Almost Three Years Ago
I co-founded an organization, the sole goal of which was to permit American parents to receive visas to allow their newly adopted Vietnamese children to come to the United States. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that I am not one of the moms behind this website.
If you have a chance, please sign this petition to help these parents bring their children home.
Please vote for Katie
A friend’s sweet little girl is entered in a photo contest for Parents magazing, please vote for Katie here. She has to be adorable – she’s from Oscar’s orphanage.
One
I hate to be a pain, but I do think I’m going to password protect some of my posts while I’m away. Just feeling a little too exposed and would like to know who is out there. I think sometimes I forget that adding a family member is usually something done in private, behind hospital doors (while screaming and cursing), etc. Even without the absence of hospitals and cursing (we all know there will be screaming), I somewhat feel compelled to have a modicum of privacy. Having said that, I’m happy to give out the password to those in the adoption community, please just let me know who you are.
So, I leave tomorrow. I’m not at the point where I get all sentimental and wax philosophical, so this is not going to be that post. Instead, I’m going to share with you the brilliance of my child, Oscar. This morning Oscar awoke in a mood. I think it has to do with the fact that he knows I’m leaving and he’s just unsettled, but of course he could just be in a snit. Sometimes when these moods hit, I let him watch a movie on the laptop in bed. Today, I turned on the movie Cars, which he is just starting to love. He watched for a while and then jumped out of the bed.
I thought he was just done and wanted breakfast. In a couple of seconds I hear something scraping along the tile in the bathroom. Then a thud, like a heavy plastic toy being dropped. Then the scraping. Intrigued, I peer into the hall to see my son lugging his toilet from the bathroom. He brings it into the bedroom, where I think he’s going to place it on the floor and do what he needs to do. Nope. My little guy lifts the toilet over his head and places it on top of the bed, where he climbs onto his mini throne and pees while watching his movie on the laptop on the bed, looking at me like “why was I the one who had to think of this?”
My son, the genius. Sorry there weren’t photos from the earlier incident, but I was in a bit of a rush to get the toilet off the sheets. This is just a snapshot of Oscar before he went to music class this morning. Isn’t he beautiful?
I know I was supposed to stop my shopping, but the other day I was at the site of another mom adopting from Ethiopia with my agency and the urge struck again. I showed some restraint, but just had to place an order for the cutest little diaper covers ever . . . they’re called “bloomers,” I believe, but I have a bit of a tough time saying that aloud for some reason. Whatever you want to call them, look how cute they are!
Honestly, if you have a little girl in diapers, you should totally check out her website. In fact, you should check her out even if you don’t need bloomers. She’s fabulous and she does amazing custom embroidery!
Two
I’m seriously contemplating password protecting some posts while I’m away, so if you would like the password, please let me know.
Three
First, thank you all for your thoughts on my last post. Honestly, when it was happening, I felt a bit disconnected, as if I could not be hearing what I thought I was. . . but I was, and she meant what I heard (even if she didn’t know what she was revealing about herself). I knew that adopting a child from Africa would present issues entirely different from those involved in adopting from Asia, but I guess I wasn’t expecting to be hit with the race issue, even subtly, until she got home.
Second, I’m feeling a bit better about leaving Oscar. I’m not happy about it (at all), but I do know that this is the best choice for this particular situation. I’m really excited about having my very short window of Etta-only time in Ethiopia. I’m even talking with the driver I hired about a day trip out of the city. A very brief trip, obviously, since in addition to seeing the countryside, I am going to be spending time at both Etta’s orphanage and care center, shopping for a lot of items I can only buy in Ethiopia and hoping to meet with some members of Etta’s birth family. Oh, and getting to know my daughter. Clearly, the day trip will be the first thing to be set aside if things get too busy, but I hate the idea of going to Ethiopia and only seeing the city and not the countryside that is more indicative of where my daughter is from.
I also don’t want to make the mistake of not buying gifts for Etta in country like I did with Oscar. I just look back and shake my head with wonder when I think about the fact that I came back from almost two months in Vietnam with very little to show for it in terms of keepsakes for Oscar. I’ve never been one of those people who comes home from trips with souvenirs. I always think of the memories of the trip or the photos as the souvenirs, but I think it’s different when you’re bringing a child from another country home with you. I guess we’ll just need to go back to Vietnam and do things right.
Third, can I tell you how excited I am about meeting Etta? I feel a little guilty about this, actually. My feelings this time are so different from when I adopted Oscar. I was so concerned about him. We had heard so many stories about many children dying in orphanages in the Northern part of Vietnam that winter he was stuck there, deaths as a result of simple little viruses, the horrible cold weather and the fact that the orphanages did not have heat (which Oscar’s now does, thankfully), and the fact that formula was in short supply. Couple all that with the fact that I did not have a single photo of him where he looked anything but miserable and I was desperate to get him, but I wasn’t really excited to get him, if you know what I’m saying.
I know that my recollection of Oscar’s adoption is significantly colored by many factors, so it’s hard for me to truly remember what I was feeling, but I know it was not “this.” I also know that whatever I’m feeling now is likely attributable in great part because of what I feel for Oscar now. . . how great it is to be his mom, and I simply assume that I will feel that way about Etta. I guess I’ll get to see for real very soon, since I leave in THREE short days!
A conversation with my not so color blind eye doctor
I went to my eye doctor today to get my new contact lenses checked. As she was peering into my eyes we got onto the topic of children. I mentioned I was about to have my second, which of course led to the usual confused glance at my stomach (which thankfully does not look like it contains a baby bump) and my explanation of Etta’s impending arrival. When informed where Etta currently resides, her brilliant response?
“Oh, so she’ll be one of those dark-skinned babies, then.”
Huh? I should have put that in quotes, since I, in fact, said “huh?”
“Well, yes, if she’s from Ethiopia, she’ll be dark-skinned, of course, but that’s ok.”
“Oh,” I said. I’m articulate like that.
“Well, sure, it will be quite a contrast with your blonde hair.”
“I guess so. I didn’t think of her as an accessory, but I suppose it should make for interesting family portraits, since my son was born in Vietnam.” Just to see where she’d take things.
“Hmm, that is very odd, isn’t it? Do you think they’ll be able to like each other, given their cultural differences? You know, you’re very lucky to live in this area of the country. In some areas people wouldn’t be as understanding.”
“Understanding of what? The fact that members of my family have different skin tones?” . . . refusing to touch the innate cultural differences issue (since we all know how loaded Vietnamese – Ethiopian relations can be, jeez).
“Yes, it can be very confusing. Just the other day I was at my son’s soccer game and I was talking to a very nice Hispanic man who was pointing to a boy on the field, and he seemed to indicate that he was his son, but this boy was very white. It just gets very confusing to know who belongs with who.”
“Right, maybe we could dress alike to make it easier on everyone.”
“That could be helpful, but it might be better if you’re just very clear that your children are adopted.”
“Well, my children were adopted, but that happened in the past, and it’s not a distinction I would want to make in any event. They’re just my kids.”
“See,” nervous laugh here, “it’s just all so confusing.”
Stupid people make me sad.
Another update from Addis
Etta “is now at the care center. She is a smiley beautiful little baby. I loved on her and got you some more pictures.” Yay! What am I going to do with a smiley, happy baby? I’ve never had one of those before. Wait. Maybe Oscar was a smiley, happy baby before I got him and I turned him into someone not so happy for that first year. I probably should not go down that path, right?
We spent most of the weekend packing. Well, other than the twelve hours I spent working (first time in a long time I had to spend such a concentrated portion of the weekend toiling away on something other than scrubbing floors or finding creative ways to humor my toddler). And when I say “we,” I mean I packed and Oscar tried to unpack everything. And when I say “tried,” I mean did. I bought some of those huge containers of chewable vitamins and Oscar took each and every. single. one of them out to play, signing “eat” to me. As if he didn’t have a nice big container of them all his own in the kitchen that we had opened earlier in the day. All of Etta’s things are packed, as are our orphanage donations, I’m just having a difficult time figuring out what to pack for myself.
The weather reports I see all forecast days in the 70s, but my iPhone weather app has been saying it’s 85-91 in Addis when I check during the daytime there over the past week. Friends who have returned recently talk about it being hot, but some of them are from places where the weather quite cold now. I would err on the side of overpacking (which is not a challenge for me, believe me), but I’m going to be pushing 50 pounds on both of my pieces of luggage. I’m betting I’ll hit the weight limit on the carry on as well. I am incapable of minimalism. Eventually I will thrown in a few pairs of jeans and cargo pants, with a number of t-shirts and call it a day, but apparently I’m not there yet. I suspect there is some part of me that is dreaming that I will pull together the perfect ensemble that will put Etta immediately at ease, happy that this stylish woman is to be her mom. Even I am laughing at that one, as are my parents, who witnessed via Skype yesterday young Oscar spending a few minutes examining my hair and noting for all that my roots might not be the precise same color as the rest of my hair. Even without words he made himself very clear.
Current goal is to have both bags zipped up by Saturday morning, which will be one week before I’m supposed to depart.
I didn’t say I wasn’t going to count down at all. I’m just not going to do it every single day (at least not yet).
Holy cow
I just looked at the calendar and saw that if I get the embassy date I think I will, I will be on a plane one month from today on my way to Etta. I guess I should start talking to a travel agent.
I am not going to lie, my fingers are frozen right now. One month.
Now what?
Thank you all for your sweet comments and wishes for our newly expanded family. For those of you who remarked, either here or on FB, about this all seeming like it flew by, you have no idea how accurate you are (well, with the exception of the four-day period immediately preceding the court date, which was torture). How fast was it? Well, when I accepted my referral I told myself that I was not going to start whining about getting a court date until 6 weeks after my referral. I put reminders on my Outlook calendar to notify me when each week had passed. This morning I looked at my calendar for next week and saw the reminder for next Tuesday – “Week 5 Finished”. . . and yet, I’ve already passed court and am waiting for my Embassy date. Unbelievable. What’s surprising to me is that three families, including mine, went onto the baby girl wait list within about a week of each other. We received referrals right before Christmas, January 8 (I remember because this made me #1) and then one month later on February 8 and yet we all passed court within two days of each other. Bizarre how that ended up working.
What happens next? Apparently I am waiting for Etta’s birth certificate and Ethiopian passport, which will then be delivered to the Embassy, along with a bunch of other docs, I imagine, in order for our Embassy appointment to be scheduled. We’ve been told end of April/beginning of May, but who knows? I think 6 families with my agency passed court this week, so hopefully we’ll have one or two nice travel groups.
In the meantime, I’ve put together a little gift for Etta that will be taken to her by a super generous and sweet mom with my agency. She’s leaving to pick up her son in just a couple of weeks. Another friend is just returning from Ethiopia right now with her daughter. She loved on Etta and took tons of pics and some video, so I can’t wait to get the details from her.
I’m also working on her American name. She is currently named Dink Alem, which means amazing world. Obviously, I love the name, but using the word “dink” in a house with a child from Vietnam does not seem appropriate. I’m 99% sure I’m naming her Gabre Ella Grayson (Gabre is an Ethiopian name), but I’ve changed my mind before, so . . .
So, that’s where we are. I’ve already started packing. Pathetic, I know, but it gave me an opportunity to take out Etta’s pretty little clothes (not that I’m taking many of those with me to Ethiopia – we all know the risk of giardia and blow-outs; I’m thinking we’ll take the basics and save the pretty stuff for home). I’ve been buying bows and headbands for my beautiful big bald baby and am even thinking about moving the crib into my room to get Oscar used to the change before I leave for Ethiopia.
Wait, did you get that? Yeah, “before I leave”. Not we. The accelerated timeline I am now on is not going to allow me to have much time in country. I just don’t think it makes sense to fly Oscar more than half way around the world, subject him to jetlag and then turn right around and subject him to another 33 hours of travel in which he can’t sit on my lap because the girl in all of those pictures is already on it. I hate the idea of leaving him at home, but I think it might be the smarter choice. Especially since reading the blog of a family who just traveled with their toddler son who passed out a day or two after arriving in Addis. He’s fine, but it really served as a reminder of just how exhausting travel can be. Of course, I’ve changed my mind on this twice already. . .
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Etta’s Hats
Where I’ve Been
