Thursday, March 31, 2011

How can it POSSIBLY take 13 hours to get from Munich to Addis??

I'm going to Germany for business this weekend, and I'll be there for 10 days. So I'm thinking to myself  "I'll fly to Addis next weekend and see our baby!" (I mean, how far can it be...a 5-6 hour flight, just over the Mediterranean sea, right?) NO! The shortest flight route including layovers, is 12 hours and 45 minutes!! That seems SO unfair! I mean, I'll be half way to my baby, but I'm still 13 hours (not including drive to airport, etc) away! This bums me out.

So a few of you asked the details on THE CALL. Here it is. (I will never, for as long as I live, forget it - biggest surprise of my life.)

It was a little more than a week ago. I was in my office working on goals with one of my employees, Lisa. (Who, it just so happens, I was with when I found out Nepal had shut down.) My cell phone rang. Since I can't focus on one thing at a time, I look down at my phone. I should be focusing on Lisa and goals! But I notice that the area code is 503 - where our agency is. (Our agency has a policy that once your paperwork is accepted in Ethiopia they won't call you until THE CALL so you don't have to see the caller ID and wonder.) So in a quarter of a second I think "Hmmm... that's agency area code, I should be focusing on Lisa's goals, it must be a sales call or vendor call, but wait - that actually looks like the agency phone number, not just the area code, but why would they be calling me? This is weird. I think I'll just check real quick". Seriously - a quarter of a second - maybe a half, to process all of that. I look at Lisa and say: "This might be the agency, I think I should take it." She nods, I'm sure just a tiny bit frustrated with my inability to focus.

 **Keep in mind we're not expecting THE CALL until late summer, if ever (see last 24 posts...) I didn't think we'd get THE CALL, so was moving on with my "Career Girl" plans.

Back to the story - so I say "Hi, this is Anne."And our agency rep said "Hi Anne, this is Julie", (Instantly, by the tone of her voice, I knew) "we need to get Terry on the phone." I started crying (hard). I looked at Lisa, Lisa somehow knows already and is crying. I said, through hyper-ventilating sobs: "Are (sob) you calling (sob) to tell me we (sob) have a referral?" And she said "I am!" I start crying harder, Lisa does too. Julie disconnects me to get Terry on the phone. Lisa steps out.

I put my head on my desk and cry a loud, ugly cry, hoping no one outside of my office can hear/see me. Both Julie and I are trying to get a hold of Terry, who I finally get on the phone (within 3-4 minutes which felt like 15 minutes) and blurt out: "We (sob) have (sob) a (sob) referral!" He's like "Whaat??" I repeat myself "We (sob) have (sob) a (sob) referral, CALL JULIE!! Call me back!" (Because there is NO WAY I can dial the phone right now.) He says "Oh shit!" and hangs up. I wait for what seems like eons and we're finally all on the phone. She says "What do you want to know?" And I said "Everything!" And then we learned we have a beautiful son. Terry remained on the call, I hung up after hearing name/age/sex (who hangs up on their referral call??) I had to get home. I couldn't remember my boss's name to call him and tell him I had to leave. I went and hugged Lisa, who know has the important place in our history as being the second person in the world to find out we had a baby, even before Terry. (LIsa, I am so glad it was you in my office!) And I left the office still in a very ugly cry, I mean a sobbing, primal cry (thank God I somehow slipped past everyone!) to go home to my husband, my dog and my baby son.

It was awesome. I tear up every time I tell the story. I know. Lots of crying mentioned here. That's just how it was.

Oh. How. Wonderful. To. Get. THE CALL. 

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

O M G ! ! ! ! ! ! !


Yes, we got THE CALL. The call I have been fantasizing about for more than two years. The call I wondered where I'd be when it came, the call I wondered how I'd feel when it came, the call I wondered with whom I'd be with when it came. The call that held the answers I was dying to know. The call I never knew for sure if I'd get...the call to tell us that we have a referral. The call to tell me that I'm a mommy.

He's not quite a year old. He's perfect. He's gorgeous. I'm falling more in love every day. 

Thank you for your prayers, your thoughts, your wishes, your good energy, your meditations. I am once again humbled by the kindness and generosity of people. While I'm spiritual by nature, I'm not an overly-religious person. But today I can say, with total and absolute certainty: "God has heard."

Now, to get this precious pebble home so he can become a Stone. Everything has changed. Every. Little. Thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Know that we cannot share his name, photo, age, or any identifying information. If you are family member or close friend, please be careful not to post any of the aforementioned information in comments here or in any other forum.)

And finally, while I am overflowing with joy and happiness, I have compassion for those who are still waiting, or who have waited longer, or been through country closures. Those who have circumstances and a journey different that ours. I reserve a space in my heart to hold you. Know that I know a pain similar to yours. And I hope your day is soon.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Now for something completely different. (Because I have, literally, nothing else to say about adoption).

I've been in Colorado since 1995. I love it here. We're only in the foothills - we're not true mountain-folk. We're kinda "wannabe" mountain folk. Or I am - I'll speak for myself. I think I'd really love to move to Bozeman, MT. Or someplace even more mountain. With less pollen, preferably.

So three years ago it was a rattlesnake ready to strike. Two years ago I had three separate bear sightings. Last year we saw two bull moose. This year it was a mountain lion and two cubs (and some of their hunting aftermath). Oh - and a herd of wild turkeys. And that's just the short list.

Now we've got a wildfire burning 2 miles from our house. We're safe - it would take really extraordinary events for us to be evacuated - but I am getting prepared anyway. That's just how I roll. I documented my shoe shelves first thing this morning (One must take nothing for granted!) and have started our fire/flood emergency list. Oh, and I've already called the animal shelter to see if they need anything (not yet), photographed the fire from the adjacent mountain, and twittered the mayor and the city to see if they need volunteers (no respone yet).

I think my next job is in crisis or emergency management. Maybe working for FEMA. (My husband calls me rescue ranger.) I'm not kidding. Or wildlife management. Yeah.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Hi, nice to meet you. I'm from Missouri.

Word on the street, and from many of our adoption friends and contacts, is that things in Ethiopia aren't as bad as we'd initially feared. I'm not quite ready to say that the crisis is averted, but I'm feeling more comfortable than I was two weeks ago. (Of course, I'll believe it when we get the call.)

To be more specific, it seems adoptions  in Ethiopia haven't, for the most part, slowed as much as we'd feared. Let's hope the trend continues! (And, Ms. Sticky Mango Feet, fingers and toes crossed that your time is really, really soon.)

I took some time today to read through a few of my blog posts from around two years ago. I was a little surprised at how positive, how excited and how enthusiastic I was. I mean, I remember being that way... I do. I remember thinking about taking our baby to the zoo and Halloween costumes and planning our trip to Nepal to meet our child and all that stuff. I really saw us with our child. I liked that part of me. I guess I'd just forgotten about that part of me. I remember, but I forgot. Make sense? Yea, didn't think so.

I don't think about that stuff anymore. I don't have that excited "I'm gonna be a mommy" feeling. It seems so far away. That feeling, I mean. The baby doesn't seem just far away - it seems unimaginable. (I'm sorry, baby.) I hope it comes back, that feeling. But right now it's just waaay to dangerous.

But I kid myself because I'm still very much in the game, just viewing from the sidelines. Somehow it feels safer. It's not. Who am I kidding?

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Hi Universe! We're still here!

803 days.
2 years + 2 months +14 days + 23 hours.
(Just sayin'...)

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Déjà vu... all over again

I seem to remember posting a lot about "unknowing" during the Nepal adoption process. Hmmm...

We had a talk with our agency today. They're really great people. And while we don't know anything new per se... the situation *may* not be as bad as some of the reports are making it out to be.

While I'm probably the worst person to attempt to articulate the situation, I will give it a try. Basically, last week the Ethiopian Ministry of Women’s, Children's, and Youth Affairs announced their intention to reduce intercountry adoptions by 90% beginning March 10, 2011. The reasons for this announcement are varied. The response by many organizations has been varied, as well.

Right now it appears that some of the Ministry have been terminated (potentially based on the announcement they made to reduce adoptions by 90%). Different organizations have diverse opinions on what will actually happen with the process from here. 90% could be a worst-case-scenario. Some say that historically Ethiopia has always done what is in "the best interest of the children/orphans", and this that decision does not appear to be in their best interest. We are hearing that Ethiopia is working on the situation and that we may hear more about this 90% number in the next week.

You'll note that I'm using very non-specific language (maybe, potentially, varied, diverse, etc.). The fact is - we're all in a place of un-knowing about the future of adoption in Ethiopia, and in our lives. Much like Nepal, Ethiopia is a very different world and culture than we're used to in the US. They make decisions and work through processes in very different timeframes and with different priorities.

The unknowing is a different flavor this time around. With Nepal, there were weeks/months of no communication whatsoever. With Ethiopia, we seem to be getting a bit more information. With Nepal, we had a strong feeling the US was preparing to shut down the country and, combined with the political unrest in the region, the situation was absolutely hellish. While we hear of potential/desired shutdown of Ethiopia, it doesn't have the same feeling as Nepal. And the political climate of Ethiopia certainly is different than that of Nepal. So there's unknowing for sure, again. But a different kind. But then again, if it felt the same, it wouldn't be unknowing, it would be knowing, wouldn't it?

Here's what I DO know: without a doubt, things will slow down. It's a matter of how much, and what happens from there.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Glue.

For 2 days, since the suggestion that adoptions in Ethiopia will be cut by 90%, I have felt like someone has been standing on my chest. I can't breathe. I can't sleep. My heart hurts - I mean, it physically hurts. Today in particular, I am having the hardest day I've had since August 6th. I am terrified of losing another child. Most days I keep the fear at bay - today it is my constant shadow - waiting to swallow me if I drop my guard for one second. I'm not tough right now. I'm on the verge of breaking into a million pieces.

But then you helped me. I got home to find a card from some friends telling us that we're in their thoughts, and to hold onto hope. They lost a child in Nepal, too. These people (who we really hardly know) took the time to write a note, address it, stamp it, put it in the mail - and while in their own very hard place - they let us know we were in their thoughts. 

This card, supportive comments on this blog from people I know and love, and people I've never met, phone calls, texts and check-ins at the office; my mom and dad, my husband: you're holding me together. Thank you. 


Namaste.


PS - I do regret that I sound so darn emotional lately. I'll try to work up a really positive or maybe a funny post. Or at least link to someone else's that will make you laugh.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

I really need you for less than a minute.


There is a recent movement to reduce inter-country in Ethiopia adoptions by 90%. This move would potentially eliminate our chance to bring home a child from Ethiopia, and put us in the rare company of couples who have had 2 international adoptions fail. (While I am sure the company is wonderful, I don't want to be in that club. It's the new adoptive parents' club I'm shooting for...)

Please, please sign this petition, send to your friends & family and post to FaceBook.  It'll take you less than a minute or so to do all 3. And it's very much appreciated.

Petition to the Prime Minister of Ethiopia, Meles Zenawi: http://www.gopetition.com/petition/43714.html

Oh - and any and all prayers, meditations, thoughts, good energy, etc, is welcomed and appreciated too. :)


Friday, March 4, 2011

Which is harder?

...adjusting to becoming parents, or adjusting to not becoming parents?

More rumors from Ethiopia that they're drastically reducing the number of foreign adoptions. Some sources are saying "by 90%". As a matter of course, I don't look at Ethiopia adoption news - but this little tidbit got through. Dammit. Our agency is "looking into matters".

Is it possible that we're just not going to become parents? Entirely. I'm not being negative, just realistic. I mean, this is our last shot, financially and emotionally.

Incidentally, I thought I had totally separated myself from this adoption - disconnected myself from it - so I wouldn't have to deal with the pain if it took the "Nepal" course. I was proud of how well I was doing not thinking about "when we get the baby," and instead focusing on "work, career and travel". Well, clearly I was wrong. I am not disconnected. I am scared, I am sick to my stomach, my heart hurts. I guess it's good to know that I still have a heart.

If I let myself, I'd be swallowed by sadness that I thought I'd hidden too far away to find me. Work, career, travel. Work, career, travel. Work, career, travel...