Giving a little back
I keep in contact with a few of the other parents I know who adopted children in Vietnam. At some point or another we’ve all discussed the extreme poverty we all encountered in one way or another while we were there picking up our kids. Believe me, you couldn’t escape it. The parents who were able to meet their child’s birth parents tend to wonder whether they should send money back to them each year; the parents with abandoned kids just seem to wonder how to help ameliorate the problem of poverty. The problem of poverty is so overwhelming that at times it’s just easier to ignore it than to attempt to do something to help.
I know I’ve written about Kiva before, but I thought I’d mention them again. It’s a microfinance site that allows people like you and me to participate in loaning money to folks across the globe. Oscar and I are each lenders; I’ve been doing it long enough that all of my original loans have been repaid and I’ve been able to re-loan the same funds to other well-deserving individuals. Kiva has done the research that I am not able to do; they find business owners in need of funds, and people like us send them the money they need.
What I love about Kiva is that they allow the individual lenders to choose which people/groups whose loans the lender will fund. I also love that Kiva works with three field partners in Vietnam, so there always seem to be a number of Vietnamese women and men to whom we can lend funds (and BTW, the delinquency and default rates of the VN businesses on Kiva is 0% – zero!). If you’re looking for a way to help someone in need, you might want to look at Kiva. Are we individually going to change the world by making a $25 loan? No, but if we all did it . . .
Maybe I overreacted a little
Okay, so I’m almost done with my dossier. Yeah, I’m a little surprised, too. It’s amazing what having gone through this once does for your ability to pull together a bunch of mundane information in an incredibly small amount of time. That, and the fact that I’m doing this at the office, where I have a notary outside my office. All I’m missing right now is my police report and my medical letter, both of which I will get early next week (if I can figure out how this traveling notary thing works). This is by far the most productive I’ve been in months; quite likely the most productive I’ve been this year, in fact.
Anyway, to add to the great success of the day, I was able to finally program my remote control, allowing me to watch television for the first time since June 20th. This is huge to me. I’m not one of those people who think that they’re more intellectual than others by virtue of the fact that they don’t watch tv – or even better – they only watch certain erudite programs. Ha. Not this girl.
We moved in June into a lovely house that had recently been remodeled. All of the rooms had been wired for cable, of course, but the owner of the house IS one of those guys who doesn’t want to be known as a tv watcher, so none of these cables were actually pulled through the walls. Some guys I know were able to rig up a cable box to the movie projector (yeah, the owner doesn’t watch tv, but he did build a home theater, I guess to watch really smart films), but I needed a fancy remote control to actually use the cable box, which is in a utility room away from the theater. SO, enter the Logitech Harmony something or other. Very fancy – very complicated (it’s taken me two evenings to figure out simply how to change the channels, let alone adjust the volume or watch a dvd) – very pricey. But very worth it. I just changed channels without walking down the hall and through the garage to the utility room. I love technology and I heart this remote.
Repressed memories
I’ve launched myself full-force into my dossier for child #2 today. Can I tell you how much I hate this aspect of adoption? I agree that the sending country has every right in the world to ask for the things they require. I would be a little suspect of a country that didn’t ask for all of the basics (for those of you bio moms, the basics include over a dozen notarized documents, certified financial information, medical clearances and highly specific letters of reference – all of which must be certified at the county, state and federal level). Must say, though, that even though they have every right to ask for it, it is still a pain to produce all of this. I’m fairly certain that this aspect of adoption is one of the reasons that a lot of people automatically reject the notion of it.
My current frustration lies with the bank letter. In concept it’s no big deal, but the country I’m adopting from wants language from the bank that my financial future looks positive, that I have made good investments and that I am financially capable fo providing for a child. Yeah, that’s going to happen. All of these statements are true, but notwithstanding the fact that I bank with one of those “private” banks, there’s no way they’re going to make those statements. Of course, this just means that I’m going to have to enter into a protracted negotiation over what they’re willing to say. Obviously, the result is well-worth the frustration, but it’s annoying nonetheless.
My dossier for Vietnam must have been like this, too, I guess, but I seem to have repressed all of the negative memories of Oscar’s adoption (aside from my wait for visa approval – that I’m going to keep with me a while). Okay, enough whining, must return to the task at hand.
Got milk?
We finally do! Oscar is off the Enfamil and he doesn’t even seem to mind. I can’t tell you how pleased this makes me. Aside from the nasty stench associated with the formula, I was getting annoyed with the price gouging. $28 per can. Seriously? It ended up being our luxury item for the week. I attempted to switch to the Target knock-off, but it was clumpy, and Oscar was not amused. Neither was I, come to think of it, although I did appreciate that I could save $10. The Target brand was actually lumpier than the Vietnamese formula Oscar’s orphanage used. I’m off to think of things to do with the extra $120 I’ll have lying around each month now. So many options . . . like perhaps his college savings account. Well, there went that fun.
The eye thing
Oscar has something very wrong with one of his eyes. Actually, he might have something wrong with his brain, but whatever it is is affecting his vision. I first noticed that there was a problem the day after I picked him up in VN. His eye sort of shakes – the iris/pupil flits back and forth constantly, he turns his head to use only his left eye and he only uses his left hand. The doctor at the SOS clinic in Hanoi was the first to identify it as a serious problem, telling me that I should talk with my agency to determine whether I should even take him home, as I had not anticipated adopting a child with a special need.
Of course, I didn’t do that. Even taking into consideration how difficult my relationship with Oscar was early on there was no way that I would have considered leaving him behind in Vietnam. I automatically dismissed his suggestion, but the issue behind the suggestion (that there might be something significantly wrong with his vision) remained. Since our first visit to his pediatrician here in the States, we’ve seen a number of specialists, most of whom told me that the condition was something called ”nystagmus,” a condition that has no cure, has only one treatment that isn’t very successful and that may lead to complete vision loss. Others simply noted it was a complete vision loss (that’s what the PC medical world appears to call the condition formerly known as blindness). Great. We saw a neuro-ophthalmologist yesterday who wasn’t so convinced that this is nystagmus, but he was also not convinced that he knew what the condition actually is. He just knows it’s something he wishes weren’t there.
At this point, my frustration with the medical community is pretty pronounced. I understand that it is misdirected. It’s not their fault that there is something wrong with my son’s vision. It’s probably not even their fault that they can’t identify the problem. He is, after all, a one-year old who has extremely limited communication skills (unless you take into consideration his highly developed ability to grunt). I just wish I could ascertain what that problem actually is. At the most fundamental level, I wish I understood whether my son even has any vision in his “bad” eye. No one has been able to even tell me that. We’re at the point now that I’m patching his “good” eye at home in order to tell whether he can see with the other eye. So far, I can tell that he can track light with the eye, but who knows if he can actually see anything (it doesn’t appear that he can). I’m hoping that I’ll be able to get him to wear the patch long enough this evening to determine whether he’ll watch his favorite movie and if he can track any of the action.
The reason I mention this is that I’m finding it ironic that most of the people I’ve told about child #2 being HIV+ (I’m only telling people IRL if they’re immediate family members or people I’ll need to have write reference letters addressing my ability to parent a child with the virus) express so much concern about the stress that accompanies having a special needs child. They’re right. It is stressful. But it’s a stress I’ve been living with for a while already.
People like to tell me that it takes a special type of person to parent a special needs child. That is wholly untrue, IMO. It just takes a parent. I didn’t request a special needs child when I started the process to adopt Oscar, but I ended up with a child with a vision loss. I think it goes without saying that I would prefer that this weren’t the case. The disappointment I feel for him for what he might miss out on (e.g., driving a car, perhaps playing sports) is sometimes overwhelming, but I’m not sure that it changes our relationship. I mean, sure, it changes it on days like yesterday when he had his eyes dilated and spent the day in dark rooms refusing to eat and I tried to compensate for it by babying him more than usual. Yes, we spend more time in doctors’ offices and I spend more time on the phone with my insurance company, but our relationship isn’t different. I’m the same mom I would have been had he not had this problem, and he’s the same kid. He just can’t see out of one eye and I’m now able to see that there’s not necessarily a difference between parenting “special needs” and “healthy” children.
What I think about most is that if the orphanage had disclosed the existence of his vision problem, he would have been designated a “special needs” child, and I would not have adopted him. I wouldn’t have even considered it. That is unfathomable to me now. The fact is that Oscar would probably still be in his orphanage waiting for someone to choose him despite his “eye thing” (as we call it). The fact is that there are many other Oscars still in their orphanages in the same predicament, but I’ll leave that topic alone.
I promise I’m not going to start with the preachy posts; this one really was in remembrance of a certain girl last winter who rolled her eyes at the parents with SN kids who would reply to the posts on the Yahoo! groups about wanting a “healthy” kid – you know, the posts where the parents say “even if you ask for a healthy child you never know what you’re going to get.” I may have thought that they were stating a truism – of course you never know – but I missed their subtext, which is that if you only ask for a healthy child you never know what you’re going to miss out on. You could be missing out on the best thing to ever happen to you.
More than procrastination?
I still haven’t filed my I-600A. Yeah, yeah, I know I said I was going to do it. I didn’t. I think there might have been more to it than simple laziness (or procrastination as it’s more formally known – has a much more pleasing ring to it, don’t you think?). My placement agency has a woman who focuses on placing HIV+ children. I’ve talked with / emailed her a few times in the past couple of weeks about child #2, and she got me thinking about adopting from a country that I had not considered before – a Hague country no less. As a result, I’ve actually put together my I-800A application and am filing it tomorrow. I think that my procrastination actually just saved me $670.
More importantly, it appears that I’m switching countries. I am going to hold off discussing it until my dossier is submitted and I learn more about this new country’s process, so stay tuned.
How do you know?
As you’ve seen, I’ve been struggling with certain issues concerning my second child. Gender, race, health, age, etc. Two of these aren’t really tough issues. While I want a daughter, I’d be just as happy with another son (possibly happier, as I suspect Oscar would prefer a brother), so gender isn’t really plaguing my mind. Race, again, isn’t so much an issue, in that I don’t care about the color of his/her skin or where s/he is from. It might be easier as the kids grow up, though, if they had been born in areas of the world that are closer together (e.g., Vietnam and say, Thailand?). Aside from that, I’m interested in all sorts of different cultures, so geography isn’t a problem.
What I’m struggling with are age and health (or really just medical condition). More specifically, do I really need my next child to be an infant or toddler, and can I parent an HIV positive child? Perhaps oddly, the second question seems easier for me to answer. I think I can raise a child with HIV. With the advances drug companies have made in meds, the prognosis for HIV+ children is fantastic. It’s considered to be a manageable, chronic condition and not a deadly disease anymore. I think I also have the temperament required to deal with the multiple visits to specialists per year and not over-reacting to every sneeze or cough. Not to be dismissive of the severity of HIV at all, of course, but I do think it’s something that can be dealt with.
My current struggle revolves around birth order and the age of my second child. I think I’m ok with the concept of altering birth order (i.e., adopting a second child who is older than Oscar). I just don’t know whether I can deal with having a school-age child right now. I’m pretty accustomed now to being the mom of a toddler. I like it; I love the babbling, the funny walking, the tantrums where he stomps his feet, the silly dancing, his goofy way of focusing on everything and then breaking out in a great big smile. All of it. I like that most of our life takes place in our house, with breaks for outings and playdates. That all changes with an older child, right?
Say, if I were to adopt a six-year old, how would our lives change? She would be old enough to start school, although she wouldn’t speak English yet. I know that emotionally she would be younger than a six-year old who had spent her life with her family and had not been institutionalized, so that would be a consideration. I guess we’d have a tutor to help with language / school. I suppose she would be involved in some sort of activities (ballet, soccer, what have you). Is this where things get difficult as a single mom? The logistics alone of all this already have me concerned.
I wish there were a book that could walk me through this. There are all of these great parenting books that tell you what to expect with a newborn. There are others that tell you what an infant/toddler should be doing, so you can (and I did) extrapolate from them what you’ll be doing as a new mom to an eight-month old. The great thing is that after you kind of master the age when you get them, you grow with them and can anticipate what is coming next. What worries me is making this leap from a two-year old (realistically, Oscar will be a year older when the next adoption is finalized) to a six-year old. Have any of you done this?Am I crazy for considering this, or should this be left to the pros – the experienced parents out there who have already raised kindergardeners?
Unsettling
Was I the only one to find the drum sequence in the opening ceremony last night a little unsettling? In one respect it was fabulous – 2008 drummers on their Fou drums – awe-inspiring, really; but the message I suspect was meant behind it was a bit troubling.
He’s walking!
I don’t know how others are able to record these events for posterity. I certainly tried, but probably not very successfully . . .
More from the peanut gallery
I told my best friend at work today that I am going to adopt again. We had a long conversation about my frustration with the fact that my family planning is being considered as a factor in whether to make me a partner. Last time I checked, that’s sort of illegal. Long story short, his feedback was that I should wait until I make partner (2 years at the earliest).
I don’t want to wait. When I make a decision to do something; it’s time for me to do it. I feel compelled to have another child soon. I feel it in the same way that I was compelled to complete my dossier for Oscar. I imagine it sounds hokie, but I believe I was meant to be Oscar’s mom. Had I not submitted my dossier at the exact time I did, he would be with another family. I feel the same about this child. That I’m supposed to be working on this dossier now. Not in the same frenetic way I worked on Oscar’s dossier, but definitely should be doing it at this time. Crazy, hmm?
I also find it interesting that so many people of the very few people who know about this decision are very comfortable telling me that I shouldn’t adopt from Ethiopia. I don’t think I understand that. Is it because of racism? The fear of HIV/AIDs? No one ever said a thing about my decision to adopt from Vietnam. Is it more acceptable for a white woman to adopt an Asian baby than an African one? I’m not sure where this comes from.
Regardless, I had my home visit yesterday. I didn’t obsessively clean the house, and my social worker was as lovely as ever. She called Oscar “delicious,” which just capitvated me. Strangely, though, even she suggested I seriously consider another country. I don’t think she has anything against Ethiopia, but I found it odd that again I’m being told to look elsewhere. Are these opinions I should be considering? I’ll have to think on this a while.
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Etta’s Hats
Where I’ve Been
