Growing Family

Friday Musings

I'm sitting down at the keyboard, with no plan of what to write...let's see what comes out of the keys.

It's been a very busy week or two. We've done stuff/seen people ten days out of the last eleven. That's some kind of world record for my home-body self.

Today, hanging out with a newish friend that I've spent quite a bit of time with, considering the length of time we've known each other, she was asking more about my background and how I grew up. She asked me again, as she has before, "how did you become who you are now, from the way you grew up?" She can't quite put together how my history leads into my present. And honestly, when she puts it that way, I feel a bit confused myself.

I am reluctant to talk too much about my childhood on this blog. I don't want to be cast as the poster child for an experience that other people could label with the heavy adjectives of "fundamentalist, conservative, home-schooled", as the connotation of those buzzword doesn't fit who I am at all. Today my friend asked me "did you churn your own butter?" Yes, once, for fun. It WAS fun. We put milk in a glass jar and took turns shaking it for FOREVER until we finally got it to thicken into cream, then butter. "Did you have a pony?" Yes, and a horse. "Did you read a lot, way out there, by yourself?" My whole family has always consumed massive amounts of reading material.

It was a bit of a rough transition from that world into the one I live in now. No one from my family (my parents included), live the way we lived while my siblings and I were growing up. There were ways that my childhood experience seemed lacking, and yet I feel so enriched by the experience as well.

Homeschooling gave me the opportunity to do so much. I got to explore interests to such a deep level. Nature walks, art projects, imaginative play, and reading, reading, reading. I found book work to be a bit tedious, but the life we led, out in the country, was a canvas for our childhood imaginations. We lived in a safe world there, where we could walk for hours in the woods, play down at the old mill catching crawdads and cooking them over a fire we built at the river's edge, playing house in an empty log cabin on our property...then, at a later house, finding a coyote's den with two cubs, exploring acres of pasture, sleeping in a tobacco barn under the sweet smelling leaves, sleeping on the trampoline, waking up cold and covered in dew. We were city folk, transplanted to the country, delirious with the fresh air and the freedom.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my own children and how to draw a bridge between the dreams in my head, and the choices I make in real life. In my head I see a kind of Pippy-Long-stocking meets Anne of Green Gables (and other fantastic L.M. Montgomery characters) meets The Chronicles of Narnia, childhood for my children. A cornerstone of that dream is a large, interesting house with nooks and crannies, and unexpected windows. Then, the house must be full of children, either permanent family members or those seeking temporary solace in a warm, happy home. Our table must always have space for the traveler, and under our eaves we should always be able to fit in one more sleeper. Then there's pets - they should be many.

I want a boisterous, happy, tangled life, full of joys and tears and whole-hearted living. I want "scope for the imagination" (Montgomery, again) in our living. While I don't plan to home-school my own children, I want to achieve the same opportunities for creativity and experimentation that I had.

How do I do that in the city (or country), as part of a school system, and a neighborhood, or a community? I experienced it within my family, wild and free, living following our fancy, out in the country, unfettered by any social system. Can I achieve that within the context that I am choosing to raise my own family?

Hm. Don't know. Must try.

On the whole topic of children, for anyone still interested in the process of expatriate adoption, good news for ex-pats! American citizens living abroad can now pursue domestic infant adoption, regardless of their "domicile" or "habitant resident" status. Unfortunately, that doesn't change things for us, as the wall erected between us and adoption is standing on the Australian immigration side of the issue, but it is a big hurdle overcome for other families.

My parents come in, count 'em, 9 days. SO EXCITED. We're going to take a road trip to Nelson's Bay to stay in a cabin in the woods, near the beach. The park is part of a nature preserve that harbors Koalas, amongst other things. How cool is that?

We've felt the mornings getting warmer. Although the setting is different, I can instinctively feel, in the change of the light and the temperature, that spring will be coming soon. I wonder what it will be like?

Lots on my mind. Lots of brooding. Sighs. Questions. Reading. Dreaming at night, before I fall asleep, and then some more before I wake. I'm dreaming of birth and labor, stretching and beginnings.

What will our lives be like?

The Adoption Story, As Told By Immigration Attorney "K"

Last night I lay in bed and shivered: within 24 hours I could be bolting past the green flag and scheduling a home study. This morning I felt so stressed. I sat with uneasy stomach, trying to eat breakfast, overcome by apprehensive emotions. I almost didn't want to keep my appointment with the attorney. When they phoned to confirm my appointment for the afternoon, I secretly hoped they were calling to cancel on me.

Well, I couldn't have asked for a more helpful professional to deliver the bad news. Here is the breakdown: the only way we can qualify for an adoption visa (and no other visa would be extended to a child joining the family through adoption) is through an "Intercountry Adoption". This means that we would need to move overseas for a minimum of twelve months. We would pursue, complete, and finalize the adoption before applying for an adoption visa. Moving overseas for the sole purpose of adopting is not permitted. An adoption can only take place within the context of an otherwise justified move.

So, job relocation - ok. Pursuing further studies - ok. Returning to the States for important (document-able) family needs (death of a loved one and handling of an estate, working out a will, etc) - ok. The move has to be thorough enough to hold up under scrutiny. It is thought that if we wanted to adopt from an international country (like Ethiopia), we would still spend the time living in the U.S., as we would be applying for an Australian visa after the child gains U.S. citizenship.

This puts me in a tough position. On one hand, technically we could do it. We would have to find a place to live, and furnish it. We would have to buy lots of airline tickets. The Captain would have to find a new job, after just starting this one, or request a transfer to one of the regional offices, again, after having just started.

It is hard to know that we could make it happen, and choose not to. I really want this adoption to happen. I've got this place growing in my heart to nurture a special child. Does that desire justify putting ourselves and our children through a potentially very difficult year (or two), when we've just moved them here?

And what about pregnancy? I'm just opening my heart up on that one, trying to find some guidance.

One of my biggest fears in this whole thing is that we won't get to adopt again, or that it will be really far down the road. I know that having another sibling of color can be a very important factor for transracially adopted children. We never intended to raise Small Sun without siblings who shared that experience with him. I am afraid that if we have more biological children, Small Sun will be isolated as a person of color in our family, and as an adoptee.

How hard to you press to make your dreams happen? I struggle between feeling compelled to fight for what I am passionate about, even if it means significant personal sacrifice, and accepting the fact that no doors are opening for us here, right now, and the cost to our family would be extreme. When do you resign yourself to the closed door, and when do you break it down with your shoulder?

To be really honest, there are no open doors here, leading us to a next step. The only agencies saying they can work with us are sketchy, at best. There is a great international social worker who has helped us a lot, but if we went back to the U.S. for this, he wouldn't be helping us anyway. Basically I've spent several intense weeks of searching and have no viable options to show for it.

So...so...yeah. I feel sad. I don't know what to do.

More Centered, Finding Calm

I feel badly for spilling my emotions all over the place, here. I know that you all probably want to hear all the confirmations that this was a good choice, to come here, and all the adventures we're having. These is plenty of that going on, as well!

A friend here lent me a "cultural training" curriculum for expatriates moving to Australia. In the section discussing culture shock it describes the effect of culture shock on the body, saying that when everything in your environment is new and you are processing new information, constantly, every day, it physically exhausts the body. From sending a letter to attending a party, everything is just different enough that you can never completely rely on your previous experience. It is tiring, and I felt comforted to know that I am experiencing a very normal part of a move of this scale. Also, that it will pass, and things will require less effort in the future.

In our service on Sunday the teacher spoke about finding the quiet place, where we hear truth, feel peace, and find bravery to walk in strength through our days. Hearing that was so restorative to my peace. Also on Sunday, a friend here who is growing more dear by the minute, called to ask us out to afternoon tea. We bundled up in our scarves and coats (so glad they finally arrived!) and met them at a nearby bakery/cafe for a hot drink before we turned the kids out of doors to play at the park. My new friend shared her vulnerability and fears with me, and I am so thankful for a friend that is going below the surface. The mens got along well too, and are meeting for lunch as they work close to each other, in the financial district, downtown.

My continued exploration into expatriate adoption is a big contributer to my stress levels! After getting close to nowhere talking to agencies, I set up an appointment with an Australian immigration lawyer for next week, spoke to the Consulate here in Sydney, and spoke to someone at USCIS (U.S. Citizen and Immigration Services). It's a bit of a game of hot potato, everyone says that what I am inquiring about isn't under their jurisdiction and hands me off to someone else, who in turn hands me to someone else! Each immigration authority points at the other, saying "it's their issue, you'll have to take it up with them!" No wonder the agencies don't have a clue.

So hopefully, after seeking legal council and hearing back from the detailed inquiry I submitted to the Consulate, I'll have a clearer picture. May I just say, I can't believe how much time and effort (and stress!) I have put into this process, before even submitting an application! It's hard to imagine having the energy to follow through an adoption process, which may involve preparing a dossier (gathering documents from abroad), coordinating the legal systems of three governments, and time spent in the U.S. Not to mention the emotional experience of adoption.

On Saturday, on the park bench, I was asking God "do I keep pushing on this, or do I let it go?" I was miffed when He said "both". I saw a pictures of pushing on the wind, like I do with my arm out of the car window. I saw that when you open your hands and let go, that doesn't mean that the surface you are pushing disappears. Sometimes it moves and you just keep pushing, open-handed.

Lately, a lot of my guidance from God has been puzzling. So I'm puzzling over it, waiting for the clarity to develop.

When people ask me why we've moved here, I sometimes feel foolish trying to explain what we want out of this transition. But foolish or not, I think we heard right. I think we're in the right place. And who was it that said, "sometimes you have a tough year and then a good future". We feel like this might be a tough year. However, even at the low points so far, it has been incredibly grace-filled.

So, here's to open hands, pushing on who knows what and stepping out, into the invisible. May the housing market and the immigration and adoption authorities smile on me!

Number 3, Where are You?

I am still heavy on the search for answers about adopting as an Expat. My understanding went from "NO", to "maybe" and now it is leaning back towards "no" again. I still have a few outstanding emails that I hope will make all the difference. I get waves of hope and send out flurries of emails.

Right now I think I'm coming to the end of the line. The big guns. The Hague Convention seems to be intent on squeezing me out of the pool of prospective adoptive parents. So now I'm waiting on an answer from the top dogs. "Do we fall within the acceptable guidelines?" Whose idea was it to want to start the adoption process, as an expat, a mere matter of weeks after the U.S. implemented the Convention Guideline's, anyway?

So, right now the path is forked in front of me. Once again there are two choices: adopt, and give birth. I know that the fact that I have giving birth as a presumable choice is part of my privilege of health. Also, that I am already hugely blessed with two! I don't want to take that lightly. There are, however, a couple issues on my mind.

First of all, I am ready to start to draw a third child into our warm circle. It happens in twinges, and warm moments here and there. It happens in me tucking adorable baby things into the bottom of the drawer under my children's clothes. It happens in me thinking about my double stroller in the container, and how three children can actually fit on it nicely.

This desire hasn't bloomed into full-blown readiness yet, but I am ready to start the process one way or the other. However, I can feel the over-ripe longing not far around the bend.

I don't think The Captain is feeling as ready as I am.

Also, I had always imagined that the next child would come via adoption. I was late last month (you know), and I found myself torn between sadness and disappointment over a potential missed adoption, and excitement at the possibility of being pregnant. There isn't an absence of discussion, in the adoption world, about overcoming the issues that surround adoption being a second choice, when it comes to building a family. I haven't heard many people talk about the sadness of birthing being a second choice, after letting an adoption dream go, be it temporarily or permanently. With Small Sun, I wanted to adopt first. I was thrilled to be pregnant second. I'm trying to sort out my feelings on our next child scenario.

Lastly, the thing that my friends promised has come true: my memories of The Sprout's time in my womb, and her exit from it, have begun to glow and shimmer. Sure, sometimes I can still physically feel in my body, the 23 weeks of daily vomiting, and the dramatic birth that left me in bed for weeks, and took a year to heal from. But instead of those being THE memories of my pregnancy and birth, they are becoming SOME of my memories. I am having fuzzy feelings as well. I don't remember much of her first year, what with having two under two and all, but now that the edge of exhaustion has worn off, I'm starting to daydream again.

So, there's a lot on my mind. Unfortunately, the U.S. business day is starting right when I'm trying to fall asleep around 11 pm. After staying too long on the Internet, and watching too much t.v., I get emails from adoption agencies, closing more doors. Then I try to go to sleep, but instead, lie there trying to find a way through the Hague Convention maze that stands before me.

It would be much "easier" to get pregnant instead. (So insensitive to those who can't, I know!) But first I'd have to let go of the adoption dream, for now, and fully move on to embrace a pregnancy. And even then, I don't know if we'd get pregnant. So far, our Maker has seemed to lay a clear indication of when we're supposed to get pregnant, and when we're not.* Oh, and then I'd have to talk the Captain into it. :)

*We tried to get pregnant for a year, using ovulation charts, temperature taking, etc, before adopting Small Sun. I  had a pregnancy that ended in miscarriage. After a year we started the adoption process. Five months later, Small Sun was home. Then, when we decided to try for a sibling, I got pregnant the first go. So, I really don't know what to think regarding my fertility, except that I am so thankful we have Small Sun in our lives. Two weeks one way or another, in our lives or his mother's life, and we would have missed each other entirely.

A Quick Shout

A quick request: if you have an adoption agency that you feel is exemplary, or that you are pleased with, please email me the agency name.

I am casting a larger, and larger net in order to find an agency that might work with us abroad. The more I find out, the more I think it might work, if we just find an agency that will participate in such a bureaucratic nightmare!

Thanks!