It Takes a Village

Two weeks ago when the hassle with USCIS started (immigration-ours), every time I tried to text "USCIS" my phone hated me and would correct it to USC or other such nonsense.  Within three days it had adapted and now if I type "U" it brings USCIS right up!

Why?

Community.

Adoption is a funny thing. After having two biological children and being in the adoption process for over a year now, I can definitely say adoption is the harder of the two-at least for us.  It's more expensive, more draining, more time, and more work.  And, it's more isolating.  But that's one of the funny things.  It may be more isolating with the people who are actually in your daily life, but it's the opposite with the people across the state, country, and even world.

You see, nearly every day of being pregnant, someone asks you about it.  How far along are you? How are you feeling? Boy or girl? Names?  They want to touch your belly, tell you about their pregnancies, their kids, their labor stories.  Basically, share the experience with you.  Ironically, this is something that often drives pregnant women crazy!  Probably because the questions come constantly and not just from good friends but from random cashiers at Target.

Adoption is the opposite.  Some of my most surreal moments have been when the cashier at Target (yes, I shop at Target a lot, I was there twice this week, why do you ask?) asks me how I'm doing and what I want to say is I'm absolutely drowning, just want to curl up and cry, I can't face one more delay, one more unknown, one more moment of living across the world from a tiny piece of my heart who just happened to be born in another country.  But what I do say is, "Fine, thanks." Because in pregnancy everyone can see your baby growing on the outside but with adoption no one can see your heart growing inside of you.

So, you reach out.  I read blogs about Ukrainian adoptions the way I used to read Teen Magazine.  Well, that was a long, long. . .long, time ago! I scour forums and join facebook groups.  In fact, one of the first things I love doing in the morning is reading my facebook feeds for the several Ukrainian groups I'm a part of-it just makes me happy to see how everyone is doing.  Yes, maybe that makes me lame. However, I did just admit to reading Teen Magazine so I'm not sure what you expect from me!

The not-so-crazy thing is that it works.  See, I think about our adoption every minute. Every. Waking. Minute.  Ever play Seven Degrees of Kevin Bacon?  Try one degree of adoption!  Ask me anything.  Did I hear that dog barking?  Hmm, I've heard there are a lot of stray dogs in Ukraine, I wonder if that will be an issue for us.  Did I reorder Cecilia's medicine?  Hmm, I should make a list of medicines we need to take with us when we travel.  Did the mail come?  Oh, THAT is a loaded question! So while when I was pregnant, I probably did get a bit impatient with the barrage of questions, now I crave them.  Go ahead, ask me how many times I checked FedEx tracking to see if they had overnighted our clearance letter.  No really. I dare you!

But it is few and far between that I get asked about our adoption.  It is mostly by close friends, who know I have become psychotic and think it's kind of sweet, a few random people who make my whole day light up when they ask how things are going, and then the largest group of people-the ones I've never actually met, but who are now oh so dear to me.

Friends in the South, friends in Canada, friends in California, friends in Iowa.  Friends who live in places I can't find on a map (sorry Mid West, you know I love you!)   Adoption is very isolating.  Adoption is also community building.  Maybe I didn't want to hear everyone's labor stories, but I want to know everything about your adoption journey!  Where did you eat?  What was your mattress like?  What did people wear? How did you pass the time?    You might think I made those questions up, but I have read them, not in just one blog, but over and over and over again.  We're all like little adoption sponges, soaking up as much information as possible.  Much of the information that we want to know will be forever out of our grasp.  The rest of it seems to be someone's cruel interpretation of on a need to know basis.  If you think you know a detail, it changes.  If you want to know a timeframe, you can't.  Anything you would like to be in control of? Nope, sorry! So instead, please tell me about the lunch cart you found near the SDA's office where you ate before your appointment. And I will love it.  And I will look for that lunch cart.  And I will experience your journey with you.

Community.

Towards the end of my pregnancy with Evelyn, I began to feel very isolated.  That feeling continued throughout most of her first year.  Bard and I knew we needed to share life with close friends and we made a few small changes that impacted our family in some pretty big ways. Friendships were built and those friends have carried us through two pregnancies, a miscarriage, a job change, two career changes, health scares, and much, much more.  Life. In many ways, we are here because of those friends.  And I know they will continue to lift us up through this adoption process and beyond.  Looking back, I can see very clearly why I went through that loneliness and how the timeline led so perfectly to the relationships we have now.

Looking back on this past year, I can't see very clearly yet.  But unique friendships have formed and had we not chosen Kazakhstan first or switched to Ukraine when we did, our adoption community would not be the same.  I now share life with people all over the country who have faced the same decisions we did, walked through the same delays, suffered the same heartache, grabbed on to the same hope, and watched their hearts grow, outside of their own country, across the world.  With their community.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross,scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

Hebrews 12:1-3

The Best Worst Mother's Day Ever

I like to make my muscles angry.  When I get a massage, which is every few months because I have the back of a 90 year old, I almost always have a knot the size of a baseball behind my right shoulder blade and at the base of my neck  All I really want is for the massage therapist to pound on that muscle and release the pressure.  

But they never do!  

They always start with stretching the muscle, rolling, moderate pressure across the whole area.  They get all the muscles loose and relaxed and then dig in.  But it's still push and release.  It hurts, but then, ahhhh.  Each time they may go a little deeper, release a little more of the tension that has built up (we call that knot "international adoption") and then push again.  Often I'm even told that I need to take it easy the rest of the day because the muscles needed so much attention that now they are a bit inflamed. But I don't care, I still want more.  I want that pain, I want that pressure, because I know that at the end of it the release is so amazing and so worth it.

It's really too bad I'm not like that in any other area of my life!

“The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was jut the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off.  You know — if you’ve ever picked the scab of a sore place.  It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.” ~CS Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawntreader

I talked to immigration on Friday-our immigration-twice.  The first time they told me we had been cleared for Ukrainian adoption and could submit our dossier!  Yay!  The timing would work!  Something actually went our way! Happy Happy Happy all morning!  The second time they told me they had made a mistake, we weren't cleared, they needed more information, they weren't sure how long it would take. No! Crash, confusion, depression. Back to the unknown, back to nothing ever working out for us.

I thought the pain was gone, the pressure released.  But instead, He went deeper. Why?  I don't know.  But for some reason, this time, I feel a little better.  Whenever we find out a little bit of information, I want to know all the details, plan what's next, create a timeline, detailsdetailsdetails! And then something goes wrong and not only am I devastated but I have this nagging fear in the back of my heart that it will never go right. For some reason we are not meant to adopt a child and never will.  

But I fear you aren't listening, because there are no words.

Just the stillness, and the hunger, for the faith that assures.

But God.

A father to the fatherless, 

a defender of widows. . .

God sets the lonely in families

Psalm 68

But God gave me this dream.  And He will see it through.  

"The lady made a mistake.  But God doesn't."

I was told (reminded) of this truth by a friend (yeah, you know who you are!)  who also said God knew my son and that he was there.  I need to set aside the lie that this dream will never come to fruition. I can trust in a love that knows no bounds, is unhindered by hindering bureaucracy, and knows all details, seen and unseen. 

I will sing of your Mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy.

So, some of the tension is eased.  At the end of every massage, every therapist I've ever had cradles my head and pulls, ever so slightly.  I swear, I can feel myself getting taller!  It's so relaxing, so peaceful.  And only made possible by the previous painful pummeling of my poor muscles.  Hopefully for this stage, there is just a little more pressure and then more release. We should know Monday or Tuesday how much of a delay this has caused us. Ideally we will still be able to submit our dossier to Ukraine on May 22nd and plan to travel in July. I really hope that my next blog is the pure joy of knowing that our file is being reviewed by the Ukrainian government!  We're in this for the long haul, the hills and valleys, the ups and downs.  Pain, release.

Joy is not the absence of suffering, it is the presence of God.~Robert Schuller

Small But Feisty

Why yes, I bought my own shirt and still have it!

Years ago my parents took us to Disney World, as adults, which is way more fun.  I was walking along, behind my brother and sister in law, when their heads swiveled in the direction of t-shirt wearing teenager. They looked at me and I looked at them and we all had the same thought, "Kristin must have that shirt."

I may have developed somewhat of a reputation over the years :)

One of the strange things about having children-and there are many- is that you learn more about yourself through growing up with them.  The good, the bad, and the feisty!  Bard and I learned early on that Cici was a "feeler."  She simply feels things more, longer, stronger, than other kids around her.  And don't you dare try to distract her from what she is feeling or she will throw that cupcake in your face.  No, really.  Her passions run deep, whether they are the constant demand to be called "Princess Cat", or the forbidden uttering of any number other than "3 for Cici!" (Don't try to state the time unless it includes the number three!) Evelyn may be a force, but she is mellow.  One would not describe my second child as mellow!

Right now, probably due to the fact that she is three years old, her passion is mostly directed at herself and bringing an adorable yet deadly interpretation to Frank Sinatra's classic. . .

Yes there were times, I'm sure you knew

When I bit off more, than I could chew.

But through it all, when there was doubt

I ate it up and spit it out.

I faced it all and I stood tall,

And did it my way

Evelyn loves people and will thrive on leadership in many ways.  But sometimes she can love people a little too much, and that is going to be a thorn for her as she grows older and is confronted with more complicated choices than what to do at recess, play "Frozen" or swing by herself.  Cici will lead, and hopefully others will follow, but she'll need to remember to look back and see if they're still with her!  She won't care nearly as much what others think and her passion will call people to her while also driving them away.  It can be lonely.

For what is man, what has he got?

If not himself, then he has naught.

To say the things he truly feels;

And not the words of one who kneels.

The record shows I took the blows-

And did it my way!

My hope is that she remembers her humor along the way.  For Cici, tears of anger come quickly, but shrieks of laughter can follow soon after.  And with laughter, grace sneaks in.  Grace for herself and grace for others. Bard and I strive to live a life that is outside ourselves.  We would not be here without the countless people who poured into our lives.  So it's our turn and I want more than anything for my children to live in the world. Surrounded by darkness but sharing the light.

Cici will often pray, "Dear Jesus, thank you for getting my baby brother.  Please get him RIGHT NOW!" And her voice may sound like a chirpy little bird but the attitude and strength behind it is more like a roaring lion!  She is not quick to jump in but will often observe her surroundings before tentatively dipping a toe in to test the water. You may know her for weeks before knowing that she can talk sentences around most other three year olds, has learned her letters and the sounds they make, and is trying to start reading and writing (she will sit forever, focused on carefully writing out "Cici.")  She will dance more, snuggle longer, and fight faster than her older sister. But to discover all the little facets of her personality you're going to have to observe her more than she is observing you. 

Which makes me wonder, what kind of big sister will she be?  Evelyn will mother the child, get bored, come back, care for him, help him-do things for him-and run off again.  But I might be able to learn about this little boy from watching what Cici learns about him.  She thinks we should name him "Harry" and that he'll have brown eyes like her.  She wants to give him his own "Silkie Bear"-her most prized possession and said she'll teach him to talk.  A little while ago when a plane flew over our house, she asked if it was the plane going to get her brother. And very few days go by without her asking, no demanding, when we can get on a plane and go get him, "I want to go get my baby bwudder RIGHT NOW!"

So do I baby girl, and he is very lucky to have such a wonderful older sister protecting him. She may look like a little fairy but she is feisty on the inside and will fight for him because he is family. Our family.