

During Josh's illness, prayer was often a dilemma. How could we ask God to look at a sea of suffering children on this earth and bypass others to pick our son to heal? This doesn't mean I didn't ask. I prayed, pleaded, bargained, beseeched, I got mad, I got humble, I yelled, I threatened. And what did I get? I got peace. When I sat alone in the consulting room after getting the news that Josh had relapsed and released a tirade to the heavens this is the message I got: "Lay it on Me, I can take it, you can't. Give it up to Me and let it go." I got the certain knowledge that even though I might be far from perfect, no loving God would make a child suffer to punish a parent.

So, I've learned the hard way about what I can pray for with the certainty of getting: strength, love in my life, wisdom, hope and joy.

And, looking all around, I can also see that joy has been given to me before I even had to ask. It's been going on all everywhere while I've been biting my nails and inhaling chocolate. (Well OK - perhaps the chocolate is part of the joy thing.)

So, my plan for the immediate future: soak in some joyful moments. Like...Gracie nibbling at her gingerbread house when she thinks no one is looking...Gracie proudly showing me how she completely colored in gold cray-pas one of the 12X12 floor tiles in our family room...Gracie telling me she loves me "all the way out to our garage and back".

Or how's this for joy: Danny's first smile! (November)

Need more? I got more: memories of Josh hooked up to a million IV's proudly maneuvering his special bike around the hospital floor with me barely keeping up...stumbling across a spontaneous moment on video tape of Josh reaching up to hug me and saying: "I love you mommy!"

So there you have it. I can't guarantee how long it will last, but I know that it will be there when I need it: hope for the future and joy in the moment.

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Another of Father Michael's pearls of wisdom. He told us that the deepest root of every prayer is simply this: "Be with me." And of course, the answer we all seek in many different ways and many different places: "You are not alone."

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We are so fortunate to have caring friends from all walks of life and a beautiful diversity of spiritual practices, all of which add to the fullness of our lives. Thanks to all of you for continuing to be with us on our journey.

Pacing like a caged animal...

The Pumpkin Series: Early October, 2.5 months

Anxiety level: On the high side with patches of calm

Chocolate consumption: one truffle, large chocolate mousse size of a softball: just consumed

A word about the chocolate. This is an ongoing challenge. It could be worse, I could be taking the milk money and gambling it away. But warning bells are ringing. For a special treat I bought Gracie (?) a bag of organic chocolate teddy graham crackers. For days, they sat unopened on a shelf. Then one night I thought I'd just open the bag and have a handful. This led to several handfuls. The next day I found myself facing the bag, unsupervised, at nap time. So...well... just a couple handfuls. The rest would be for Gracie. That afternoon, when I went to get some for Gracie, there were literally 10 little sad chocolate bears left. I had eaten my sweet baby's entire bag of cookies! Well, really - is it so bad? The bag says eight servings, and that's for kids, right? So, technically it's what - four adult servings which I managed to spread out over two days. And anyway, I don't want her to get too hooked on chocolate!

Maybe it's the sugar, or maybe it's the waiting and the unknowns, or maybe it's a combination of both. But either way I'm pacing this house like a caged animal. I find myself distracted to the point of being completely unproductive during the day:

Pace: check voice mail for message from agency; check e-mails for update from agency. Ponder: The good news is that we have every reason to believe that our case is far enough along in the process to be grandfathered in. Yet... I worry that the delays we've experienced may mean that other paperwork has been lost in the shuffle and that we face even more delays.

Pace: run through blogs of other adopting families to see if they've received updates and pictures; call a friend to rehash our situation. Ponder: The good news, the Guatemalan Central Authority has been established and grandfathered cases can now be registered! Yet...I worry, if our attorney registers cases this week, and our case needs a few more things completed before it can be registered, will he forget to register our case?

Pace: check adoption forums for any news; check on Gracie, feel like a neglectful parent. Ponder: literally 24 hours after the Central Authority was formed, it was put on hold pending new appointments by the freshly sworn-in president of Guatemala. I worry...will cases ever begin to move forward again?

Pace: check orphanage website for any new photos. Ponder: oh joy! pictures! Oh dear, is he happy, it looks like he can support his head, did he gain enough weight?

Check on Gracie. She's sitting in a corner arranging her toy animals by genus and species and marching them in an imaginary parade. Burst into tears feeling bad about leaving Gracie with no one to play with.

Work self into a lather, repeat.

Crossroads

This January, we are at a crossroads. Josh was 32 months old when he was diagnosed. Gracie is now 32 months old. For the first time as parents we face uncharted waters with Grace. As she moves forward from this point, she is healthy and pain free. Our experience with an almost three-year-old is limited to dealing with growing and learning along with illness.

Josh never stopped learning and growing cognitively. But his physical growth and strength slowed down quite a bit. He couldn't walk unaided, he couldn't jump or kick a ball. Gracie can do all these things. Josh had to grow up way too fast. He lived in a world of infections, fevers, extreme fatigue and weakness, blood counts and chemotherapy. He spent more time with adults then children of his own age. Gracie's world is much different. She can freely cavort with friends with no worries of catching a bug that can turn into a life threatening infection.

In many other ways, this brother and sister are wonderfully similar. The picture above depicts a favorite game of both of them: hatching from an egg made of pillows. Both of them wake up talking and don't stop until they pass out from exhaustion at the end of the day.

But when I look at the contrast of the lives of these two joyful 32 month-old children I feel a new sadness that I hadn't expected. I have a longing for Josh to have been able to continue the carefree life that Gracie is able to lead. I feel angry and resentful that he missed out on so much. I have to remind myself that just as we as parents didn't know what we were missing, Josh didn't either. His life was simply what it was, and it never stopped him from finding joy in each new moment.

But still...here are Josh and Gracie at the same age ready for bed. She's just finished doing somersaults among the bed clothes, he's lying in a hospital bed, recovering from back-to-back surgeries.

My sweet babies. I look at Gracie and I want a lifetime of happiness and love for her. I look at Josh and my heart breaks for the things he missed. It breaks for the things I missed. What would he be doing now? This kid who was fascinated with skateboards at the age of 18 months.

Where would his interest in music have taken him - already at nearly three, he could listen to a song once and repeat it back in perfect pitch. Would he still love dinosaurs? Would he and Gracie compliment each other's storytelling ability and imaginations?

I have just a few precious months left before Gracie plunges forward into childhood years that will be completely new to both of us. As I'm learning, it will also be a crossroads for me. I'll be moving away from a grief that I've grown familiar with, one with very few unexpected twists and turns. This new road is scary and sad. But I gain a lot of strength from the lessons of my children. Both of them have taught me that the best way to greet a new day is to look for the joy and fun that are sure to be there around the next corner. I'll be clinging tightly to this lesson in the months to come.

I see babies everywhere they're not...

Mid-September, almost 2 months old

Stress level: currently avoiding the issue

Chocolate consumption: 1/3 cup chocolate covered raisins, two handfuls of chocolate teddy bear crackers (organic!)

When Josh was three, he finally came around to our idea of adding to our family. He started talking about what to name a baby sister. I tossed out a number of suggestions including the name "Dorothy", this seemed perfect. It was my grandmother's name and also of course Dorothy Gale from Kansas in the Wizard of Oz. Josh loved the Wizard of Oz story. To my surprise, he vetoed this suggestion. "No," he said "that's not a good name because she wouldn't be the same Dorothy!"

Maybe this is why I don't pine for Danny when I see other people's babies. It's not the same baby. So, I can ooh and aah over them, tickle them under the chin, compare them to the size that Danny might be, and move on without a pang in my heart.

But oh, when I see a baby that's not a real baby - that's what really gets me.

Harold: the one with the purple crayon - he was the first one to get under my skin. You know this kid, right? He gets away with coloring all over his walls with a purple crayon, corrupting artistic toddlers everywhere. The other night, we were watching a "Harold" video with Gracie and all of the sudden, he got to me. Those cute blue footie pj's so loose and baggy. This tiny bald boy with the upturned nose and a crayon as big as his arm. Suddenly I started feeling the emptiness of my arms. I yearned for my little boy.

I was bowled over again a couple of nights later. Gordon and I were watching the video "Planet Earth." (Again with the TV!) There were two little polar bears just digging out of their den in the snow for the first time. Two cute little bundles of loose soft fur with the biggest, roundest dark eyes imaginable. They were staggering around on their untested limbs, wobbling and falling in the snow. At first, I couldn't figure out what the tug at my heartstrings was all about. Everybody loves baby animals. But it was bigger than that - I wanted to snuggle with a cuddly, wiggly little somebody brand new to the world.

Now it's mid-day. Gracie is snuggled in bed for a nap. I'm taking a moment to catch my breath, sitting on the sofa, watching the world out the window, listening to the clocks tick. I'm remembering the many times I sat just like this with a slumbering baby in my arms. Oh the joy! A million things to do, and no reason to do any of them because the most important thing is sitting, watching eyelids flutter, listening to peaceful breathing and feeling that relaxed trusting slumber. I want that feeling of offering my arms as a haven for complete safety. I want that timeless feeling of watching the world carry on with it's bustle knowing we're here in our untouchable bubble that, in this moment, is timeless.

This is where I see my son: a cartoon, a fuzzy baby animal and an empty lap, and in countless other unlikely places and things that I bump into every day. Who knew that a handful of photographs, and a name could steal my heart. How could I ever have imagined that the yearning to have him safe in my arms would be so strong that my heart breaks into a million pieces for every day of his life that I miss?

The future is very uncertain. I know this. We have first hand experience in this. Perhaps this is why the longing to bring him home is so great. We know we will never give up on this boy, but when we can bring him home remains a mystery. And while we wait, I'll keep seeing babies everywhere there are no babies.

And as most of you know, Josh did finally come up with a name for a baby sister. Hours after our initial conversation, he was reading a book about snakes. "Snakes are gross," he said. "Hey, Gross, that would be a great name for a baby sister!" Of course, being the positively reinforcing mother that I am, I complimented him on his choice and suggested a variation of "Grace." "OK." he said, and resumed his reading. And what a great name that has been: Grace meaning "freely given love of God." And of course, the highest compliment from a three-year-old boy: being named after a cool reptile!

While I was out making other plans....

Danny: Early August, two weeks old

Stress level: Medium high

Chocolate consumption: 2 truffles, 2 chocolate coins, one dark chocolate square

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. I had grand plans for many months to start a blog: sharing observations of motherhood at middle-age; updating with happy news about our adoption process; and getting to bed by nine-thirty every night leaving no laundry undone at the end of the day.

Well, procrastination on my part, and mistakes mixed with political turmoil have altered the terrain a bit. And of course the whole laundry idea was never realistic!

As a result the first official post and, I suspect, many more to follow will lead you along the rocky path we've found ourselves on as we try to bring little Danny home as quickly a possible.

Things started well enough, our time on the waiting list was short, all documents were forwarded to the appropriate parties quickly. The DNA results came back much more quickly then they usually do. Our pre-approval from the Department of Homeland Security was complete in record time.

All this was complete by the end of October. We fully expected that the next update would inform us that we had been entered into "PGN" the final stage of the process on the Guatemalan side. This is where all documents are checked and re-checked and then checked again before the big rubber stamp descends. We were excited and confident. Adoptions were to end in Guatemala at the end of the year, but those in process were promised to be "grandfathered" in. Since PGN was the last stage of the process, being there surely qualified us for the grandfathering.

But the update never came.

We waited, we called, we worried. Then just a few business days before the end of the year, we received notice that our Power of Attorney had been misplaced and was now in Guatemala. A rush was being put on our case. We went from planning to bring our son home in the spring to wondering if we'd ever bring him home. Power of Attorney is the very first step in the adoption "process." The most generous reading of the "grandfather" clause is that registered POA's qualify. But given the frantic rush at year end to register last minute POA's, would this be considered too early in the process?

To get into PGN, a hearing at Family Court must take place and a Social Worker interview with the birth mother must take place. Without POA, none of this could be arranged.

The last week of December was a frenzy. We called contacts, people prayed hard for us, we checked travel schedules just in case. We were prepared to fly to Guatemala and sign new POA's if necessary. Just before the close of business for the month of December, we received news that on December 21, a court date had occured, and that a Social Worker visit had taken place. This is all we know about our case.

Now Guatemala has dropped the other shoe: as of this week, no more new cases are being accepted into PGN. It is unclear if cases currently in PGN are continuing to move forward, but cases not yet in PGN are completely stalled. The new adoptions laws regarding "grandfathering" stipulated that pending cases must be registered within 30 days with the Central Authority. Catch 22: the Central Authority does not yet exist, and it has been given 60 days to form itself.

This is the quagmire we find ourselves in. Mistakes have been made, big mistakes. However, many are rushing to help us. The mistakes are water over the bridge and I'll try not to dwell on them when my energy is better spent moving forward.

The help from others has been a huge blessing. We appreciate your prayers, your thoughts and your kind words of support more than you can ever know. This is what will see us through until we are able to bring our son home.

In the meantime, we have much to be thankful for and many joyful moments in our lives. I hope one day that's all this blog will be about. As for the laundry - well...I think I'll let that one go.

The Adoption Timeline:

Several months after Josh was diagnosed, I joked with the nurses that I should receive an honorary RN. I knew how to draw blood, give meds, heparinize a central line and check for proper positioning of an NG tube.

Now, after navigating the adoption labyrinth, I feel entitled to another honorary degree.

Here then, as simply as I can make it, is the path we began to innocently walk down over a year ago:

In the U.S.:

1. The Choice: You choose an agency, fill out paperwork and jump in.


2. The Orientation: Four hours of training now qualifies us to meet with our social worker to pursue the adoption of a child. (Come to think of it, that’s four more hours of training then biological parents receive!)


3. The Microscope: You invite a social worker into your home which has been cleaned beyond an inch of its life. There is adoption conversation (you know it’s under the guise of seeing how you act in your every day setting.) She departs without inspecting the closets. Instead you are left with a five page, single spaced list of questions. These questions cover perspective adoptive parents’ lives starting in utero and ending with what you had for breakfast yesterday.


4. The Memoir: The spouse who can type the fastest prepares answers to these questions. In our case, the spouse who can type the fastest also talks the most, so our answers ran about 35 pages.


5. The Government steps in: meanwhile, you’re getting fingerprinted at the Department of Homeland Security. (Lesson learned: no joking.) State, local, municipal police departments must attest to the strength of your character. A background check is conducted. Applications for approval to adopt a foreign orphan are completed.
   On to the Dossier: now it’s time to assemble all materials plus a few more into a dossier to be scrutinized by the agency conducting adoptions as well as the Guatemalan government. No less then a dozen different types of information are required for each spouse. Everything must be notarized. Then the notaries must be checked out and notary approval must be notarized.


6. Off goes the Dossier: After days of frantic running around, checking and double checking, your life story, your hopes and dreams are in the mail.
   

In Guatemala:

Timeframe: 6 – 9 months

For a more "professional" description with tons of detail, please link to the following flow-chart: www.jcics.org/CIS%20Guat_Adop_Chart.pdf

For my rather unprofessional assesment: see below

1. Waiting list: We wait our turn on the boy list. We’re assuming we’ll get a referral in late August. Instead, one happy day in early August, this arrives in our e-mail box.
2. Acceptance: One week later, with all information in hand, we accept the referral. We have fallen in love with little Danny, less than a month old and perfect.
3. Power of Attorney: Power of Attorney is signed giving our Guatemalan lawyer permission to begin acting on our behalf.
4. DNA Requested: The birth mother and little Danny’s DNA is tested to ensure a biological relationship.
5. Pre-Approval Requested: The Department of Homeland Security is petitioned for pre-approval to proceed with the adoption
6. Social Worker Visit: At the same time, an appointment to Family Court is made. The birth-mother then meets with a social worker who determines whether she has made a willing, informed decision to make an adoption plan for the baby.
7. PGN: Once pre-approval and the social-worker visit are complete, the case with all accompanying paperwork is submitted to PGN. This is an acronym which I’m pretty sure translates into: Bureaucratic Black Hole. The PGN process takes about 8 weeks. However, anywhere along the way a case can be kicked out (KO) for additional paperwork. Once resubmitted, the timeline may start all over again.
8. Out!: Once out of PGN, the US Embassy authorizes permission for a second DNA test with the baby’s original DNA tested against a new sample to make sure it’s the same baby.
9. PINK: Once DNA comes back as a match, the embassy communicates an appointment to finalize paperwork and finally bring this beloved child home! The approval is on pink paper, hence the word “pink.”

New Laws in Guatemala:

Effective in 2008, Guatemala has suspended all adoptions. They will be rewriting adoption law. The Guatemalan government pledged that all cases in process at the end of 2007 would be allowed to continue.

• Problem: no one knows what "in process" means. Best guess is that Power of Attorney has been registered.
• Problem: under the "grandfathering" clause, all in process cases must be registered with the Central Authority. Unfortunately, this agency has yet to be established.
• Problem: effective January 3, 2008 no new cases are being accepted into PGN. No one knows if this is a permanent situation, or is temporary pending establishment of and registration with the Central Authority