Second best?

I have noticed in preparing to adopt, my perceptions of things have altered drastically. For example, I realized the other day I no longer wonder what it would be like to be pregnant. It seems very foreign and even outlandish to me now. What? You mean being interrogated by a social worker, filling out mountains of paperwork, and rushing to the mailbox every day to see if USCIS has doled out your biometrics appointment yet isn’t how babies are brought into your family? That’s crazy talk! That is how my baby is arriving!

I read a story the other day about a couple who had to put their adoption plans on hold because they had unexpectedly become pregnant. Due to age spacing, any good agency (in my opinion) will tell you you need to postpone your adoption plans at such an event, until there are adequate years between the kiddos. In fact, if you are planning on international, most countries have laws restricting how close in age your children can be. My heart absolutely broke for her, and I was shocked at how strong my reaction to this story was. She (and I for her) were of course happy for her pregnancy, but no one understood her mourning for their could-have-been adopted child. After thinking about it for quite awhile, I think this is the reason I become so upset about it: By not letting her mourn for the loss of her to-be-adopted child, is to say that the adopted child was ‘second best’ to a biological child. Why mourn when you are getting the ‘real thing!’ is what it says to me, whether that was intentional or not.

This horror of the idea of my child being thought of as second best to a biological child chills me straight to the bone. Although I readily admit adoption was not our first thought when Brad and I decided we wanted children, it is by no means our ‘second choice’. Infertility factors may have helped open our eyes to this process, but it did not decide it for us.

Author Unknown

Once there were two women who never knew each other.

One you do not remember, the other you call Mother.

Two different lives shaped to make you one.

One became your guiding star, the other became your sun.

The first one gave you life, and the second taught you to love it.

The first gave you a need for love. The second was there to give it.

One gave you a nationality. The other gave you a name.

One gave you a talent. The other gave you aim.

One gave you emotions. The other calmed your fears.

One saw your first sweet smile. The other dried your tears.

One sought for you a home that she could not provide.
The other prayed for a child and her hope was not denied.

And now you ask me, through your tears,

the age-old question unanswered through the years.

Heredity or environment, which are you a product of?

Neither, my darling. Neither. Just two different kinds of Love.

© Author Unknown

World Class

Okay, a day has passed, I've cooled down and gained some perspective, and have re-read my last post. Sounded kinda' like a world class uber-bitch, there. I apologize.
I know out of the adoption triad of my child, my child's birth parents, and me, I'm definitely getting the best deal. I'm the one who is gaining the most, and I am the one that has the most control. I don't often fall into the 'self-pity' thing like the last post, and I'll try not to do it again.

Was just angry, thats all.
My apologies. And apologies to the hungry children of Ecuador, too.
Beth.

Just That Simple

For our dossier which will be sent to the Embassy in Ethiopia, we have to gather a number of notarized letters from various entities stating we are fit to parent. Places such as the local police department, our physician, our employer, two of our friends, and our bank, to name a few. Looking at that list, I automatically cringed at the letter from the doctor’s office… I thought this was going to be impossible to get! Nope. They were speedy, kind, and accommodating. Police Department, now, this one is going to suck! Nope. Even their information desk is open 24 hours a day 7 days a week, and they do adoption checks for free. Whew. No problem. Never in a million years did I suspect the one letter that would give me so much grief and frustration would be the teeny-tiny, simple, one sentence letter from the bank. Honestly. They even have notaries right there in the bank, I thought, this is going to be a slam dunk! Oh, was I so so wrong.

On the first trip to the bank (which I will not name, and if you know me you will know why I obviously can’t), I was told the only letter they could draft was from a template, and that would have our account numbers and balances on it. I said three times, no, it cannot have my account numbers or balances, please just write one little-itty-bitty sentence, that my husband and I are indeed clients of (name of bank) and how long we have been so. And, if you can legally, say we are in good standing. You think I was asking for a key to the damn vault. Incredible. And, if that was not enough, in between being refused the woman barraged me with completely inappropriate questions.

Her: Why are you adopting?
Me: Because that is how we’ve decided to grow our family.
What I wanted to say: Who is the last pregnant woman you’ve asked why they’ve decided to give birth?

Her: Why are you going to Ethiopia?
Me: It was a very long decision, but the best fit for my family.
What I wanted to say: Are you actually interested in why I chose Ethiopia, or are you just in disbelief that I chose Ethiopia?

Her: You don’t have to actually GO there, do you? (Ahhh… my question was answered. She was in disbelief in the last question)
Me: I look forward to going to my child’s country of birth.
What I wanted to say: Shut up.

Her: There are hungry children in Ecuador, you know.
Me: (under my breath) You have got to be *beeping* kidding me.
What I wanted to say: You have got to be *beeping* kidding me.
I don’t know if she just has a real affinity for Ecuador (she may have been from there?) or just a real dislike for Ethiopia, but this statement sent me over the edge. Seriously, I am not the UN. Do I feel for the hungry children everywhere? Yes, absolutely. Like anyone, it hurts me to think how we have so, so much, while others have so little. I too cry when the ‘two-dollars-a-day-starving-children’ commercials come on. Should I feel -or- do I owe more to the hungry children of the world, because I am adopting? No. I honestly do not believe this woman would have given me the same guilt trip if I had been sitting across her desk as a pregnant woman. Why are you giving birth? There are hungry children in Ecuador! I sincerely doubt it.
To top it off, she tried very very hard to get me to sign up for a credit card, even though I am sure she could tell how miffed I was.

I left the branch frustrated, hurt, and annoyed, with a ridiculous letter that had our account numbers and balances on it, which I promptly ripped up and threw away.

After gaining my composure, I resigned to the fact I needed to try again, but I wasn’t going back to the same branch. Part of me wanted to go back and complain to the manager, most of me just wants to get this paperwork behind me. So, with detailed instructions from CHSFS in hand this time, I went to a new branch, and I was on a mission. I was not leaving which ever personal banker’s desk I was directed to without this letter, and without it being done correct. After a whole lot of hyming and hawing on behalf of the banker, I do have my letter, even though (my mistake) it is notarized wrong. *sigh* Such is life, I guess.

Moral of the story: Please don’t tell adoptive parents there are hungry children in (country name here). We are well aware of it. And, in my opinion, if the parent is worth their weight, they will admit to you they are not adopting to ‘save’ a child, but to be parents. We need a child, a child needs a family. It is that simple.

If Only We Could All Be Finnish

Ran across this story today.

Finland - #1st
U.S. - #23rd
Ethiopia - 141st. Dead last.

Click HERE for article.

Good News All Around

I haven't posted for awhile, because this is what I've been doing for the last four days...

Good friends, great times, although I will never look at the fuzzy yarn poofs on top of stocking caps in the same way again. They've been tainted. Michigan is beautiful but cold. Its only September!

We came home Sunday night, and our Social Worker was due at our house Monday morning 08:30am for our in-home visit. Though I relentlessly cleaned the house for a week before today's visit, she never left the main floor. Walked to the stairs, looked up the stairs, looked down the stairs, gave us some child-proofing tips (none of which involved Miss Miller specifically... curious) and gave us the big thumbs up. So, starting today, are officially on the 'waiting list'. Whew! This is something to celebrate!

I was thinking we had the bulk of our pre-adoption work done (it is after the child is at home the work really begins, right?), until I received the thirty-one page PDF doc from the Ethiopia Specialist detailing what documents we need to gather for this round. Ugg. I'll wait until tomorrow to worry about that, right now I am just content to know we've passed. Besides, why use your own paper when there is perfectly good paper sitting at work to print your thirty-one pages? Shh... don't tell. That is what they get for 'no-paid-time-off-for-adoption'. I'll nickel and dime them to death, perhaps?

In other news, I came home to a delightful suprise on my back doorstep - Miss Miller had company. Seems a few friends have come to live at the house to keep him company, though I understand they need to be stored in the shed during the long winter months. To hibernate, perhaps?

They are a welcomed addition to the Meyers' clan, thank you Grandma!

And lastly, to top off all the good news for the day, we (finally) sold the honda motorcycle. Craig's List does work! I think Brad was sad to see it go, evidenced by the fact that he drove it all the way to Stillwater for the guy with me following behind (just couldn't part without that one last farewell ride...), but I am glad. Besides, you can really only ride one motorcycle at a time, anyway.

Twice the Size

Ran across a funny story today... Alas, I have fears that will be me in Ethiopia. So fat!
(By the way, the adoption agency they talk about in the article is not the one we are using).
Click here for story.