A new year in Ethiopia

I woke up on New Year's Day incredibly stuffed.  One must hit the rewind button to figure out why.

Angie and I visited her Dad and Step-mom at a great little sports bar in Maple Grove called 'The Lookout.'  It's everything you'd expect from a once-small-town-to-now-thriving-suburb sports bar.  The Lookout is named such, because it sits on a hill.  Creativity at its best.  It also used to sit in a swamp, but the swamp has been recently filled with McMansions, so it has that going for it.  It apparently has a great view of Minneapolis from it's perch, but it was frigid outside, and I've seen Minneapolis before.

Being a sports bar, the Lookout served a very brown meal.  I choose the Broasted Chicken and Ribs option, with a side of mashed potatoes.  There was a small salad bar, and they had a wonderful selection of iceberg lettuce and toppings (bacon bits, eggs, french dressing, etc.)  Later on in the evening, they had a free snack bar, to get people through to New Year's.  The bar included swedish meatballs, hotdogs, fried chicken, etc. 

Please notice the lack of ruffage in this meal.

So I woke up full, and the first thing I thought of was Ethiopia.

Since our decision was made to focus primarily on Ethiopia for our path to parenthood, I  have kept an eye on whatever news briefs I can on our future child's country.  Of concern was a report that Ethiopia will most likely experience a major famine starting this year, as they have been in the midst of a terrible drought.  As is the case, the Minister of Truth in Ethiopia, or the Disaster Prevention Minister (what he is normally titled), came out and issued a statement that everything is fine, move along.  Sure people are hungry, but not THAT hungry.

So, I said a prayer for Ethiopia and it's people.  I have no idea how this famine will affect our chances of adopting, or the war that is constantly bubbling up with Eritrea, but I said a prayer for the people of Ethiopia.

2 down, one to go.

We have now met with our wonderful social worker from Children's Home Society for the second time last night.  After our first meeting, I really thought she was going to stamp our file with a big red 'X' and the word 'CRAZY!' written under it.  She was very clinical with us in the first meeting, going through a questionaire we had filled out.  Both meetings lasted a little over 2 hours.

If you couldn't tell, I was nervous going into our sessions with our social worker.  First of all, it's a social worker.  Social workers get involved with families generally when there is a problem with the family dynamic.  At least, that's the stigma.  In reality, social workers help families get back on course, and are not the enemy.  Still, admitting that you need professional help is difficult.  Lord knows, I've probably needed professional help for years.

Secondly, it's hard to be questioned about your life, your choices, your decisions.  The 'kid in me' screams about how unfair it is that we get grilled about our life, while other families, even other infertile couples, get to have families without the Spanish Inquisition.  The adult in me realizes, that it really isn't the Spanish Inquisition.  In fact, our social worker's primary weapon is the comfy cushion. She just wants to make sure we aren't worthy of the CRAZY! stamp.  She was really sweet in walking us through our background, offering her own experience in adoption to help us make difficult decisons about what child we want. 

Yeah, it's kind of like, 'Build-a-Bear'.  We went through a list of diseases we were willing to accept, what level of disability, or 'abnormality' was okay.  What gender.  How old.  Things like that.  She was sweet, as I mentioned.  But firm.  Realistic.  Ugh.  The optimist in me says I can handle anything, overcome any obstacle.  The practical side of me was glad for her making us think about where the rubber hits the road.

The easiest example is our thought about the age of a child.  We told her we would be open to any age group of children under 24 months.  We just wanted to make sure we weren't so choosey that it would take five years for the proper child to be found.  She suggested we should do some research on toddler adoption before we commit to an older child.

Turns out, it's pretty hard to adopt a toddler.  Life has pretty much taught them you can't trust anyone, that every caregiver will leave you sooner or later.  You take control by trying to shop for your own new mommy, even though there maybe someone trying to be your actual mommy.  Mommy's come an go, so treat them how you want.

It's called attachment and bonding disorder, and it's common amongst all kids who have had multiple caregivers.  Most children can get over it, if they are given the proper support and care by their adoptive parents.  Kids under one years old tend to be a bit more resilient, and have probably lost fewer caregivers, so the process for helping these kiddos, while difficult and intense, is possible.  Older children, who have the capacity to deal with their disorder through language can also work through the grief caused by attachment and bonding disorder.  Toddlers are in a unique stage that makes it more difficult.  Optimistically, a toddler will work through the disorder with the help of their adoptive parents in a matter of 1-3 years.  Most people who choose to adopt toddlers know exactly what they are getting into, and understand the work required to adopt toddler.  According to one study we read, Parents who specifically choose to adopt toddlers will feel the happiest about the outcomes of their adoption process.  Parents who choose toddler adoption as a second or third choose, do not.

Since we fall into the second category, we decided an infant is more up the alley.  There was a fleeting sense of sadness when we came to this conclusion, but logically, it wouldn't be right for the child.  They deserve better.

Our second meeting with our social worker was fun.  We laughed.  We talked more about our backgrounds, our families, our losses, and times we felt like the minority.  We nailed down that adopting from Ethiopia was a good choice, BUT there was an inkling that adopting from Colombia may be an option for us, too.  It may take a little extra work so that we can get the paperwork done before Angie turns 39, but still possible.  And it will probably take less time to wait for a child than with Ethiopia.

Choices, choices, so many choices....

Tune in next time when she actually visits our home!