So, in front of me sits a file folder filled to the brim of paperwork. Our dossier. A 30+ page document (and four copies of it) including letters from our doctors, Derrick's employer, the police station, and friends (as reference letters) as well as our homestudy, a letter from us to the Ethiopian government stating we understand we will need to send reports every so often with pictures to them as updates on our adopted child, our birth certificates, marriage certificate, and a letter explaining our desire to adopt a child (under 24 months, 1 child or 2 biologically related children open to special needs- gotta get the wording right!), plus a few more things, all notarized and ready to go. I have to say, I thought getting all those papers was going to be really difficult. Written out, the directions are overwhelming. "The notary has to sign their name exactly as it appears on the stamp. Their stamps can not expire within six months from the date they are signing the paper. Do not make color copies. Do not paperclip or staple. Do not have marriage or birth certificates issued more than a year ago. Have it in this order, this way, with this wording." But, really it wasn't hard for me. I do really well with black and white directions (and my husband is great at making copies and scanning things as needed). But, I've learned adoption isn't very black and white. It's a lot of grey area that freaks me out some. Ok. not some. A lot. In the past few weeks I've read more than my share of adoption ethics blogs and articles. I've talked to more people than probably wanted to talk about this. I've emailed questions and dug deeper with questions. I've prayed a lot. Honestly, I had absolutely no peace in moving forward with this adoption process. Truthfully, we could have had our dossier done almost a month ago but just didn't feel comfortable doing it. But, through amazingly helpful and wise counsel, I was given some great questions to ask our agency. Specific, to the point, bordering on rude, questions. My people pleaser self wasn't so sure about asking these questions. I hate to make people upset, uncomfortable, or even just slightly annoyed with me. But, I have got to know my agency is going to do everything in it's power to match our family with a child who needs us because they have no other options. Not because their parents have been tricked or coerced. Not for a simple, easily corrected issue. I need to know everything is going to be done in an ethically sound manner. There are lots and lots of blogs that you can read about the potential evils of Ethiopian adoptions. I had to be sure that my agency wasn't going to be participating in those issues. Our agency has a shorter wait time than many (which, by the way, is NOT why we chose them, just happened to come with the territory). I had to dig as deep as possible and figure out why and make sure it wasn't for unethical reasons. Honestly, I was sure the shorter wait times meant something awful lurking behind and begun researching other agencies-ready to make a switch if necessary. My heart hurt. I felt anxious constantly. But, I asked hard questions. I asked lots of people to pray. I had great people who work with different agencies ask their agencies the same questions I did- and then comparing the answers, ensuring best practice and ethical foundations. I prayed this verse:
a lot. Thankfully, God has granted peace through answered questions. I'm ready to move forward. With a still very cautious heart. This has always been a step I've feared. It's the beginning of the wait. Everything you can do to get closer to your baby is done. The referral day honestly terrifies me. To see my child will be amazing and wonderful. But knowing I can't even meet them or hold them for probably 4 months (or much more) and then I will have to leave them in Ethiopia, in an orphanage, for 4ish more months until they are home forever will be horribly emotional. It will be painful and hard. I'm going crazy not meeting my niece who was born in March yet. And I get to see new pictures of her all the time, videos some, and know she's in excellent wonderful care with her parents. It is a very real possibility that I could wait longer to meet my baby. Not getting new pictures on instagram all the time, not getting texted videos, and not knowing that my baby is held to eat, rocked when they are sad, or adored by their care takers. What am I going to do when it's my baby half a world away? My nephew is currently in our agencies care center, waiting for a court date- and it hurt my heart today to hear how he spends his average day. I can't imagine how much it hurts my sister-in-law.* Putting our dossier in the mail is saying I'm ready for that pain to be mine. I'm ready to trust God every single day of waiting for a referral and every single day I know who my baby is and they aren't in my arms yet. I'm ready to pray and love and cry thousands of miles away. I'm ready to (if needed) hire a private investigator in Ethiopia to ensure 'my' baby doesn't have a family who is willing and able to love and care for them. Even more, if we learn that they do have a family-I'm ready to make sure they are reunited. Because God made first families first. I'm ready to trust financially cause we've got a long way to go. I'm ready to be the family that everyone notices and wonders about at the park and grocery store because kids of different color skin all call me 'mom' and Derrick 'dad'. I'm ready to be mom to more than just two. I'm ready to read books, snuggle, and make meals for more. I'm ready to have my house exploding with more noise than it already is.
Oh God, I really am ready. I trust you. I adore your plans and pray for our understanding in them. I am thankful for your timing, your peace, and your love. Thank you for bringing us on this adoption journey, even when it hurts. Even when it's going to be hard.
Pray for all of us, ok? Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
*just for the record, I am sure our care center is a great place, but it is still an orphanage. Many families who have been there have spoken so very highly of it. Simply, it is not a family. It's still not snuggled and rocked and loved on like we would an infant in our home.
