Nesting

I missed out on two fun symptoms when I was pregnant with my girls.  I never craved weird food items and I didn't go through a nesting phase.  People asked me all the time, "What are you craving?"  When I gave the pathetically boring answer-Nothing, they were always very disappointed in me!  I was disappointed in myself!  I had so anticipated craving  Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, pepperoni pizza, Capn Crunch cereal, and caramel brownies that when I didn't have cravings, I had to go eat all those things just to console myself.  A lot of brownies later and I'm doing just fine.  But, I also never went through a wacked out absorption with organizing and re cleaning my entire house.  Now yes, I can hear some of you chuckling.  You're laughing at the idea of me thinking there is something left in my house to be organized.  Touche.  But, even though I am a neat freak and I can't stand clutter, I do also hide a dirty drawer habit.  Or closet.  Or, before Cici was born, an entire junk room.

Organized, for the first time ever!

Feel free to come over and look at my house now.  The week before the girls and I got the flu, I went bat crap crazy and organized places that have never been organized before!  Closets, cupboards, clothes, books, there was no mercy.  Why am I nesting for a child who will likely not even arrive this year?  Why did I clean out our landing closet that has actually never been cleaned out since we moved here?  Why am I planning to line a cupboard and drawers with shelf paper when I've lived here 6 years without ever completing that task?  I have no idea.  Maybe it has to do with the fact that unlike with the girls, someone will actually visit my house and determine whether or not it's safe for children.  Maybe, but not likely.  The aforementioned closets and cupboards were not really dangerous, and they didn't even look that messy (well under the sink was a bit gross!)  It was only me who was always driven crazy by the fact that not everything had a place and those areas just seemed to attract random junk which multiplied like happy hoppy bunny rabbits.  And besides, I had enough actual home prep work for the social worker's visit-creating an evacuation plan (in writing) with emergency kit, extra fire extinguishers, and smoke detectors.  Setting up an area for the baby to show we are prepared for him, including crib, dresser, baby items, and decor.  Re baby proofing our house, including new cabinet locks, outlet covers, and stabilizing more bookshelves.  So, I really did not need more to do.

So why all the frantic pregnancy energy when I'm not biologically pregnant?  When I was really pregnant, I wasn't organizing closets and scrubbing underneath sinks to prepare for the baby.  I was buying cute little hair ribbons and fun adorable outfits.  I was going to doctor's appointments to see how big my baby was and hear her heart beat.  I was learning about the benefits of breast feeding while feeling her kick inside me. . . .

Ahhh. There is no baby growing inside me.  My baby, who has probably already been born, is miles away and there is more about him that I don't know than knowing how to organize all the closets in the world.  I can't buy him outfits, or at least not too many, because I don't know what size he is or how old he will be when he is able to come home.  There are no doctors appointments.  He may not be receiving any medical care, or he may be living in a hospital, abandoned by his mother, too young for an orphanage.   Now I am researching cleft palate, crossed eyes, and heart murmurs as Bard and I face anguishing decisions regarding what, if any, special needs we can accept.

Alexander Vinokourov wins Gold in Mens Cycling.

There is no baby growing inside of me.  So, I clean out a cupboard.  And feel him move.  I read the news about Kazakhstan (Kazakhstan is fighting Russia over Russia's use of its space launches-which are inconveniently-for Russia-located in Kazakhstan, all 7 Kazakh gold medalists from the Olympics will be featured on new stamps, and Kazakhstan is becoming quite the hot market for pharmaceuticals, but did not receive a very positive rating from the S&P.)  And with every piece of news, I learn something new about my child.  I purchase a piece of Kazakh art and I feel his heartbeat.  I read about Kazakhstan food and I see my son. Maybe I'm controlling, maybe I'm crazy, but any little action, no matter how big or how small, that relates to our adoption, I will do it. Love is a verb.  And as I move, I move closer to my son.  Closer to bringing him home.  And closer to seeing him grow, in our home.

Family

There is a misconception about adoption (well, there are probably hundreds of misconceptions but one blog at a time!)  People-who haven't adopted-think that is must be hard to meet a perfect stranger and then start bonding with him or her and bring this child into your family.  Ahh, but you see, even though my son doesn't know me yet, I have already bonded with him, he is already part of my family.  He is with me when my girls are sick and I wonder if he has been sick yet, who will care for him when I am not there?  He is with me when I go to bed at 10pm and know that it is lunch time in Kazakhstan, what is he eating for lunch?  He is with me when I go out to dinner with Bard and there is a little boy, about a year old sitting at the table next to us, is that what my son will look like?  He is with me when I read books and blogs about Kazakhstan and essentially devour any information I can find about this unique and amazing country.  Interesting Kazakh fact for the day-the steppe in Kazakhstan (think US prairie but much, much bigger) is the largest in the world and is the foundation for their nomadic, tribal culture.  It's so important for me to learn about Kazakhstan, because this is who my son is, but it's also important because it's now a part of who I am.  Every thing I do, all throughout the day, brings me closer to him. In every possible way, through any tiny connection, I relate what I am going through to him.  I've been doing this for months.  And will continue doing it for months.  He is part of our family.

So, as I share these family pictures with you, know that they are the last ones we will have done before including the newest member of our family!  We normally take pictures before Christmas (with the fabulous Chelle Nicole Photography!) and although there is a slight part of me that is hopeful to have him home before then, I can't place much weight on that dream, so maybe our pictures will be done next year.  Either way, as I prepared for these pictures, he was on my mind the whole time.  We could do a shot of all three kids together.  Daddy with the girls, Mommy and son. Would he smile the whole time like Evelyn, stare at the ground and stubbornly refuse to look up like Cici, or some funny (I use that term lightly) mix in between them?  Hmmm, what will we wear?  Oh, no worries, I figured that one out.  Oh yes, I did!

It's so crazy to think of what our family will look like a year or so from now, not just in pictures, but in day to day life.  Three kids, we'll be out numbered!  Evelyn talks about her baby brother all the time, draws pictures of our family with him right there with us and asks when we are going to Kazakhstan.  Cici of course it too little to understand any of these events.  But by the time we are actually in Kazakhstan, she will be about the same age Evelyn was when we had Cici.  I'm sure the whole month in Kazakhstan will be exciting, exhausting, and emotional-for them and us.   But what about after?  I know there will be hard times, there are with adding any sibling.  I was exhausted after Cici was born and although I think that transition went well over all, there were many challenging moments and I relied a lot on Bard, friends and family, a little extra PBS, and a lot more coffee!  As much as I read about other families who have adopted from Kazakhstan, as much as I study international adoptions, and as much as we educate ourselves, prepare our home, and pray, pray, pray, there is no way we can truly be prepared to bring a new child into our family.  But that is the beauty of family.  Family is not
what you plan for, it's not an ideal, and it's so much more than the sum of its pieces.
With all the unexpected issues that a third child will bring, there will also be many unexpected joys.  Little moments of the kids bonding together.  Passions that he will develop over the years.  I can't possibly imagine the joys this unknown child will bring to our family.  But there's that misconception again.  He is not unknown.  He is my son.

My Silk Road

Cheburashka

I've been avoiding this blog post.  Bard and I decided where to adopt from a week ago and part of me wanted to have some crazy "country" reveal where we unroll the country's flag from a tube and then post a video and pictures on facebook. Just like colored balloons popping out of a box to show whether a couple is having a boy or a girl. But I couldn't do it.  One, I'm really not a balloon in a box kind of girl (please know that if that is how you revealed your baby's gender, I love it and you're amazing!) and two, it's so bittersweet that I wish the word had never been used before so that I could apply it only to this experience.  Saying yes also means saying no.  And saying no is painful.  We want to hold onto the past, but then we can not be free to move forward. Letting go is a journey.  That's why the phrase isn't "let go"  it's "letting" - a continual act that must be done and re done.  Which is okay.  But painful.  My heart hurts.  And I don't want to leave the past behind, because it is part of me.  I cannot deny it but how does it become part of me without consuming who I am?

Still, life goes on.  We were driving in the car the other day and Evelyn (my four year old) was listening to the radio.  She heard a line from a popular song, "Only rainbows after rain" and said, "That's wrong, rainbows happen while it rains.  If you wait til the rain is gone, there won't be a rainbow."  Hmmm.  I don't normally think of science, four year olds, and emotions merging to create a universal truth, but there it was.  I've had glimmers of rainbows during the rain. Sometimes shaky, sometimes brilliant, and as I start to look back, I can see their arc, over all.  Rainbows are a promise of an everlasting.  A constant amidst change and a truth within doubt.  And that is my silk road, a journey, sometimes fading, sometimes clear, always with Truth.

I asked for a sign.  It's not a step I would normally take, but had recently been advised that sometimes it's okay to just put yourself out there.  So, every day, I spent more and more time in Central Asia.  Delving into a country that has been shrouded in mist.  Hidden by conquerors, protected by geography, I learned more and I loved more.  Then I felt guilty, and fearful.  It seemed odd just to make a decision within days and it seemed impossible to accept closure.  So I researched Bulgaria too!  I am a bit nutty :)  Bulgaria is a beautiful country, many of the orphans are Roma (which I alluded to in a previous blog, by the way, if you are wondering what on earth I am talking about, you'll have to go back to December!)  They are gorgeous and looked out at me with haunting dark eyes, fragile and alone.  And if you've ever thought about adoption, Bulgaria is a great option.  Which is what I kept telling myself as I read how the first apples came from Kazakhstan and horses were domesticated there long before they were in Europe or Africa.  But how could I choose Kazkhstan?  How could I choose any country for that matter, but how could I choose one that was so close to Russia but was not Russia?    I can not adopt a child from a country because its second fiddle and I will not adopt from some place just because some man tells me what I can't do.  And what about the history of conflict between Russia and Kazakhstan, how could I best respect my child's birth country? This is not just a form for me to fill out, it's a love story, it's an identity, it's who we are and where we come from.  This is humanity.  So I asked for a sign.

Remember my cheburashka?  http://bardandkristin.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-stockings-were-hung.html  This was one of my favorite gifts from Christmas.  I loved finding this doll and after the ban went into effect I put it on top of my bookshelf.  It was painful to look at and painful to put away.  I needed to give this doll to my child.  But the doll says Russian phrases, which is ridiculous.  Maybe okay for Bulgaria, their languages are similar.  Maybe okay for Kazakhstan, they speak Russian, but still, ridiculous.  So I googled Cheburashka and Kazakhstan.  Oh yes, I did.  I might not be the balloon in a box girl, but I am the, I can't trust myself or anything so I have to see this happen girl. Nothing came up.  Why?  Because that is the most random search ever!  Okay, whatever.  The next day I was reading a yahoo forum for families who had adopted from Kazakhstan.  Yes.  I hadn't chosen which country to adopt from but I had become a member of a yahoo group and was reading people's blogs.  Didn't we already establish that I'm "that girl?!"  One of the posters was talking about what kind of toys to bring to the orphanage and she said her coordinator had purchased a cheburashka for the children.  I read the line again.  How does God speak to you?  Because my God speaks in the details.  I knew it.  My first thought was, it's a sign.  My second thought was, I need another sign.  That girl.

Charyn Canyon, 2nd Largest in the World.

I started to see Asian people.  Now this really is crazy because I live in an area that is very diverse and I am surrounded by Asian people.  I have friends who are Asian, neighbors who are Asian, and know several families who have adopted Asian children!  And, even though the odds were against it, if we had adopted a Russian child, one from the far east of Russia quite possibly could have been Asian.  But I'm telling you, I never saw an Asian person before that weekend.  I googled images of Asian orphans (if you needed a license to google, they would have taken mine away by now.)  The movie I watched had a man who appeared Asian, I studied him for over two hours.  There were little Asian boys at Target and I wondered if my son would look like them.  But those were not signs and I had not chosen my country yet.  I looked up Kazakhstan books on Amazon, music, house decor.  I read how to say hello and goodbye.  I read all about the major cities in Kazakhstan, could we live there for a month?  There is a beautiful canyon, a park everyone says you have to go to, great Korean food (long story), and I know how much it costs to fly there at several different times of the year.  But I needed a sign.

So I got sick.  God has learned with me that I am very stubborn and will stop on my own.  In fact, Bard told me just last night that I was so inflexible only Putin hitting me over the head with a lead pipe could get me to change my mind!  Now, that is not a very romantic statement but it is probably very true.  I was so miserable.  I did not move from my bed unless it was to my couch.  However, I did manage to have a 40 minute conversation with one of the agency directors regarding our interest in Kazkahstan (and Bulgaria.)  A pastor of Bard's old church is one of the directors at this agency and we would have chosen them for Russia except they did not adopt in the Bryansk region.  I found out through some highly coincidental (google) research that they may have a Kazakh program and asked Bard to email his old pastor.  Sure enough, they had just received their accreditation.  And the program director was Kazak, but ethnic Russian, who better to discuss my concerns regarding Russia and Kazakhstan with?  What a good. . .turn of events.  I had a very reassuring conversation with her and told Bard we should really think about adopting from Kazakhstan.

Horseback Riding is a Huge Part of Kazakh Culture.

The next day I was even more sick and between that, Russia playing roulette, and our furnace blowing smoke into Evelyn's room, I was overcome.  I sat on the couch, an emotional fool.  I had the sign.  It was me. I was the change.  Not Putin.  Not some far away parliament.  Not random Soviet Union countries.  The journey was through me, through my heart, taking me to a new place.  And I had to be vulnerable, to open up, to fall in love.  So I did.  Bard came and sat down next to me.  I looked him in the eye and asked if we could adopt our child from Kazakhstan.  Vulnerable. I bought two books on Kazakhstan, one for me, one for the girls and made a wish list for many more.  Open. The director at the agency (who by the way, grew up playing with Cheburashka; it was her favorite character) is in Kazkhstan right now and willing to bring us back items for our home, so our home can reflect our country, reflect our child.  I love this country.  I love Kazakhstan and I love that I will adopt a child from such a beautiful place, full of east/west paradoxes, graceful tolerances, determination paired with finesse, vast ruggedness and modern cities.  I love that most Americans don't know anything about this country and I love that I get discover and share with you its mystery and its future.  I can't wait to go there, to meet people, to see the mountains, to visit the memorials, to seep every aspect of this culture in through my pores until I live and breathe it and then share it with my child.  Who he is.  Where we have come from.  Who we are as a family.

Victory Park

My silk road took me to Moscow.  But that was not the ending, just the beginning.  Because from there I traveled to Kazakhstan.  I am not adopting from Kazakhstan because I cannot adopt from Russia.  I cannot adopt from Russia because I am adopting from Kazakhstan.  Rainbows may appear fragile, and only come when it rains.  But their color is a reflection of Light.  They encompass the horizon.  Not the horizon we can see, but the entire horizon, displayed for us, as we journey through sun and rain, as we recreate who we are, past, present, and future.

I like to keep my issues drawn

It's always darkest before the dawn

And I've been a fool and I've been blind

I can never leave the past behind

I can see no way, I can see no way

I'm always dragging that horse around

Our love is questioned, such a mournful sound

Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground

So I like to keep my issues drawn

It's always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out

And it's hard to dance with the devil on your back

So shake him off

~Florence and the Machine~

The Home Study Process, otherwise known as, Dear Bard, your wife has gone mad, she will likely return sometime next year. . .

And we're off, like a herd of turtles!  We have filled out the form for our home study application and should mail it back today, along with our non refundable deposit!  Although we have not officially chosen or signed with an agency-due to some variables that have to be worked through-starting the home study process is a good step and begins what is known as "the paper chase."  Oh yeah, we're learning adoptionese which is a confusing and expensive language, known only to those wonderful, crazy people who pursue adoption. I was made to do this.  And it will be my great white whale!  There's honestly nothing I love more than project management, especially one that culminates in an event, and if it involves spinning a bajillion china plates in the air all the better.

So, what plates am I spinning?  Well, Friday I created a calendar of projects for Bard and I to complete over the next six weeks-probably about the time a social worker will come to our house for a three hour tour and interview process.  Some of the projects are simple-updating, re installing baby proof locks on our cabinets and putting on more outlet covers.  Some are complicated-organizing the basement and creating an area for the baby (side note-the baby will not be in the basement, those are two separate tasks!)  Today I go to buy a white  board that will be the new featured artwork in our home.  Forget family pictures and oil paintings!  Bring on the color coded (one for me, one for Bard) weekly task list of "paper" items. This week, renew Bard and Evelyn's passports and apply for Cici's-Bard, mail home study application-Kristin, call counselors for letters-Kristin and Bard, make physical appointment-Bard, etc, etc, etc.  Over the next 6 months we will get physicals, proof of life insurance (for both of us), references from several friends/co workers, background checks, letters from our physicians, letters from our financial institutions, copies of birth/marriage/divorce certificates, apply to the government to adopt a child from a Hague Convention country (I-800), proof of home ownership, FBI finger print cleared, employment verification, go through dozens of hours of adoption education, psych evaluations, and interviews.  And that's actually the short list.  Then everything is notarized.  And then it's apostilled-which basically means that the notarization is notarized.  Ahh, government :)

How many plates was that?  I lost track!  And everything is a delicately connected timeline-the finger prints alone can take 4-12 weeks so if you wait to do that til the last minute, then you're stuck!  All of this, and then some, is part of the dossier, which can't be completed without our agency, but the home study is one of the biggest components of that so we are beginning it now.  The dossier typically takes about 6 months to complete and must be sent to our government and the adopting country's government-it's basically our request to adopt, and proof that we are capable parents.  Then, the ball is pretty much in their court, so we sit and wait.  I'm not sure which is worse, the several months of mad craziness involved in getting our dossier together, or the several months of waiting for approval and to hear about our potential child.  They are probably about equal in their stress level :/

But, it feels good to have begun, slightly exciting, slightly terrifying, and a whole lot of nervous energy thrown together.  Next time you see me, just back away slowly. . .

Next blog. . .a country for our child. . .

Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?

Well, if you are sitting through my long blogs, at least you'll get a pretty good geography lesson :)  Did you see that?!  I made a joke!  Progress.

So, I am probably the most pragmatic and practical person in the world today (yes, I just saw those of you who know me well smirk and roll your eyes.)  It's only my artistic side that saves me, but it's often quite a battle.  On the very day that Putin signed his bill, I was a mess.  Crying at everything, in a fog, unable to cope-I'd love to say that I was a hot mess but I'm too old to really know what that means and besides, I think I was just a mess mess.  However, I still got online and started looking at other countries to adopt from.  How could I do that?!  If you've read my other blog posts about adopting from Russia, starting to look right away might seem odd to you, since it was such a long held and deeply personal dream for me.  Granted, I did not do a lot of research that day, but I did start somewhere.  And since a lot of you have asked what are plans are, here is where we are and maybe where we are going.

First, domestic adoption.  Please know that I have nothing but respect and love for people who adopt or foster children from the US, in fact, many of them are my close friends and family.  Estimates are difficult, but over a hundred thousand children were adopted domestically in 2008, so clearly there is a huge need.   I go into greater detail and passion on this issue in earlier blogs, but our reasons for choosing Russia were one, answering a call from God, and two, we both have a long connection with Russia, speak Russian, got our degrees in Russian, spent time there and have friends who are living there now. Now that Russia is not an option, we have discussed domestic adoption but for a variety of reasons do not feel like this is the right path for our family.  Adoption is an intimate decision, one that I hope will be embraced by more people. There are millions of orphans here in the US and around the world who are just waiting for love. I have friends and family who work for organizations that help orphans internationally and right here, next door to you and in school with your child.  So please, adopt. And adopt from where you feel called to adopt and remember that it is a very personal decision that no one makes lightly.

So, where would we adopt from then?  Well, our first thought was to look at former Russian/Soviet countries as those regions would probably have a lot in common with Russia and the cultural background, language, and people may all be quite similar.  Immediately I ran into problems.  One country had suspended adoptions and there had been no process for years.  Another country only allowed adoptions for school age children.  Another country only allowed adoptions for special needs countries.  Another country had a 2-4 year wait for a young boy.  Another country had a very difficult government and I'm certainly not going down that road again!  And even though both the Russians and Soviets were quite the busy little beavers in building their empires on the backs of surrounding kingdoms, I was starting to run out of countries! We have discussed older children and special needs.  Bard and I are in a pretty good place and perhaps could offer a wonderful home to a child who has very little to hope for out of life.  But we've decided not to change the girls' birth order.  This is not cut and dry, and if you feel like you can adopt an older child, please do so, there are many out there who are precious children, waiting for love.  It's just not the right decision for us, and remember, adoption is a very personal decision.  So why not special needs?  Actually, we're still talking about special needs.  But, with two young children of our own, and me needing to work part time, we do not feel like we could just take a child with any amount of needs and some countries only allow for adoptions of what they term "in-correctable special needs."  And, anyone who is adopting, especially internationally and thinks they will get a child without some level of special needs, is simply going into this with eyes wide shut.  Very likely our child will need some type of speech therapy as well as dealing with vision issues and/or development of gross and fine motor skills.  So, we are doing more research and seeing what, again, is best for our family.

Okay, that was a lot, now where are we?  We are in Bulgaria and Kazakstan?  Where?  Bulgaria and Kazakhstan.  Which is slightly humorous to me, because if you are familiar with that region, you know that those countries are on different borders of Russia.  Which, maybe for the US would not be saying a lot, but keep in mind that Russia is twice the size of the US and has 9 time zones.  So, big.  You are probably asking a fairly expected question, "Kazakh what?"  Bulgaria is a Southeastern European country, in between Romania and Greece, so maybe a bit more known.  If you can find Kazakhstan on a map, I will buy you a latte!  Kazakhstan is in Central Asia, just to the west of China and north of Afghanistan, it's huge, fairly well developed, and has a lot in common with Russia, mainly because Russia kept conquering it, one of Russia's little idiosyncrasies.  Both countries have children who need to be adopted but that is about the end of their similarities.  Culturally and historically, Bulgaria was never really part of the Russian Empire or the Soviet Union, although Slavic peoples were influential as was communism, it would not share a lot of similarities with Russia that might be true of another neighboring country.  Kazakhstan was ruled by Russia and later by the Soviet Union and actually has a fairly large Russian population due to some rather disgusting Soviet policies but has also maintained a strong sense of its own identity, influenced a great deal, of course, by its proximity to China.  So continuing a more "Russian" route, Kazakhstan might be a better option.  However, (we're not sure yet) it appears that Kazakhstan may be quite a bit more expensive.  Largely due to the greater travel costs since it takes a minimum of 22 hours to get there (yikes!) by plane, although if we wanted to take a train, there is apparently one from Moscow that is 82 hours.  Yikes!  The cost increase is also a result of us being required to live there for a month.  Weird.  Did you hear that?  A vein in my dad's head just popped!  Yes, Kazakhstan requires a substantial bonding period between the child and prospective adoptive parents, which is actually quite good, just a teeny bit challenging.  Although apparently they have Ikea, so, there you go.  Bulgaria is just two trips, one less than both Russia and Kazakhstan (yeah, we would have to go back, twice, after that first month which means that in under a year I would spend more time in Kazakhstan than I typically do in Lakewood!)  And the trips to Bulgaria are shorter too.  But, the odds of us getting a young child, and, anytime soon, from Bulgaria are very slim.  The adoption age for Kazakhstan is 9 months, the adoption age for Bulgaria is 2 years.  And the wait is long for Bulgaria so a majority of families bring home a child who is actually 4 or 5 years old.  Unless you go the special needs route.  The wait for Kazakhstan is shorter, very similar to Russia.

Lake in the mountains south of Almaty, Kazakhstan, where Bard wants to go hiking with the girls!

A child from Bulgaria would likely be "Roma" a term which you may not be familiar with and mostly refers to an ethnic group better known here as gypsies.  Gypsy is now quite often considered pejorative and by the way, I often hear people use the term "gypped" to describe getting short changed in a deal.  This is a racist slur against Gypsies so please do not use it anymore.  And if I adopt a Roma child, and you use it in my presence, go ahead, make my day! Anyhoo.  A child from Kazakh has about the same odds of being Russian as he does of being Kazakh.  Kazakhs most often have a Central Asian appearance, so we would have a little Mongol warrior :)  But of course it's hard for me to hold on to or let go of the idea of adopting a Russian child.  And for that reason, and maybe a few more, we seem to be leaning more toward Kazakhstan and have both researched it a lot.  Just in case you thought Bard and I were alike, let me tell you how we went about our research.  Because we both love to research, pretty much anything, we both looked at Kazakhstan's history, political make up, and geography.  And from there, we diverged.  I studied Kazakh culture- visual arts, music, literature and looked up information on travel websites about living there, pictures of what it looks like, availability of items, and transportation.  And also read blogs of families who have adopted Kazakh children.  Bard, on the other hand, read the CIA fact list and researched their stock index. He contacted former colleagues who lived in Kazakhstan for their perspective (I know, I live with him, remember?!) He also found some great hiking and if we are there in the winter, a ski resort where he is planning to teach Evelyn how to ski.  Also, because he is crazy, he is super excited about the idea of living in Kazakhstan for a month!  Goodness.

There is a quirk for both of us though, that may be something and may be nothing.  Due to some obvious reasons, there is friction between the ethnic Kazakhs and the ethnic Russians, living in Kazakhstan.  Even though the Russian language is actually spoken more than Kazakh, that is not received entirely well by the Kazakhs and they work hard to preserve their identity.  So, if we adopt a child who is ethnic Kazakh and bring him back to our home, where he will grow up surrounded by Russian knick knacks, cookbooks, art work, and music, is that odd or is it fairly similar to what he would have experienced in his birth country?  And, since our history with Russia will likely be known to Kazakh adoption officials, is that a strike against us?  With either ethnicity, we would want there to be Kazakh influence, as that is the birth country.  But, it's complicated.  And no, even with having said all that, it does not mean we have ruled out Bulgaria, we just need to look into it more.  Part of me feels an intense pressure to make this decision and go.  The other part of me knows that we need to go slow, something I don't do very well.  Pray.  Process.

Somewhere, halfway across the world is my son.  I don't know what country he is in or what he looks like.  I don't know when he was born or what language he speaks.  But I know he is mine.  Hang in there baby boy, your mama is coming and once she has you, she will never let you go.

Socked In

Saying goodbye-last picture of Russia as a taxi drove me to the airport, 7 years ago. 

It's been foggy the last few days, cold and dreary, can't see anything, the air hurts your skin. Later in the day, the sun often pierces through the fog, bringing a clear view and letting us to see a bit further out from ourselves.  But today the sun was deceiving, warm enough to burn off the fog but so cold it left ice everywhere. The ice made everything more challenging, risky, different. The sun came out, but it did not return everything to normal.

Grief is a fog. It clings to you, absorbs you, and blocks you from seeing anything around you. What's around you may be normal, but grief transforms it so that you are overwhelmed and anxious. When you are wrapped in a fog, the world has not changed, just your perspective of it and the very fact that life continues as normal, behind a screen of blurred reality, is offensive. Anyone who has gone through depression or a time of grief will tell you that going into the outside world, entering the fog, even to complete the most simple tasks, is a challenge and just staying home, warm, familiar, known, is much easier. How dare people not know my pain? Why do they smile and go on like nothing has changed?

Fog diminishes in patches. You are going along, unable to see, alone, and then you blink. Suddenly you can see everything around you and it is bright and normal. Then, you are back in the fog. You don't know how you got there or when you'll get out again. It takes time for the sun to overcome the fog and it takes time for life to overcome grief.  People may tell you that you will be able to see clearly again. And they are right. And you know that, but you are immersed in grayness and can't see right now. And that's okay.

They say that prayer is powerful; it either changes your circumstances or it changes you. Which is true, just not always very comforting. When the sun came out today and burned off the fog, I could see everything. I just did not like what I saw.