Waiting

We are officially waiting parents, and not just waiting to be parents.  The home visit is finished!

Well, that was easy.  As often is the case when you worry about something, it doesn't end up being as bad as your imagination.  Our social worker came by our house a little bit early - just as we were picking up the remaining doggie waste from the front yard.  Nice to see you, want to shake hands?

She took the grand tour of Chateau Lafond.  It was quick and painless.  No white-glove-dust-check. 

The memorable part for me will always be a short conversation we had on the way downstairs.  I was mentioning something about the house having a few things I wanted to fix up before the child arrived, to which she asked if the house had any weapons.

The house does have a set of katana blades, but it promises to sell them before we get a referral.

We sat and chatted for an hour.  She would ask us a question and we would respond, and then she'd ask if we would like to add to our response.  Apparently there was a word-count that we didn't reach for our essay.  We eventually stumbled through it.

We asked if there was anything in our house she suggested we take care of right away, and she politely and diplomatically said we should continue to allow our ideas for remodeling to take shape.  In other words, get to painting!

Phew.  That part is over - now to the unbearable lightness of being patient!

P.S.  We've (or I've) decided to refer to our child as 'Guido' for now. Just so we don't have to refer to it as 'it.' 

P.P.S. Angie's lukewarm on the idea.

Countdown

Big day tomorrow.  Our evening was spent putting the final touches on what we will show our social worker. It's not perfect by any means.  But it'll do.  We took it easy, had some pizza from our neighborhood pizza shop, vacuumed, scrubbed some floors, put away the laundry, etc, etc.  I think Ang and I both wanted to keep it as low key as possible.

Have I introduced my family?  Angie you know.  Our dogs are Cassie the English Setter (above left) and Foster the Australian Cattledog (above right.)  We have three cats:  Simon, our gregarious champion - he battles the dogs daily;  Booda, the crotchety Yoda-esque cat who 'meeps' at us; and Ellie, the sweet little girl who likes to nibble on Q-tips.  He have a lot of animals, and a lot of hair.  Our hairballs have hairballs.  We also have a corydora catfish and a hissing cockroach - both of which are unnamed. 

That's the fam.  We're an odd bunch.  Can't wait to add to it.

Scrub-fest 2010

Our social worker is coming to our home on Wednesday the 13th. I am slightly nervous that it had to be the 13th - not that I'm superstitious or anything.


So, this weekend was spent doing some much needed organization. I was in the 'let's shove everything in the basement and clean what we can' camp, while Angie had a better vision for where she wanted things to go. We got a few rooms straightened out, and we got Angie's art supplies laid out in our basement. Kudos goes out to Angie's sister, who spent a few hours cleaning our kitchen.

I was happy to spend Saturday inside, but had some serious cabin fever on Sunday when the mercury hit 20 degrees. I love Minnesota in the winter, but not so much when it's below zero. I can even handle the bitter cold temps every once in a while, but not for as long-term as we've had them, and not with the added sucky-ness of the wind. Hopefully, we'll have a nice spell of 20-30 degrees for a week or so.

There's still a little bit to do before Wednesday, but a great big chunk was completed over the weekend and I'm feeling quite a bit more positive than I was last week.

On a lighter note

My company is really good at rewarding milestones:  Anniversaries, Birthdays, and the End of the Year.  We get giftcard bonuses everytime a big event rolls around.  I'm lucky enough that all three of these events happen around the same time of the year.

So, with the bonuses and some money I had saved up, I bought the wife and I a Wii Fit, and a few extra games.  I have been letting fitness slide a bit for, oh, about 2 years.  I am a regular at our YMCA, but it hasn't been enough to make up for the caloric intake as of late.  I blame the Blue Door Pub in St. Paul.

Okay, how can I blame such a fine establishment?  Only have myself to blame on this one.

Anyways, I'm getting use to the system.  It's great to have an option for workout, without leaving the house on a frigid January evening in Minnesota.

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!

Dear God,

If you would be nice enough to allow us to have a child, we promise not to stuff them in a crate under our bed, or put them in a balloon shaped like a Jiffy-Pop popper.

Thanks,

Charlie and Angie