It seems like an eternity. You know, from November when we first "went live" on our agency's website. It actually hasn't been an eternity - I was using hyperbole - but it still feels like these threeish months have really dragged on. Remember when you knew your boyfriend/girlfriend was coming to visit you and you were waiting at home for them to show up and they said they would be over in like 15 minutes? Remember that excitement? The butterflies in your stomach? The nervous cleaning of your house so that everything would look perfect. All of that? Yeah, now stretch those 15 minutes into 3ish months, so far.
This is hard. Don't let anyone tell you that the process of adoption is "easy and fun" because it is not. Actually, I don't think you will find a soul that would say something crazy like that. Why? Because it isn't fun. And it isn't easy. Let me break it down for you how this process works on any given day. I wake up, check my phone. I have our adoption email synced to my phone. Then I check the facebook page to see if anyone contacted us overnight to ask if we wanted their kid. I get in the shower. On my way to work, I check the google analytics to see how many people looked at our profile over the past 24 hours. When I get to work and start dealing with all of the work junk, I open up the adoption forums - a place our agency has set up for adoptive parents to talk - online support group. I don't know why I didn't just say that, you aren't children, you know what a forum is. At some point, usually by mid afternoon, my brain is fried from work, so I mindlessly head over to our adoption agency's webpage to see how many couples recently adopted - there are actually a lot and our agency actually updates it too. Then I head over to the waiting families. There are anywhere from 436 to 442 families waiting. Yes, I have these numbers memorized. I have to, I need to know where we are on the list - somewhere either on page 26 or 27, depending on who many matches there have been. Then, my heart sinks because I think, "who is ever going to get through 26 pages of faces before they get to ours?" I also take this time as an opportunity to see if there are any changes to the order of people, or if there have been new "matches" (when a birthmother and the adoptive families decide to officially proceed - its like asking your boy/girlfriend to go steady). I know the differences in order because I go there every.single.day. It soothes me. Then when I am on my way home, I frantically check everything I had already checked all day. Then, I check our phone as soon as I walk in the door, just in case someone called during the day with a baby they want to give us.
Can it be fun? Yes. I sometimes really enjoy seeing that someone who has been waiting for so long has a big "MATCHED" stamped across their picture. Its proof this process works. It is also enjoyable to have some sort of support on the forums.
I am sure at this point you are saying, "but you have only been waiting 3ish months and pregnant women have to wait 9, quit the griping." You are right. But wrong. Okay, so here's the thing....pregnant women get to see some sort of changes to their body - the cravings, the exhaustion, nausea, swollen feet, cramps, whatever. You know what we see? Empty email boxes and silent phones. "But the women don't know everything about the baby!" Right. But you are wrong. They get to go and have sonograms and even those creepy 4D pictures from the mall of what their baby looks like (Side note, it is creepy that you can get a Wetzel's Pretzels and then walk next door and get a 4D sonogram.). We get random hits to our profile and an active imagination that takes off on where we would stay in that small little town in the middle of nowhere for two weeks before we can come home with our baby.
We are nowhere near even the average wait time for our agency (14 months). We are nowhere near the wait time of some of the people who have waited the longest at our agency (upwards of 3-4 or more years). But, I do not think of us as average. And I am sure all of you reading this, as our friends, wouldn't think we are average either....right??? It is so selfish, I know, to want the baby and want it now. I am sorry if, at this point, you are ready to throw your electronic reading device across the room in frustration at how I could be so selfish and demanding. It is hard, though. The wait, the unknown. It feels like high school gym class - well actually, I can't use that analogy since I didn't actually take a gym class in high school and opted for independent study - but it feels like what high school gym class looks like on TV. I don't want to be picked last. I want to be cool enough to some girl that we are chosen quickly. I want to be above the curve, not at the tail end of it.
So with all this excess energy and waiting, I created a facebook page for our adoption endeavors. Had a great rollout of it with tons of people excited and cheering us on. It has been great! I have loved the answers to our questions about diapers and baby books and all kinds of stuff - trust me, there will be more questions. It has turned into quite the nice little community - with the help of our friends and the epic power of social media, we have almost 400 followers! Holy smokes! It's pretty awesome and now its a challenge for me to get even more, because it only takes the one person to see our page and tell their friend who is pregnant and considering adoption to give us a call. There have been harder moments on the FB page - not gonna lie. It started with just one person saying something mean. There have been several others. I just delete them. I try to not take it personally, but honestly, it makes me sad. Not sad for me, but sad for these people that they have so much hate in their lives that the one thing that can give them some sort of satisfaction is to enter a page like ours and spew some nonsensical hate about us as people, when they have no idea who we are. But, we plug on because there are 400 people there that are cheering for us!
So the wait is hard. I wish it was over. But in the end, I am reminded that our child just isn't ready yet. If I pushed too hard and forced a situation, the child wouldn't be ours. There is a reason we wait, because the child that will be perfect for our family just hasn't arrived yet. But I'm not gonna lie when I say, I hope that our child's mom and dad are at least working getting that child to arrive.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Sunday, November 25, 2012
The Great Wait
After the mountains of paperwork, the background checks, the home study, and the creation of the infamous birthmother letter, we are finally approved. We are ready to wait. It is actually somewhat terrifying to think that we have been working diligently on this process since July at the Weekend Intensive workshop. There has always been one more piece of information to put together and get approved. Now, there isn't. We are done. We have spent countless hours ensuring that we are the perfect home for someone, but that person hasn't shown up quite yet.
We have statistics to check how frequently the online version of our Dear Birth Mother Letter is being accessed and for how long. I check that daily. Or twice a day. Or really, it is always open in the background and I am constantly clicking refresh to see if someone is looking at our site. Its the little thing I can do so have some semblance of control over the situation.
We have been "live" for almost a month. I know the average time for matching is about 14 months, and I know that we are only one month into that wait, but that doesn't mean I can't hope we will break records and find a match this soon. It is crazy, I know, and it will probably drive me somewhat nutty, but I have a wee touch of the OCD and I am a checker by trade, so this is just perfect for me to spend my time doing.
As I said, it has been a month. Our 1-800 number is all set up and forwarded to the home phone. Our email is set up and is ready to go. And it has been relatively quiet. Yes, we have had some hits. Some people have been looking at our site. Some have even gone back more than once. In fact, someone in Arkansas (eek!) has looked at our site 5 times. She spends a fair amount of time reviewing our site and her returns come several days apart. It is exciting. But i don't know if it will evolve into anything. We have had one call to the phone number, and it was a dead end.
So we wait. It will happen when it is supposed to happen. I know that. But honestly, those words don't provide me any comfort when I want something to happen right now. I have to keep it in perspective and Chad has been incredibly helpful in keeping things from getting too crazy. When I want to already consider more options for birth mother situations, he reminds me it hasn't been long enough to be thinking we are being too picky. It will happen when it is supposed to happen. And we wait.
We have statistics to check how frequently the online version of our Dear Birth Mother Letter is being accessed and for how long. I check that daily. Or twice a day. Or really, it is always open in the background and I am constantly clicking refresh to see if someone is looking at our site. Its the little thing I can do so have some semblance of control over the situation.
We have been "live" for almost a month. I know the average time for matching is about 14 months, and I know that we are only one month into that wait, but that doesn't mean I can't hope we will break records and find a match this soon. It is crazy, I know, and it will probably drive me somewhat nutty, but I have a wee touch of the OCD and I am a checker by trade, so this is just perfect for me to spend my time doing.
As I said, it has been a month. Our 1-800 number is all set up and forwarded to the home phone. Our email is set up and is ready to go. And it has been relatively quiet. Yes, we have had some hits. Some people have been looking at our site. Some have even gone back more than once. In fact, someone in Arkansas (eek!) has looked at our site 5 times. She spends a fair amount of time reviewing our site and her returns come several days apart. It is exciting. But i don't know if it will evolve into anything. We have had one call to the phone number, and it was a dead end.
So we wait. It will happen when it is supposed to happen. I know that. But honestly, those words don't provide me any comfort when I want something to happen right now. I have to keep it in perspective and Chad has been incredibly helpful in keeping things from getting too crazy. When I want to already consider more options for birth mother situations, he reminds me it hasn't been long enough to be thinking we are being too picky. It will happen when it is supposed to happen. And we wait.
Dear Birthmother, We Want Your Baby
So one important aspect of finding a baby is finding a nice girl who has gotten herself into a predicament that she is not ready for. I am sure whoever we find is going to be someone who is wonderful and special. She has simply made some difficult decisions and she is mature enough to realize she isn't ready to have a child of her own to raise, so she wants to find a good home. But this woman doesn't just show up on our doorstep. I mean, it would be really nice if that's the way it went down, but I don't think this method would really be something I would sell my house on.
IAC has a very innovative plan for helping women find adoptive homes for their babies. Its the Dear Birthmother Letter (DBML). This is a marketing tool that we create to show ourselves off as the best family for her. It is a mixture of pictures and text that tell our story in an attempt to "sell ourselves". A completed DBML is printed and given to the IAC so that when women call, we can be included in a packet of letters that get to sent to her, assuming our preferences match her situation and vice versa.
We went to work almost immediately back in August to create this letter. We enlisted our dear friend Hilary to help us take some stunning photos of our gleaming smiles for the cover of the brochure and she also supplied some children for us to use, since we don't have any of our own - obviously - and want to show the prospective women that we actually like children and can play nicely with them. We had a rough draft of our letter already in place because I am a planner so I knew this was going to be expected. However, I did not realize HOW rough the draft was. I fancy myself a bit of a writer, so I figured much of what I had said in our draft was good and effective. I used good images to draw the woman in and hopefully make her feel like she had found the family for her. Then the edits came in.
On staff at IAC is a marketer and editor. His main job is to review everything we have to say and then tell us that everything we have to say about ourselves is not good enough. This process is incredibly frustrating. We submit a draft, wait a week for his responses and edits, pick our egos up off the floor when we realize that in our current state we aren't exactly the best of the best, make the changes and the cycle continues. We have to talk about ourselves, our home, our careers, our interests and how desperately we want a baby. BUT we can't come across as too desperate or needy at the same time.
Every week between August and October, we played this little game. Then when we had the letter done, we played the game with our pictures. We scoured high and low for pictures that showed we liked to have fun. We certainly didn't want the women to know that we like to hide in dark rooms alone listening to depressing music (no, I swear that has never happened). Our pictures couldn't be just us, posed. They needed to be candid and action oriented. Now, many of you may know that neither Chad or I actually enjoys pictures or posing for pictures, so this task was frustrating. We had to keep in mind that everything we were asked to do by the editor was for the better good. I am not going to lie when I tell you that I was stressed about this. It put into compromise my pride as a writer. I had to finally realize that I had never actually written something like this and needed to accept the fact that I wasn't perfect - even if my mom tells me I am.
Finally, in mid October, we got the final approval and were ready to print the letters and begin the long wait. In the end, we created a letter we are proud of and truly believe will demonstrate our personalities and our hopes for a future with our child. It is professional, yet warm. It is perfect - and my mom hasn't even seen the final product, so I am going to say that it must be true!
IAC has a very innovative plan for helping women find adoptive homes for their babies. Its the Dear Birthmother Letter (DBML). This is a marketing tool that we create to show ourselves off as the best family for her. It is a mixture of pictures and text that tell our story in an attempt to "sell ourselves". A completed DBML is printed and given to the IAC so that when women call, we can be included in a packet of letters that get to sent to her, assuming our preferences match her situation and vice versa.
We went to work almost immediately back in August to create this letter. We enlisted our dear friend Hilary to help us take some stunning photos of our gleaming smiles for the cover of the brochure and she also supplied some children for us to use, since we don't have any of our own - obviously - and want to show the prospective women that we actually like children and can play nicely with them. We had a rough draft of our letter already in place because I am a planner so I knew this was going to be expected. However, I did not realize HOW rough the draft was. I fancy myself a bit of a writer, so I figured much of what I had said in our draft was good and effective. I used good images to draw the woman in and hopefully make her feel like she had found the family for her. Then the edits came in.
On staff at IAC is a marketer and editor. His main job is to review everything we have to say and then tell us that everything we have to say about ourselves is not good enough. This process is incredibly frustrating. We submit a draft, wait a week for his responses and edits, pick our egos up off the floor when we realize that in our current state we aren't exactly the best of the best, make the changes and the cycle continues. We have to talk about ourselves, our home, our careers, our interests and how desperately we want a baby. BUT we can't come across as too desperate or needy at the same time.
Every week between August and October, we played this little game. Then when we had the letter done, we played the game with our pictures. We scoured high and low for pictures that showed we liked to have fun. We certainly didn't want the women to know that we like to hide in dark rooms alone listening to depressing music (no, I swear that has never happened). Our pictures couldn't be just us, posed. They needed to be candid and action oriented. Now, many of you may know that neither Chad or I actually enjoys pictures or posing for pictures, so this task was frustrating. We had to keep in mind that everything we were asked to do by the editor was for the better good. I am not going to lie when I tell you that I was stressed about this. It put into compromise my pride as a writer. I had to finally realize that I had never actually written something like this and needed to accept the fact that I wasn't perfect - even if my mom tells me I am.
Finally, in mid October, we got the final approval and were ready to print the letters and begin the long wait. In the end, we created a letter we are proud of and truly believe will demonstrate our personalities and our hopes for a future with our child. It is professional, yet warm. It is perfect - and my mom hasn't even seen the final product, so I am going to say that it must be true!
Nesting, Part Duex
It has been a long time since I updated you all with our comings and goings. While it has been silent on this blogosphere, trust me when I say, it has been anything but quiet here at the homestead. Call it preparation for the noisy screams of the baby echoing throughout the house, but we call it just more settling in for the baby's arrival - whenever that may be. So we have been trying to make the baby a little more, how do you say, appealing. We have been doing a lot of work on the cosmetics of the house since we moved in. Exhausting work, I must say. Again, probably preparing us for the exhaustion we will feel with many sleepless nights with the baby. But we have redone the kitchen and painted walls in nearly every room and prepared the nursery. Despite what appears to be the perfectly completed house, there was still the dreaded floors. The carpet in our house has been absolutely horrendous. It was the original carpet from when the house was built about 20 years ago. Yeah, you can imagine. It was hideous. It was a light grey color that had so many stains it was beginning to look like some sort of a war zone, or worse yet, a murder scene. How could we ever let our child crawl around on that kind of a floor. While science cannot prove this, I would venture to guess that there was a few bed bugs or hornets growing inside of the carpet fibers. It had to go.
Before we could actually recarpet the house, we needed to do something with the mid 90s hardwood floors that had clearly passed their prime. Rather than spending a ton of money paying someone else to screw us over, but get a decent product, we decided it would be a great DIY project. Probably lunacy, yes. I have never involved myself in a lot of manual labor type activities, so this was going to be very interesting. We rented a lovely drum sander and edger to start the project. Despite my profound lack of knowledge of anything construction related, I figured I could get everything done in just a short day. Yeah probably not. I worked ridiculously hard and it just didn't happen. I was covered in sweat, covered in fine dust, and probably inhaling some sort of product "known to the state of California to cause cancer". It was great. Or it wasn't at all. But after 4 days of hard core working, it is done. Check that off the list. A week later, the carpet went in and it is like we have a new home. Perfect for the baby.
It is crazy how some anxiety surrounding bringing a baby into the home can cause you to change it up completely. We want this home to be perfect for the baby and in the mean time, it is really nice to have a house that is becoming more of our own home. I am sure that the first thing the baby is going to do when he/she comes home is judge us on the padding underneath the carpet, so we sprang for the upgraded stuff. I am fairly certain we will get some thank yous from the little one...
Before we could actually recarpet the house, we needed to do something with the mid 90s hardwood floors that had clearly passed their prime. Rather than spending a ton of money paying someone else to screw us over, but get a decent product, we decided it would be a great DIY project. Probably lunacy, yes. I have never involved myself in a lot of manual labor type activities, so this was going to be very interesting. We rented a lovely drum sander and edger to start the project. Despite my profound lack of knowledge of anything construction related, I figured I could get everything done in just a short day. Yeah probably not. I worked ridiculously hard and it just didn't happen. I was covered in sweat, covered in fine dust, and probably inhaling some sort of product "known to the state of California to cause cancer". It was great. Or it wasn't at all. But after 4 days of hard core working, it is done. Check that off the list. A week later, the carpet went in and it is like we have a new home. Perfect for the baby.
It is crazy how some anxiety surrounding bringing a baby into the home can cause you to change it up completely. We want this home to be perfect for the baby and in the mean time, it is really nice to have a house that is becoming more of our own home. I am sure that the first thing the baby is going to do when he/she comes home is judge us on the padding underneath the carpet, so we sprang for the upgraded stuff. I am fairly certain we will get some thank yous from the little one...
Thursday, August 16, 2012
The Home Study
Well, as you saw from the last post, we had a lot of paperwork to fill out. In tandem to the paperwork for background checks, etc., we also have the Dear Birthmother Letter to work on. Well, there is a third piece to the puzzle: the Home Study. This has been probably the most daunting part of this whole process. The fact that someone is going to be entering our home, talking to us about who-knows-what, and evaluating us on the safety of our home. Now, in my mind, and I think in Chad's mind too, we envisioned a Social Worker coming in, with white gloves checking for dust, pulling out every drawer and examining the contents to ensure child safety at all times, and grilling us about our intentions with the child. As if we are going to turn into pageant parents or something. We had to write autobiographies that asked about all kinds of personal details from our childhood including our relationships with our parents, who we thought we were more like, what our school experiences were, our relationship history, and listing every. single. job. we have ever had (with dates and reasons for quitting). Not going to lie, for a moment, I contemplated just attaching my Curriculum Vitae and calling it good. So with this in depth autobiography sent to the Social Worker, what else could she possibly want from us? Blood samples? Lie Detector tests? Medieval torture chamber experiments? It was unclear. So we panicked. Because that is the rational thing to do. Now, if you talk to Chad, he was calm, no panic to speak of. I, however, panicked. In typical fashion for me, I throw myself into everything I can control to make the situation as perfect as can be. I am sure the social worker would have some sort of judgement about that. Heck, I am a Psychologist and if I heard that, I would probably have some sort of judgement, so why wouldn't she?
We pulled out the information the agency had given us (in the $18,000 binder) about how to prepare for the home study.
First, remove all cleaning supplies from under the kitchen sink and store in an elevated location the child cannot reach. Great, they want us to set back the hands of time and erase history and pretend like no one in the world, and especially parents, would ever consider having cleaning supplies in such a ridiculous place in the house. I mean, really? Nothing under the sink. I can say with 100% confidence that the only reason I put them there is because my mom put them there when I was growing up. And that means that I had unadulterated access as a naive child to drink and eat as many cleaning products as my hands would allow. AND I DIDN'T. I am still alive. I am also fairly certain that if I did a poll here of people who had cleaning products under the sink when they were kids and those people are still alive, the poll would show 100%. But I buckled and made space above our washer and dryer in the laundry room - on the other side of the house - to put the cleaning supplies. Its nice to have to take the south shuttle to the laundry room when I want to get the dishwashing detergent out to run a load of dishes.
Second, ensure all medications and vitamins are in a locking safe (with combination or key lock). Even better. So now, in order to get medications that a licensed and board certified doctor has decided are important for the health and safety of the parents, we must enter a combination into a special medication safe. I sure hope during one of my asthma attacks I can focus enough to remember the 18 digit password to get into the safe for my inhaler. I am sure that is a pretty easy feat to accomplish. And when I get older, and start taking calcium for my arthritis or bone degeneration, I hope my fingers work well enough to maneuver the find motor skills required to twist the handle open. However, it did provide a great opportunity to sift through the myriad of pill boxes and bottles that we have been hoarding since we left Oregon 4 years ago. I was quite shocked to find some sudafed that had expired in 2006. I am pretty certain it was well on its way to becoming methamphetamine - because there is an aging process on meth, much like with fine wine. So I tidied up the joint. I encouraged our roommate to do the same. And now, the cabinets look oddly like they did when we first moved into the house, of course with the addition of the fire-proof, kid-proof safe (with combination lock).
Third, the water heater must be set at or below 120 degrees. Okay, I can handle this. I mean, after all, our water heater did just putz out on us last week and had to have a plumber come and replace some valve or something. So we asked him to set it to 120 degrees. He laughed at us. Literally. Laughed. In. Our. Faces. Apparently 120 degrees is like taking a shower in a lake in about April. Its cold. Well not cold, but lukewarm. Fantastic. Gone are the days of half hour showers with steamy hot water to lull me into a relaxed stupor. Now, I am going to be racing the clock to get out of the shower before my hands and feet turn purple. I am sure California Water and The Gas Company will appreciate my lowered bills. And, in turn, all of your environmentalists will love me for my conservation efforts.
Fourth, the fireplace needs to be covered. I am assuming this is so a child can't throw themselves into a fire. Well, normally fireplaces have those nice, tacky, glass doors. That is more than enough "coverage" according to the binder. However, we didn't like the 1990's brass and gold glass doors on ours so we removed them. And the fake log for the gas flames to surround. THen we filled it with multicolored crushed glass for a more modern look. Yeah. That's gonna need to be covered somehow. Thankfully, our friend Jerod (you are the best!) is a bit of a handyman and said he could make an awesome cover with plexiglass framed with black paint with magnets to keep it closed and keep the child away from the flames and glass. He brought it over the day before the home study and it looks amazing! Basically a work of art. Try and get in there now, kid!
I guess those are the major issues to be addressed. Of course, we needed to make sure there is a bed for every child in the house. Thankfully we have none as of now. But we do have a crib for the upcoming baby. And Chad only acts like a child sometimes, so I think they will be okay with us sharing a bed (I am KIDDING Chad!!).
The date was set for the home study. The Social Worker called me and set up the appointment for August 15th. She was very nice. She said she was going on a cruise so the 15th was the soonest she had available. Naturally, because I am either a sociopath or a really good Psychologist, I filed that tidbit of knowledge away to bust out during the actual visit to show I pay attention, and will therefore pay attention to my child. The night of the 14th we frantically cleaned our already clean house. Scrubbing walls, dusting the tops of pictures (you know, because she has white gloves), and scraping grout in the bathrooms. Chad bought the book, "The Five Love Languages" and in the cleaning he had moved it to the floor next to his night stand. I went behind him and put it back on the night stand. Again, sociopath or Psychologist? We were ready.
On the 15th, we were ready. The appointment was at 6. By 5, we were sitting in silence, in the living room, waiting. I think the nerves finally sank in for us. 6 came. 6 went. 6:15 came, and went. Chad informed me it was creepy, at this point, to have my face pressed up against the front door staring out the slots of glass. I was nervous. I needed to call her. He told me to wait. 6:28 came and I was at my wits end. He finally let me call her. She informed me that the appointment was at 6:30 and she had just pulled up to the house. I hung up and entered into my fairly common shame spiral of thinking that I had just failed us on the home study because I questioned her appointment schedule. Whoops.
She came in and she was probably the nicest person we could meet. We confessed our nervousness and she laughed. In. Our. Faces. It is becoming a theme. She assured us we had nothing to worry about. She had never failed anyone on a home study (there's always a first, lady). Then she took it back and said she failed one person because he revealed he had a history of sexual perpetrations. Well we are in the clear then, we are not sexual perpetrators. All she really wanted was our life history, in our own words. Maybe she can't read? We wrote those out already. But she was very nice about it and it was incredibly easy. She said there would be two visits, the second one a few weeks after this visit after she has processed everything we discussed and had written it down and come up with more questions. She also said the actual house evaluation could be then. We said we would prefer it now, because, well, we cleaned the friggin picture frames for this! I am not doing that again. After she had taken in about her maximum amount of information, she decided to have a look around. It was quick. All of the things that we did in preparation (see above), were of little interest to her. I actually had to physically open the cabinets under the sink to prove to her that there wasn't anything in them. She didn't care. Perhaps it was her 20+ years of working for CPS that clued her in that our house was probably safer than the vast majority of the homes she comes across on a daily basis in the ghetto. Maybe THEY should have to scrub their houses before they pump out the kids.
Then it was over. Of course, she didn't notice the book on the coffee table, or the safe, or the scrubbing. I did toss in a question about her cruise. When she said she went to Alaska, I knew the deal was sealed. After all, I am from Alaska and could related to her experience.
She comes back for the second visit on the 4th. I don't know what else she wants to know from us, but she said she usually comes up with some questions from our first interview. She explained the process: she would finish the study, send it to us to review, then send it to the agency to review and then it would be done. It would probably take about 6 weeks. Ugh. More waiting. I guess this is like our first trimester or something. I don't know. I sure hope she can type quickly. And how do I get in on this deal? Going to people's houses, getting paid to write up their life story? I can do that! And I would notice the little details, clearly.
Travis
We pulled out the information the agency had given us (in the $18,000 binder) about how to prepare for the home study.
First, remove all cleaning supplies from under the kitchen sink and store in an elevated location the child cannot reach. Great, they want us to set back the hands of time and erase history and pretend like no one in the world, and especially parents, would ever consider having cleaning supplies in such a ridiculous place in the house. I mean, really? Nothing under the sink. I can say with 100% confidence that the only reason I put them there is because my mom put them there when I was growing up. And that means that I had unadulterated access as a naive child to drink and eat as many cleaning products as my hands would allow. AND I DIDN'T. I am still alive. I am also fairly certain that if I did a poll here of people who had cleaning products under the sink when they were kids and those people are still alive, the poll would show 100%. But I buckled and made space above our washer and dryer in the laundry room - on the other side of the house - to put the cleaning supplies. Its nice to have to take the south shuttle to the laundry room when I want to get the dishwashing detergent out to run a load of dishes.
Second, ensure all medications and vitamins are in a locking safe (with combination or key lock). Even better. So now, in order to get medications that a licensed and board certified doctor has decided are important for the health and safety of the parents, we must enter a combination into a special medication safe. I sure hope during one of my asthma attacks I can focus enough to remember the 18 digit password to get into the safe for my inhaler. I am sure that is a pretty easy feat to accomplish. And when I get older, and start taking calcium for my arthritis or bone degeneration, I hope my fingers work well enough to maneuver the find motor skills required to twist the handle open. However, it did provide a great opportunity to sift through the myriad of pill boxes and bottles that we have been hoarding since we left Oregon 4 years ago. I was quite shocked to find some sudafed that had expired in 2006. I am pretty certain it was well on its way to becoming methamphetamine - because there is an aging process on meth, much like with fine wine. So I tidied up the joint. I encouraged our roommate to do the same. And now, the cabinets look oddly like they did when we first moved into the house, of course with the addition of the fire-proof, kid-proof safe (with combination lock).
Third, the water heater must be set at or below 120 degrees. Okay, I can handle this. I mean, after all, our water heater did just putz out on us last week and had to have a plumber come and replace some valve or something. So we asked him to set it to 120 degrees. He laughed at us. Literally. Laughed. In. Our. Faces. Apparently 120 degrees is like taking a shower in a lake in about April. Its cold. Well not cold, but lukewarm. Fantastic. Gone are the days of half hour showers with steamy hot water to lull me into a relaxed stupor. Now, I am going to be racing the clock to get out of the shower before my hands and feet turn purple. I am sure California Water and The Gas Company will appreciate my lowered bills. And, in turn, all of your environmentalists will love me for my conservation efforts.
Fourth, the fireplace needs to be covered. I am assuming this is so a child can't throw themselves into a fire. Well, normally fireplaces have those nice, tacky, glass doors. That is more than enough "coverage" according to the binder. However, we didn't like the 1990's brass and gold glass doors on ours so we removed them. And the fake log for the gas flames to surround. THen we filled it with multicolored crushed glass for a more modern look. Yeah. That's gonna need to be covered somehow. Thankfully, our friend Jerod (you are the best!) is a bit of a handyman and said he could make an awesome cover with plexiglass framed with black paint with magnets to keep it closed and keep the child away from the flames and glass. He brought it over the day before the home study and it looks amazing! Basically a work of art. Try and get in there now, kid!
I guess those are the major issues to be addressed. Of course, we needed to make sure there is a bed for every child in the house. Thankfully we have none as of now. But we do have a crib for the upcoming baby. And Chad only acts like a child sometimes, so I think they will be okay with us sharing a bed (I am KIDDING Chad!!).
The date was set for the home study. The Social Worker called me and set up the appointment for August 15th. She was very nice. She said she was going on a cruise so the 15th was the soonest she had available. Naturally, because I am either a sociopath or a really good Psychologist, I filed that tidbit of knowledge away to bust out during the actual visit to show I pay attention, and will therefore pay attention to my child. The night of the 14th we frantically cleaned our already clean house. Scrubbing walls, dusting the tops of pictures (you know, because she has white gloves), and scraping grout in the bathrooms. Chad bought the book, "The Five Love Languages" and in the cleaning he had moved it to the floor next to his night stand. I went behind him and put it back on the night stand. Again, sociopath or Psychologist? We were ready.
On the 15th, we were ready. The appointment was at 6. By 5, we were sitting in silence, in the living room, waiting. I think the nerves finally sank in for us. 6 came. 6 went. 6:15 came, and went. Chad informed me it was creepy, at this point, to have my face pressed up against the front door staring out the slots of glass. I was nervous. I needed to call her. He told me to wait. 6:28 came and I was at my wits end. He finally let me call her. She informed me that the appointment was at 6:30 and she had just pulled up to the house. I hung up and entered into my fairly common shame spiral of thinking that I had just failed us on the home study because I questioned her appointment schedule. Whoops.
She came in and she was probably the nicest person we could meet. We confessed our nervousness and she laughed. In. Our. Faces. It is becoming a theme. She assured us we had nothing to worry about. She had never failed anyone on a home study (there's always a first, lady). Then she took it back and said she failed one person because he revealed he had a history of sexual perpetrations. Well we are in the clear then, we are not sexual perpetrators. All she really wanted was our life history, in our own words. Maybe she can't read? We wrote those out already. But she was very nice about it and it was incredibly easy. She said there would be two visits, the second one a few weeks after this visit after she has processed everything we discussed and had written it down and come up with more questions. She also said the actual house evaluation could be then. We said we would prefer it now, because, well, we cleaned the friggin picture frames for this! I am not doing that again. After she had taken in about her maximum amount of information, she decided to have a look around. It was quick. All of the things that we did in preparation (see above), were of little interest to her. I actually had to physically open the cabinets under the sink to prove to her that there wasn't anything in them. She didn't care. Perhaps it was her 20+ years of working for CPS that clued her in that our house was probably safer than the vast majority of the homes she comes across on a daily basis in the ghetto. Maybe THEY should have to scrub their houses before they pump out the kids.
Then it was over. Of course, she didn't notice the book on the coffee table, or the safe, or the scrubbing. I did toss in a question about her cruise. When she said she went to Alaska, I knew the deal was sealed. After all, I am from Alaska and could related to her experience.
She comes back for the second visit on the 4th. I don't know what else she wants to know from us, but she said she usually comes up with some questions from our first interview. She explained the process: she would finish the study, send it to us to review, then send it to the agency to review and then it would be done. It would probably take about 6 weeks. Ugh. More waiting. I guess this is like our first trimester or something. I don't know. I sure hope she can type quickly. And how do I get in on this deal? Going to people's houses, getting paid to write up their life story? I can do that! And I would notice the little details, clearly.
Travis
The Mountain of Paperwork
You will have to excuse my brief absence from posting lately. We have been a tad bit busy. After sifting through the mountains of paperwork required of us from medical histories, physician exams, live scans, more live scans, even more live scans, DMV requests, out of state CPS checks, autobiographies and questionnaires about our preferences for babies, we finally found the other side. Sheesh. You would think we were trying to adopt a baby or something. Seriously though. It was a lot of paperwork. A lot of forms that looked nearly identical to each other requesting essentially the same thing. After two weeks of this, I was seeing cross eyed and didn't think it would ever end. One thing I learned: the government (read the FBI, DOJ) is incredibly slow and behind the times when it comes to how they obtain finger prints. Yes, they have this new fangled thing called live scan - a computerized "database" where your fingerprints are stored. Naturally, when you hear the words computerized and database together, you would assume this would mean, do it once and you are forever in the system. It works for criminals. But no, it is some sort of Ponzi scheme where you are forced to pay more and more money every time you need to get finger prints. I had thought since I had been finger printed to work at nearly every job I have had since getting into Psychology I would be covered. The answer is no. I thought that since I had to get finger printed even more recently to get my professional license it would be in the system. I was wrong. Every time someone needs your finger prints, you go back to the same database to have them taken again. Even when you are doing two forms...AT THE SAME TIME! Preposterous. Someone should write a strongly worded letter to the developer of this "live scan" contraption. I would volunteer, but as you can see, I am busy trying to get a baby.
Now, if you weren't already exhausted from reading off the list of forms we have filled out, there is MORE, so please take a seat. We have been working on a nice Dear Birthmother Letter. This letter is our marketing tool to gain access to the hearts and eyes of perspective birth mothers. This isn't just a one page, double-spaced letter that ends with "hugs and kisses, Chad and Travis". It is a pamphlet. Printed on card stock, professionally, filled with pictures and information about us. It is a big deal. When we went to the weekend orientation, this is what they put the most emphasis on for the entire process. It is with this letter that we most often find a match for a birthmother. So its a lot of work. Thankfully, I am a planner. When we went to the orientation about three years ago, they had mentioned this letter/website business, so I went to work as soon as we got home. I started a website and saved it on our trusty MacBook (shameless plug, since it was 3 years old then, and I am sitting here typing on the old broad now). I just pulled off the information from that original draft and plugged it into a Word document and made a few edits. Now, we have a nice editor over at the agency who spends A LOT of time looking at this thing. So I send it to him and a week later, he shoots it back to me riddled with edits. I was expecting some feedback, but let's be honest. I am a bit of a casual writer. I think I am decent at the job. I assumed some light revisions with a nice "You are awesome and this is great" on the bottom of the letter. Yeah. I didn't get that. I got a lot of edits. A lot of feedback, which was good to get, but kind of a blow to my ego. All for a baby, right? So, I made some corrections, polished it again, thinking it was even better than the first and waited for the response of utter amazement. We got our second draft back this week. It wasn't the response I was looking for. Close to being done, but still just not there. There is typically about a week between each edit - I guess he is "busy" with our competition...I wonder what he says about them - and that is a lot of time to wait. To be fair, I may be a writer, of sorts, but I don't rarely write about myself in a marketable and favorable way. I enjoy the self-depreciating humor that comes with the trials and tribulations of my life. So, to write no more than 950 words about who we are, where we live, what we plan to do with the child and how we want to involve her in our lives has been very difficult. I was sticking with pretty general information, because, well, I'm not completely sure about what sorts of things we will do with our child. I know we want to love him/her. I know we want to share the world with him/her. However, they want specific examples. Details and images of things we want to do. Thats hard.
So, I am on day two and counting, waiting for what I hope to be one of the last drafts so we can begin using their "online design center" to create the colors and layout of our letter so we can get a proof, and then cut another check for printing costs to make up about 100 of the suckers.
They say this process - the paperwork, letter writing and home study (to be discussed in the next blog) - will take about 3-4 months. It has been 3 weeks since the Weekend Intensive and we are rounding what I hope to be third base. The sooner it gets done, the sooner we hit the books and start sitting longingly staring at the telephone. I am hoping to beat some sort of a record for the quickest to get to the waiting portion of the experience.
Needless to say, this has been pretty exhausting. There is a lot to do. I guess if we can't go through the pains of carrying the child, this is the next best/worst thing to do when trying to have a baby. What is interesting in all of this, as the reality of the whole situation sets in, is that somewhere, in America, there is a girl who is about ready to get pregnant. And that girl is going to pick us. I don't know where she is, but it is hard not to imagine a faceless (for now) girl, who is in, or going to soon be in, a very scary place and she is going to look to us to help her. I am so excited for her. I find myself wondering, every day, if today is the day she got pregnant (not in the creepy way, thinking about the act). I wonder if it is today that she realizes she is pregnant and starts to think about her options. I think that is what pushes me to go through all of this so quickly. I want to get out there. I want to have our name come up when she calls into the agency as one of the couples that, on paper, matches with her. Every day we aren't "on the books" is another day that another prospective birth mother slips through our fingers, out of our control. I know there are a lot of people thinking, and that will tell me, it will happen when it is supposed to happen. That the right person is going to fall into our laps. I believe that, most definitely, but I want to help the process along. Why not? Right?
So that's where we are at. My fingers are healing from all the paper cuts as I have weeded through the paperwork. The scanner is getting a well deserved rest from all the work it has done getting each piece of paperwork sent to the right people. We are getting close. The control is quickly leaving our hands and moving into others that may not have the same intensity for us, specifically. That is scary. But that is part of the process. I suppose there are a lot of pregnant mothers and expectant fathers who feel the same way as the belly grows. Just waiting for the day their baby will arrive. Ours is just a little more....nontraditional.
Travis
Now, if you weren't already exhausted from reading off the list of forms we have filled out, there is MORE, so please take a seat. We have been working on a nice Dear Birthmother Letter. This letter is our marketing tool to gain access to the hearts and eyes of perspective birth mothers. This isn't just a one page, double-spaced letter that ends with "hugs and kisses, Chad and Travis". It is a pamphlet. Printed on card stock, professionally, filled with pictures and information about us. It is a big deal. When we went to the weekend orientation, this is what they put the most emphasis on for the entire process. It is with this letter that we most often find a match for a birthmother. So its a lot of work. Thankfully, I am a planner. When we went to the orientation about three years ago, they had mentioned this letter/website business, so I went to work as soon as we got home. I started a website and saved it on our trusty MacBook (shameless plug, since it was 3 years old then, and I am sitting here typing on the old broad now). I just pulled off the information from that original draft and plugged it into a Word document and made a few edits. Now, we have a nice editor over at the agency who spends A LOT of time looking at this thing. So I send it to him and a week later, he shoots it back to me riddled with edits. I was expecting some feedback, but let's be honest. I am a bit of a casual writer. I think I am decent at the job. I assumed some light revisions with a nice "You are awesome and this is great" on the bottom of the letter. Yeah. I didn't get that. I got a lot of edits. A lot of feedback, which was good to get, but kind of a blow to my ego. All for a baby, right? So, I made some corrections, polished it again, thinking it was even better than the first and waited for the response of utter amazement. We got our second draft back this week. It wasn't the response I was looking for. Close to being done, but still just not there. There is typically about a week between each edit - I guess he is "busy" with our competition...I wonder what he says about them - and that is a lot of time to wait. To be fair, I may be a writer, of sorts, but I don't rarely write about myself in a marketable and favorable way. I enjoy the self-depreciating humor that comes with the trials and tribulations of my life. So, to write no more than 950 words about who we are, where we live, what we plan to do with the child and how we want to involve her in our lives has been very difficult. I was sticking with pretty general information, because, well, I'm not completely sure about what sorts of things we will do with our child. I know we want to love him/her. I know we want to share the world with him/her. However, they want specific examples. Details and images of things we want to do. Thats hard.
So, I am on day two and counting, waiting for what I hope to be one of the last drafts so we can begin using their "online design center" to create the colors and layout of our letter so we can get a proof, and then cut another check for printing costs to make up about 100 of the suckers.
They say this process - the paperwork, letter writing and home study (to be discussed in the next blog) - will take about 3-4 months. It has been 3 weeks since the Weekend Intensive and we are rounding what I hope to be third base. The sooner it gets done, the sooner we hit the books and start sitting longingly staring at the telephone. I am hoping to beat some sort of a record for the quickest to get to the waiting portion of the experience.
Needless to say, this has been pretty exhausting. There is a lot to do. I guess if we can't go through the pains of carrying the child, this is the next best/worst thing to do when trying to have a baby. What is interesting in all of this, as the reality of the whole situation sets in, is that somewhere, in America, there is a girl who is about ready to get pregnant. And that girl is going to pick us. I don't know where she is, but it is hard not to imagine a faceless (for now) girl, who is in, or going to soon be in, a very scary place and she is going to look to us to help her. I am so excited for her. I find myself wondering, every day, if today is the day she got pregnant (not in the creepy way, thinking about the act). I wonder if it is today that she realizes she is pregnant and starts to think about her options. I think that is what pushes me to go through all of this so quickly. I want to get out there. I want to have our name come up when she calls into the agency as one of the couples that, on paper, matches with her. Every day we aren't "on the books" is another day that another prospective birth mother slips through our fingers, out of our control. I know there are a lot of people thinking, and that will tell me, it will happen when it is supposed to happen. That the right person is going to fall into our laps. I believe that, most definitely, but I want to help the process along. Why not? Right?
So that's where we are at. My fingers are healing from all the paper cuts as I have weeded through the paperwork. The scanner is getting a well deserved rest from all the work it has done getting each piece of paperwork sent to the right people. We are getting close. The control is quickly leaving our hands and moving into others that may not have the same intensity for us, specifically. That is scary. But that is part of the process. I suppose there are a lot of pregnant mothers and expectant fathers who feel the same way as the belly grows. Just waiting for the day their baby will arrive. Ours is just a little more....nontraditional.
Travis
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Weekend Intensive
Whew. We finally have a chance to breathe. Just in time to return to work. As many of you may know, we had our Weekend Intensive meetings this past weekend down in LA - again. This time, we wised up and avoided the Motel 6, despite its promises and lures of relaxation and spa-like environs. Instead, we opted for an air mattress in the living room of a friend who lives in Alhambra (a short 25 miles away from the IAC offices - more on that "short" jaunt later). I am not sure we really knew what to expect when we headed down to LA after work on Thursday. On Friday morning, we were bright-eyed and bushy tailed and ready to take on whatever they threw at us. We had our folder of pre-filled out forms that I was sure would amaze the staff because we were so on top of things. After all, we had sacrificed so much of our previous week - and by sacrifice, I mean peeling our eyes off of the Real Housewives and Hell's Kitchen long enough to make sure everything was done.
When we got there, there were three other couples, one of which we saw last weekend at the orientation - clearly our biggest competition. The secret agents who acted coy and unsure last week, but who decided ultimately to jump at this chance. Of course it isn't a competition, but how could it not be. A little. I mean, we are starting around the same time, so we are heading out the gate neck and neck - the finish line: a sterile hospital room with an amazingly selfless girl bringing fourth our baby. Now, I am not competitive, but I am not going to just sit back while there are things I can be doing needing to be done. Then there was the other gay couple. Hmmm. Similarities can be detrimental. But, one of them is an "actor". I dared Chad to ask what he had seen him in, but no bite. He left midway through the day for an audition. Can't help but think of the deductions the judges would give him for that (yes, the Olympics are currently on). Finally, a vanilla couple in the corner from Pacoima. Not much to say. He is in finance. I don't remember what she does. Eh. Not on the radar.
Friday was nothing short of incredibly overwhelming. We were given what Chad has deemed "the $20,000 binder" that will act as our user guide for everything we could possibly need to know about this process. Then the staff began their tag team approach to scaring the bejeebus out of us. The home study will not be adequate unless we are able to move all cleaning products from under the sink to somewhere out of the reach of children - like the attic, I think. We have to invest in a lock box for all of our medications and vitamins, also to be stored in the attic, or more preferably in an off-site storage. And our beautifully remodeled fireplace will need to be re-fabricated and covered so the child doesn't run into the glass and fire. Hey - the cats only did it once before realizing fire = hot. We learned about how to build the ever important Birthmother Letter and subsequent website. We were told it would take about 2 months of back and forth edits to finish the letter and get an approval for final proof. Apparently they didn't know that creative writing is a passion of mine. I will have to educate them. Break for lunch.
We returned to learn about who the birthmothers are.
Average age: 22-23
Relatively uneducated, but there are many in college
80% do not use drugs or alcohol (turns out the requirements to complete the program are too intensive for many drug abusers to complete. Ironic, as this weekend was leading me to really want a glass of wine.)
up to 20% of those who have used alcohol are "initial users" which means they may have had some social drinking experiences prior to realizing they were pregnant.
54% are Caucasian - next closest is Hispanic at 9%.
Twins occur in a similar proportion found in the general population: about 2%
only 4% end up changing their minds when they give birth.
Very few require financial assistance.
Nearly all are covered under some form of health insurance - whether it be her own, her parents, or medicaid.
By the end of the day, we had had so much information thrown at us, I honestly couldn't tell you what the last hour consisted of. I could tell you that I am fairly certain my ass had been numb for nearly 2 hours and I couldn't feel parts of my legs. Then came the homework. Yes, I did perk up at that. I could have sworn I had graduated and sworn off school forever. But, homework always stalks you apparently. We have to read two books. I am not sure if there is a quiz. I am going to read the books. I always do.
Then came the drive home. Remember how I kind of boasted about only having to drive 25 miles to our upgraded accommodations? Well, it was Friday. At 5 pm. In LA. I was near delusional. Thankfully the GPS offered traffic guidance and route recalculations. What the GPS doesn't take into consideration. Driver safety and an algorithm to factor socioeconomic dynamics and crime statistics into these routes. We unknowingly avoided the freeway traffic - thank the good Lord - by taking the first exit directly into the heart of South Central LA. Yeah Inglewood. Terrifying. However, we learned where McDonalds and myriad of fried chicken joints make their money. Nearly two hours later and narrowly avoiding multiple drive by shootings (maybe. Probably not), we made it back to the house. I needed to stare at a wall. And not think. The best compromise we could derive: the Opening Ceremony for the 2012 Olympics. Dulled the brain perfectly. However, it was an impromptu geography lesson. Now, I pride myself in my knowledge of geography (please reference the fact that I have had to educate many people about the fact that Alaska is not, in fact, an island. And Egypt, most definitely is part of Africa), but I had no idea many of these countries existed.
We returned the the offices on Saturday relatively refreshed. We enjoyed a nice breakfast at Denny's by the airport, because, if we can't sleep by the airport, we should at least rub shoulders at some of the finest dining W. Century Blvd has to offer. The morning was quick. We met a birthmother. I was astounded by her ability to withstand a tremendous uphill battle at such a young age and still remain totally selfless and give the gift of life to another couple. It takes courage. It takes strength. I can only hope that we find such a strong girl. Rounding out the experience was a talk with another adoptive family. I wasn't impressed with the man's ability to speak, which makes it hard to empathize with his story. But nonetheless, it is encouraging to know that people do in fact end up with kids :)
We rounded out our trip to LA with a trip to IKEA. Who wouldn't go to decompress at a Swedish DIY furniture store. We found a few little do-dads to bring home, but nothing like a full kitchen or a bed. I think the only reason was that we couldn't fit a king sized bed frame in the Prius, even if it is uassembled at time of transport.
One of the things we were told to do to prepare for the birthmother letter and website is to get some pictures for the letter. We had some friends over (Hilary and Jerod are simply amazing!) and had a mini photo shoot. Lesson of the day: you women are quite impressive at blending your make up. I had to put some cover up on my face as a form of air brushing, and apparently my blending techniques are not up to professional standards. We got some awesome pictures and we are very excited to get them up and going on our marketing products.
As usual, thank you all so much for supporting us with encouraging words, volunteerism, and willingness to find random children that we can nab for action-based photo ops. You are all amazing.
Thank you for taking this journey with us!
Travis
When we got there, there were three other couples, one of which we saw last weekend at the orientation - clearly our biggest competition. The secret agents who acted coy and unsure last week, but who decided ultimately to jump at this chance. Of course it isn't a competition, but how could it not be. A little. I mean, we are starting around the same time, so we are heading out the gate neck and neck - the finish line: a sterile hospital room with an amazingly selfless girl bringing fourth our baby. Now, I am not competitive, but I am not going to just sit back while there are things I can be doing needing to be done. Then there was the other gay couple. Hmmm. Similarities can be detrimental. But, one of them is an "actor". I dared Chad to ask what he had seen him in, but no bite. He left midway through the day for an audition. Can't help but think of the deductions the judges would give him for that (yes, the Olympics are currently on). Finally, a vanilla couple in the corner from Pacoima. Not much to say. He is in finance. I don't remember what she does. Eh. Not on the radar.
Friday was nothing short of incredibly overwhelming. We were given what Chad has deemed "the $20,000 binder" that will act as our user guide for everything we could possibly need to know about this process. Then the staff began their tag team approach to scaring the bejeebus out of us. The home study will not be adequate unless we are able to move all cleaning products from under the sink to somewhere out of the reach of children - like the attic, I think. We have to invest in a lock box for all of our medications and vitamins, also to be stored in the attic, or more preferably in an off-site storage. And our beautifully remodeled fireplace will need to be re-fabricated and covered so the child doesn't run into the glass and fire. Hey - the cats only did it once before realizing fire = hot. We learned about how to build the ever important Birthmother Letter and subsequent website. We were told it would take about 2 months of back and forth edits to finish the letter and get an approval for final proof. Apparently they didn't know that creative writing is a passion of mine. I will have to educate them. Break for lunch.
We returned to learn about who the birthmothers are.
Average age: 22-23
Relatively uneducated, but there are many in college
80% do not use drugs or alcohol (turns out the requirements to complete the program are too intensive for many drug abusers to complete. Ironic, as this weekend was leading me to really want a glass of wine.)
up to 20% of those who have used alcohol are "initial users" which means they may have had some social drinking experiences prior to realizing they were pregnant.
54% are Caucasian - next closest is Hispanic at 9%.
Twins occur in a similar proportion found in the general population: about 2%
only 4% end up changing their minds when they give birth.
Very few require financial assistance.
Nearly all are covered under some form of health insurance - whether it be her own, her parents, or medicaid.
By the end of the day, we had had so much information thrown at us, I honestly couldn't tell you what the last hour consisted of. I could tell you that I am fairly certain my ass had been numb for nearly 2 hours and I couldn't feel parts of my legs. Then came the homework. Yes, I did perk up at that. I could have sworn I had graduated and sworn off school forever. But, homework always stalks you apparently. We have to read two books. I am not sure if there is a quiz. I am going to read the books. I always do.
Then came the drive home. Remember how I kind of boasted about only having to drive 25 miles to our upgraded accommodations? Well, it was Friday. At 5 pm. In LA. I was near delusional. Thankfully the GPS offered traffic guidance and route recalculations. What the GPS doesn't take into consideration. Driver safety and an algorithm to factor socioeconomic dynamics and crime statistics into these routes. We unknowingly avoided the freeway traffic - thank the good Lord - by taking the first exit directly into the heart of South Central LA. Yeah Inglewood. Terrifying. However, we learned where McDonalds and myriad of fried chicken joints make their money. Nearly two hours later and narrowly avoiding multiple drive by shootings (maybe. Probably not), we made it back to the house. I needed to stare at a wall. And not think. The best compromise we could derive: the Opening Ceremony for the 2012 Olympics. Dulled the brain perfectly. However, it was an impromptu geography lesson. Now, I pride myself in my knowledge of geography (please reference the fact that I have had to educate many people about the fact that Alaska is not, in fact, an island. And Egypt, most definitely is part of Africa), but I had no idea many of these countries existed.
We returned the the offices on Saturday relatively refreshed. We enjoyed a nice breakfast at Denny's by the airport, because, if we can't sleep by the airport, we should at least rub shoulders at some of the finest dining W. Century Blvd has to offer. The morning was quick. We met a birthmother. I was astounded by her ability to withstand a tremendous uphill battle at such a young age and still remain totally selfless and give the gift of life to another couple. It takes courage. It takes strength. I can only hope that we find such a strong girl. Rounding out the experience was a talk with another adoptive family. I wasn't impressed with the man's ability to speak, which makes it hard to empathize with his story. But nonetheless, it is encouraging to know that people do in fact end up with kids :)
We rounded out our trip to LA with a trip to IKEA. Who wouldn't go to decompress at a Swedish DIY furniture store. We found a few little do-dads to bring home, but nothing like a full kitchen or a bed. I think the only reason was that we couldn't fit a king sized bed frame in the Prius, even if it is uassembled at time of transport.
One of the things we were told to do to prepare for the birthmother letter and website is to get some pictures for the letter. We had some friends over (Hilary and Jerod are simply amazing!) and had a mini photo shoot. Lesson of the day: you women are quite impressive at blending your make up. I had to put some cover up on my face as a form of air brushing, and apparently my blending techniques are not up to professional standards. We got some awesome pictures and we are very excited to get them up and going on our marketing products.
As usual, thank you all so much for supporting us with encouraging words, volunteerism, and willingness to find random children that we can nab for action-based photo ops. You are all amazing.
Thank you for taking this journey with us!
Travis
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