No News Is Normal News

We are in the phase of our adoption where there's nothing to report that's of any interest to anyone. In the last couple weeks a number of people have asked, "How's your adoption process going?" or "Have you heard anything?" With a pregnancy you don't have any down time where your body's not doing anything. So somehow I sometimes feel like a schmuck saying no, there's nothing to do, nothing to hear. Just waiting. And expecting to wait a couple more months.

Now that our dossier is in Addis (since Dec. 22), we are waiting for the orphanage board to match us with a baby through their G-14 Classified super-duper mysteriously secret individual selection process. This presumably consists mostly of it being our turn to take the next infant under 6 months (which is the age we requested), but they like to make it sound like we're "personally matched" somehow. Since even our U.S. agency has no idea how they do this and other agencies use the same orphanage (it's a large system of centers), it's a surprise to the agency just as much as to us when the referral comes.

That means there's nothing to hear, no updates to be expected. Some parents get bent out of shape about this, but from the agency's perspective I can see why you'd focus your energy on other things than randomly calling parents to say, "Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I don't know a thing and I won't in the future." No news is normal news. They're working on it. Don't panic. (I think the agency-parent relationship is much like the publisher-author or editor-author relationship in some ways, but that's for another post.)

However, "just" waiting, as any adoptive parent will tell you, is not at all easy--though this not-counting thing is working pretty well for me so far. It also doesn't mean we're not doing anything to prepare. I have a to-do-before-baby list that's a mile long! Would you like a sample?

• get Hep A and travel shots
• apply for more grants
  
• child care/CPR class
  
• deal with insurance company re: surgery and adoption clinic
  
• call OHSU adoption clinic about referral review, first checkups
  
• paint upstairs, get bookshelves, move office
• paint, curtains, etc. for baby's room
• plan next garage sale
• buy baby essentials
• read baby care books in desperate attempt to learn what in the world to do with a baby!
  

While y'all are praying for our baby to (somehow miraculously) arrive in May, could you also pray for miraculous productivity and sanity in our house?

Weeks to Weeks, Dust to Dust

We’ve been waiting for 9 weeks.

I gave up counting for Lent.

Half-Distracted

We have been officially waiting for 8 weeks (not that I'm counting...). So we are halfway to the average waiting time of 16 weeks. That doesn't mean we'll get our referral then, necessarily, but it's the point at which I'll allow myself to expect it and start getting jumpy when the phone rings.

The last couple weeks have been pretty easy, but I'm still glad for the distraction of our special guests, all the way from Michigan, Justin and Toshia! This week went fast since to make room for them I had to remove the piles of junk which have been covering my office since before Christmas. (Hey, this room is much bigger now!) They arrive today and before we know it we'll be at 9 weeks down.

Are you enjoying my viewer map on the right side of the blog as much as I am? (Alas, no more Singapore hits since my brother is on his way home.) Identify yourselves, blog stalkers! You don't have to have a Blogger blog or Google account to leave a comment, so please say hi and share your thoughts or blog topic requests.

You read this? You're so smart!

This isn't particularly adoption-related, but I thought it was a very interesting article and research on praising for natural ability versus praising for effort. I suggest you read the entire thing: "How Not to Talk to Your Kids: The Inverse Power of Praise."

For a few decades, it’s been noted that a large percentage of all gifted students (those who score in the top 10 percent on aptitude tests) severely underestimate their own abilities. Those afflicted with this lack of perceived competence adopt lower standards for success and expect less of themselves. They underrate the importance of effort, and they overrate how much help they need from a parent.

When parents praise their children’s intelligence, they believe they are providing the solution to this problem. . . . The constant praise is meant to be an angel on the shoulder, ensuring that children do not sell their talents short.

But a growing body of research—and a new study from the trenches of the New York public-school system—strongly suggests it might be the other way around. Giving kids the label of “smart” does not prevent them from underperforming. It might actually be causing it. . . .

Dweck discovered that those who think that innate intelligence is the key to success begin to discount the importance of effort. I am smart, the kids’ reasoning goes; I don’t need to put out effort. Expending effort becomes stigmatized—it’s public proof that you can’t cut it on your natural gifts.

Thinking about the high school students here, I do see a severe tendency to give up, to think that if they're not one of the favored few labeled smart and college-bound, it hardly matters what they do. They don't have the skills to push themselves, since they don't see reason to put out the effort.

On the parenting side, it's another warning not to project ourselves onto our kids, praising them for only what they are naturally good at--or what we wish we were good at, because it boosts our egos to have a smart/athletic/beautiful/American Idol kid. Children do not exist to make adults feel good about themselves. It reminds me of this saying, which I am trying hard to remember as a particular teenager frustrates me:

It is my job to love her, not her job to love me.

Save your old ¢ell phone$!

Please save your old cell phones and inkjet printer cartridges!

We are beginning to collect these items as a fundraiser for our adoption. A company will pay us for each one that can be reused and recycle those that can't. They can be any brand, working or not working. This will also help the environment since cell phones contain toxic materials. One cell phone can pollute up to 132,000 liters of drinking water!

Our goal is to raise $1000 with this fundraiser. We will need some help! Please spread the word to everyone you know. We can give you some flyers if you like. Could you put a drop box in your workplace, school, or church? We can provide a sign and box. (If you live far away from us, I could arrange for you to send the items in directly with prepaid postage rather than shipping them to me.) Let Wendy know if you have any questions.

Thank you for any donations or help you can give!


Note to clarify: Broken phones can be recycled, but I will only get money for the ones that work (can be reprogrammed to be reused). So if you live far away and have a broken phone, just find a place or person nearby that will take it--they're out there! If you're nearby, I'll take anything. Thanks.

Movin’ On Up!

Exciting news for others in adoption land—two referrals from our agency today, and a total of four in the last week! Three of them have been on the smaller online forum on which most people are using our agency. With not one but two infant referrals today, there are only two or three people/couples waiting for infants who are “ahead of us” on that group (although I’m sure there are numerous others with our agency who are not on that group). We are moving up the wait list just by being on it!

I can’t explain how good it feels to hear of these referrals and see their beautiful pictures. Not only does it feel like we’re getting closer, but I’m starting to get to “know” these people a bit (although I do sometimes think of them as my “imaginary friends”). I guess we all live vicariously through each other. It would be so nice to travel at the same time as someone from the group.

The two who got referrals today had waited about four months; the one last week waited six. The six was somewhat discouraging; the four gives me hope. At least twice a day I calculate on the calendar how many weeks we’ll have been waiting by March, April, May, let’s-not-think-about-it. We would so like to travel by June—earlier if possible so we could make Justin’s wedding in GR, but at least early enough for Aaron to go to Young Life camp in July. If he can’t go, we have no experienced male leader to go! We really don’t know what we’ll do, but God must have a plan, because he sure keeps sending lots of kids to Club.

Stacie is confident that we’ll have our baby in May. We were just hoping to have a referral by then, but hey, we’ll happily have our baby! Anyone else out there with the gift of faith and prayer wanna get on that? I’m praying, but I only have faith every other day or so. It’s not just a selfish prayer for me . . . no, really . . . it’s for the YL kids and all the other waiting families too . . . really!

Okay, it’s mostly selfish.

And I’m so selfish I don’t even care!

EDIT 1/31: ANOTHER referral today! Unbelievable!

Tonight they're gonna Timkat like it's 1999.

We have been officially waiting for referral (to be matched with our child) for 4 weeks. Are we 1/5 of the way there? It has been a fast four weeks but I have still been pretty easily distracted by anything baby-related that crosses my path or jumps into my mind. And it's not because I'm not busy!


Today was the final day of the Timkat celebration in Ethiopia. Timkat is a bigger celebration there than Christmas. It is what we'd call Epiphany, though in the Ethiopian Orthodox tradition it has a strong emphasis on the Ark of the Covenant, which is said to be preserved in Ethiopia, and on Jesus's baptism. Priests dressed in rich robes carrying fantastic umbrellas process with replicas of fragments of the Law called Tabots from churches to a pool or other body of water. The Tabots are blessed and the crowds are sprinkled with water or sometimes dive into the pool as they renew their religious commitments.

You can read about Ethiopian festivals including Timket here:
http://www.myethiopianame.bravehost.com/myethiopianholiday.html

View some beautiful pictures here--you have to see the umbrellas, I tell you!
http://www.peace-on-earth.org/Ethiopia/1st.pdf
(also interesting descriptions here) http://www.flickr.com/photos/andrewheavens/
http://www.exodus2006.com/Axumpic2.htm



By the way, if you're wondering how the Twelfth Day of Christmas can be on January 19 (and not a partridge in sight), remember that Ethiopia uses a different calendar than the Western world. The Orthodox Christmas was January 7. They have 13 months--a tourism slogan is "13 Months of Sunshine"--and the year 1999 started on our September 11, 2006. That's right, you can still celebrate Timkat like it's 1999!

Thinking about Being Thought About

We had dinner at the Drift the other night and for some reason there were at least 3 couples with kids under 1 or 2 years old there. Don't ask me where they all came from! I could sense as I tried to stare at all the babies without looking like I was staring at all the babies (something I do a lot more these days than I used to) that I wasn't the only one; cute babies always attract attention. Then I thought, We are going to get so much attention! I have been expecting that since the beginning, of course, and have heard many stories from other transracial adoptive parents. But for some reason it really struck me that if all of us in the restaurant were ogling those cuties who matched their parents, we are really going to get it with our baby.

Normally I visualize this in situations where I'm comfortable with it--in church, at the basketball game--where enough people know us that after one appearance everyone will know where our baby came from and move beyond questioning to enjoying having a new kid that everyone knows around to admire. For some reason, though, it struck me differently the other night to realize how the normal attention may be magnified. I guess we will find out to what extent I'm right and how it feels when the time comes. (Perhaps if they ask me who's the father I'll say, "Denzel Washington.")

I realize that the article I linked to in yesterday's post was probably a bit academic for some of you (since most of you are, fortunately, less nerdy than me). Here's the short form, what I realized belongs on the list: I have the white privilege of walking into any restaurant on the coast without attracting any attention because of my race. If I had a white baby I would have the privilege of being able to assume any attention I attract is because people are looking at my baby and most likely admiring him/her--without ever having to wonder if it's because of my baby's race or what people are thinking about my child. My child will never have the privilege of blending in as I do in the places I do.

And, due to the added dimension of transracial adoption, we will never have the privilege of not attracting attention or having to answer questions about our family or dealing with unsolicited opinions about who should adopt whom of what color and from where. In a sense by becoming a "conspicuous family" we are voluntarily giving up a few small, small pieces of our privilege.

In exchange for something far greater.

Which is our privilege!

I Have a Dream Today.

Yesterday was Martin Luther King Jr Day. School was closed for the day here, which seems like kind of a joke considering the overall whiteness around here, but I'm sure the two black kids appreciated it (ha ha). But actually, don't we who are less integrated need the reminder more? I confess that although I admire MLK more all the time and have always been interested in civil rights history, MLK Day never seemed like much of a holiday. What does it really mean to someone like me, in my circumstances and with all my privilege? But again, that's why I need it: to remember, and to look ahead. It means more to me all the time and I know it will mean more to me in the future. And that's a good thing, because it's not a good thing to "be able to" ignore issues of race and rights and pretend we're "colorblind"--it's been my loss, not my privilege, for too long. We think MLK Day is for minorities, but they don't need the reminder of where we've come from and how far we have to go--they feel it all the time--we who are in the majority are the ones who need to be more conscious. I am happy to be waking up more and more.

Erin put it well on the Transracial Adoption Blog: "Forty years ago, blacks and whites could not use the same water fountains or restrooms, and today they can be members of the same family."

So does that mean we have come so far, or do we still have so far to go? Do you think people of different races answer that differently? I'd wager yes; as whites we tend to think if we're not telling racist jokes we're doing pretty good. But that doesn't mean racism is gone. Racism is an imbalance of social power, and we are still on the powerful end of that. Thanks to my favorite sociology major, here is a thought-provoking article on "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Napsack."

Read and watch King's "I Have a Dream" speech here. Don't just read the end. Consider it all.

In light of those, I think we still have a long way to go . . . but for my child and all God's children, I have a dream today.

All of this for . . . ?

"By April 15, 2006, the U.S. government had spent, according to congressional appropriations, $275 billion on the war in Iraq. According to the National Priorities Project, worldwide AIDS programs could have been completely funded for twenty-seven years with that amount of funding."

—Melissa Fay Greene, There Is No Me Without You

The cost of war will soon be $358 billion, and all that I have rendered unto Caesar has failed to provide access to lifesaving health care for dying children nor any of the 358 billion other things I'd rather have purchased with that money.

I'm irritated today because the government and I are so much alike: having so much, spending so quickly, yet always seeming to need more. When will I learn? When will it end?

Can’t bear the news in the evening
We’re going to bed and we're going to war
All of this for
Anyone’s guess . . .
If we forget anything
Heaven forbid someone would remind us . . .

Over the Rhine, "Remind Us"

Don't Give Up Africa

People of the world . . . don't give up Africa.

Don't give up, Africa.

Merry Christmas, Ethiopia.

Officially Waiting/Showered

This update is officially overdue, but there was holiday fun to be had, and it was good to the last drop. Since we last left our paperwork . . .

• the agency reviewed our dossier and declared us able to follow instructions (everything was done right)
• two papers traveled to Washington, DC, for federal authentication, and back
• our dossier left Portland on December 19 and arrived in Ethiopia on the 22nd!

That means that as of the 22nd we are officially waiting (yaaaay!). Unfortunately, we will probably be waiting for 4 or 5 months (booooo!). I hope it’s not longer, but it could be. When we turned in our papers I actually felt a day of a post-dossier letdown: grumpy that the wait times have increased so much and knowing we can’t do anything about anything from here on. But we have so much to do before our baby comes and we live a pretty busy life anyway that I hope the time will pass quickly. Yeah . . . check back with me on that one in May. You just might want to make sure I’m unarmed first.

The preparations have begun, though, in small ways. Since my mom is already about ready to explode with grandmotherliness, she and Beka arranged a baby shower for us while we were visiting in Michigan. I thought people might not be able to make it at Christmastime or find it weird with no “due date” in sight, but it was a packed house! Truly the best gift was having all those friends and family there. But we also received wise and hilarious parenting advice, cute and useful baby gear (small items we could bring home, and my brother and sister-in-law had a baby swing shipped), and gift cards to buy baby stuff at Target. (Mmm, I love Target—Mom and I also had a good time zapping baby gear with the registry gun.) Thank you, friends!

Just because we’re done with paperwork doesn’t mean I’ll stop writing, so check back soon for blogs on our Ethiopian food experience, hints on name choices, musings on motherhood, and more.

Dossier--French for DONE!

50 notarized papers. 2 authenticated documents. 2 letters. 6 sets of photos. Yesterday we took our completed, notarized, authenticated, triplicate, quadruple-checked dossier to our agency! We are DONE with the paper-chasing and the notarizing and the nickel-and-diming fees per copy.

First we had to go to the Secretary of State’s office in Salem to get two documents authenticated. I believe they are basically confirming that the notarization was valid. Honestly, I didn’t even look at the seal and paper they added! I just stuck it in my bag. The whole thing took about five minutes and cost the easiest $20 any paper has cost so far—the last one is always more fun!

Next we made a quick stop in Target to scout some baby gear, which I’ll get into in another post. Then up to OHSU for Aaron’s eye appointment, but his appointment somehow wasn’t in the computer and they were busy, so she said we might as well go get lunch or whatever and come back later. We went out to the agency then instead of after the appointment. I declare that Banks, Oregon, is officially beautiful country and a cute town. We (well, I—Aaron still doesn’t have new glasses) could even see Mt. Hood this time as we came back toward Portland and from up by the hospital. I’m glad we got to go to the agency and meet three of the staff. We chit-chatted about traveling to and in Ethiopia and saw some photos and maps. And, of course, left behind a large sum of money (but thank you to those who did help reduce it greatly!).

What happens now? Today two of our documents will be overnighted to Washington, DC, for approval at the State Department and Ethiopian embassy. They should be returned to the agency in five to ten days. Then two copies of our dossier are sent to Ethiopia. This takes four days, and we will get a tracking number so I can obsess over exactly when they arrive and we are officially on the orphanage "waiting for referral" list. Obsessing is a key part of adoption, you know . . .

Oh, and how did we celebrate? With nature's greatest food: pumpkin pie milkshakes from Jack-in-the-Box!

Your Request Has Been Approved!

I went out to the mailbox Friday and . . . We got it! We got it! We got it! I burst into Aaron’s home office room and scared him half to death. But who cares? We got our I-171H!

I know I-171H probably doesn’t mean much to you, but it’s less of a mouthful than “notice of favorable determination concerning application for advance processing of orphan petition.” This is the immigration form we’ve been waiting for so we can send in our dossier, the one I thought might not arrive for two or three more weeks. It’s sort of a pre-approval for a visa to bring a child into the U.S. to adopt.

We have a few things to do to complete our dossier, but we should be able to do it this week. We need to make some notarized “true copies” of this. I need to put the final touches on our letters to the Ethiopian government and orphanage board introducing ourselves and telling what age child we want to adopt and why and get these and a couple other forms notarized. This immigration form we just got and a power of attorney letter must be “authenticated” at the state level—at an office in Salem. Since Aaron has an eye doctor appointment (of course!) on Thursday, we will get that done in Salem on the way up to Portland. Assuming that works out, after his appointment we can go out to the Dove office (about 20 miles west of Portland) and drop off the dossier!

Friday afternoon I posted that we’d received our I-171H in an online forum for Ethiopia adopters I’m in (the small one with mostly people using our agency). Now, I-171H means something to these people—I got a flurry of congratulations. I also called the Dove office to make sure I understood what needed to be authenticated, and they were really excited for us too. It was really nice to share with others who have been where we are. There are some things only adoption people understand.

I will explain the next steps soon, but the hopeful bottom line is this: We could be on the “waiting for referral” list in Ethiopia by New Year’s after all!

World AIDS Day 2006: 40 Million Reasons to Care

December 1 is World AIDS Day. Our world is sick. Our brothers and sisters and parents and children are dying. The Body of Christ--We have AIDS. Take the World Vision AIDS Test to see how much you know about the global crisis.

• Almost 40 million people are living with HIV/AIDS.
• 2.9 million people died of AIDS-related illness in 2006.
  
• 2006 saw 4.3 million new infections, with 2.8 million (65%) in sub-Saharan Africa. (Note: "Sub-Saharan Africa" means all of Africa except Northern Africa, so it includes Ethiopia.)
• 6,000 children are orphaned by AIDS every day. Worldwide, 15 million children have lost parents to AIDS.
• Every 14 seconds, a child loses a parent to AIDS.

Here in the U.S., where HIV is now considered a chronic condition rather than a death sentence, these numbers mean so much that to us they too often mean nothing. Who do we know who lost their parents? What town have we visited that has been socially, economically, physically decimated by the death of 10 percent of its population to one disease? No one and nowhere. But in Africa--and increasingly in India, China, the Carribean, and Eastern Europe--these aren't numbers. They are names. They are faces. They are memories. And they are hopes and dreams that might have been.

They are counting on us.

Of the 15 million orphan-reasons to care about World AIDS Day, an estimated 4 to 6 million live in Ethiopia. Whether or not the child we adopt has lost a parent or two to AIDS, in many ways they are all AIDS orphans--for without this plague on the land would be millions more to raise the nation out of poverty, to grow crops, to give health care and education, to take all these children into Ethiopian homes to be loved and cared for. But there are too many.

I have begun reading There Is No Me Without You by Melissa Fay Greene, a journalist who has added two Ethiopian children to her family. She writes of her reaction when in 2000 she encountered the UN statistics of 12 million AIDS orphans in sub-Saharan Africa:

Who was going to raise twelve million children? That's what I suddenly wanted to know. . . . Who was teaching twelve million children how to swim? Who was signing twelve million permission slips for school field trips? Who packed twelve million school lunches? Who cheered at twelve million soccer games? (That sounded like our weekends.) Who was going to buy twelve million pairs of sneakers that light up when you jump? Backpacks? Toothbrushes? Twelve million pairs of socks? Who will tell twelve million bedtime stories? Who will quiz twelve million children on Thursday nights for their Friday-morning spelling tests? Twelve million trips to the dentist? Twelve million birthday parties?

Who will wake in the night in response to eighteen million nightmares?

Who will offer grief counseling to twelve, fifteen, eighteen, thirty-six million children? Who will help them avoid lives of servitude or prostitution? Who will pass on to them the traditions of culture and religion, of history and government, of craft and profession? Who will help them grow up, choose the right person to marry, find work, and learn to parent their own children?

Well, as it turns out, no one. Or very few. There aren't enough adults to go around. Although in the Western industrialized states HIV/AIDS has become a chronic condition rather than a death sentence, in Africa a generation of parents, teachers, principals, physicians, nurses, professors, spiritual leaders, musicians, poets, bureaucrats, coaches, farmers, bankers, and business owners are being erased.

The ridiculous numbers wash over most of us. This is happening in our time? . . . How can the rest of us—normal citizens, steering along our paved streets between home and school, work and playground, mall and hardware store, holding open the front door with a foot while maneuvering inside with the mail, the grocery sacks, the purse, a paperback, the children's backpacks—how can the rest of us break through?
....
Adoption is not the answer to HIV/AIDS in Africa. Adoption rescues few. Adoption illuminates by example: these few once-loved children—who lost their parents to preventable diseases—have been offered a second chance at family life in foreign countries; like young ambassadors, they instruct us. From them, we gain impressions about what their age-mates must be like, the ones living and dying by the millions, without parents, in the cities and villages of Africa. For every orphan turning up in a northern-hemisphere household—winning the spelling bee, winning the cross-country race, joining the Boy Scouts, learning to rollerblade, playing the trumpet or the violin—ten thousand African children remain behind alone.

"Adoption is a last resort," I would be told in November 2005 by Haddush Halefom, head of the Children's Commission under Ethiopia's Ministry of Labor, the arbiter of intercountry adoptions, "Historically, close kinship ties in our country meant that there were very few orphans: orphaned children were raised by their extended families. The HIV/AIDS pandemic has destroyed so many of our families that the possibility no longer exists to absorb all our Ethiopian orphans.

"I am deeply respectful of the families who care for our children," he said. "But I am so very interested in any help that can be given to us to keep the children's first parents alive. Adoption is good, but children, naturally, would prefer not to see their parents die."

I do not adopt to stand on a soapbox. I have in fact had my soapbox enough years now that I may even have learned a bit about where I should and should not set it (a child's crib is no place for it). But as I take up this new vocation of parenting, as my heart's hunger meets the world's deep need, as I perhaps have your eyes on my words and your heart on my child--yes, I will speak of AIDS, I will connect the dots, I will tell the truth on World AIDS Day: Where you live should not decide whether you live or whether you die. I, you, we can make a difference. Keep the promise--stop AIDS.

Beneath the noise
Below the din
I hear your voice
It's whispering
"In science and in medicine
I was a stranger
You took me in"...

I've had enough of romantic love
I'd give it up, yeah, I'd give it up
For a miracle, miracle drug
A miracle drug

--U2

Snow Falling on Clear Cuts

A quick update on our health saga since my mother says it's all part of the story and I should write a book. (Isn't it bad enough I'm writing a blog? Remember what Anne Lamott says: "Not everything that happens to you is interesting.")

This week we journeyed back to Portland on--go figure--Waldport's annual snow day. The ground was barely white at our house or on Highway 101, but just a few miles inland it started getting white, and then the hills became covered. Since the roads over the coast range of hills are windy and steep, I had to go about 35 mph. As the elevation rose, we crossed into incredible beauty--seemingly the land of Narnia (See the witch's castle between those two hills?). The snow stood on every tree, every twig, every blade. The Douglas fir and Sitka spruce stand at attention in perfect formation to cover every hill with perfect triangular boughs topped with perfectly rounded lumps of snow. These Oregon forests in snow are so perfect they almost seem fake; they look like trees drawn by Dr. Suess. All the little Whos down in Philomath must hold hands around that giant spruce they have lit for Christmas every year.

Despite the weather on the coast, the Valley was dry, and we were only 20 minutes late for Aaron's appointment. His lens and retina still look good, but his eye found a new unique issue to fix: When his eye was dialated, his pupil became larger than his lens, and when it started to go down, the pupil actually caught on the edge of the lens, holding his eye dialated. Strange! The doctor gave him drops to constrict his pupil and had us wait for a while to see if it was working. Today it finally seems to be undialated (and uncaught) all the way. So Aaron was given a fifth type of eye drop (to keep his eye from dialating), but he is down to using just two kinds a day now. And his vision is gradually improving. Hopefully after our visit next week Thursday, he will be cleared to get new glasses/contacts.

Life is returning to the Wetzel version of normal. Aaron is getting back to work in his office and getting together with kids. I was able to finally get groceries, a haircut, and an oil change yesterday. We helped decorate the church and will soon get our own tree. We can stop holding our breath and dream again--of Christmas...of seeing old friends...of African skies...of a family of three.

iUpdate

For those who may care and because I feel like whining about it, here is the saga of our eventful past week.

After Aaron's surgery last week we spent the night in Portland, lying in a hotel room, Aaron in the bed, nauseous and in pain, me on the floor with a towel as a pillow, jumping every time he moved. He was feeling awful yet when we went back to the doctor in the morning but they pried his eye open long enough to say it looked good, and he got some sleep on the way home. Over the weekend his vision sort of improved, although not as much as we'd expected (based on poor assumptions that the absence of pain would mean the return of vision). We had a few visitors, and on Sunday Aaron attempted to watch the Lions game (based on the poor assumption that they are in fact a professional football team).

Tuesday we had a scheduled appointment to see Dr. Flaxel for a follow-up. His retina still looks good and she was pleased with how much his vision had improved (even though he wasn't!). He will need glasses, but not nearly as strong as in the past. She explained what's making his vision cloudy now--basically blood in the eye--and things like why it seems worse in the morning sometimes. It was the end of the day by then, so she said, "I've got a conference call at 6:00--any more questions? I have 45 minutes!" She was teasing Aaron; she was happy to take the time. It was nice to hear her say how many Marfan's patients she's seen too, both here and in England, where whole families tend to stay put and all go to one main hospital. Our insurance company is moronic if they can't soon comprehend why we went to her instead of "in network." Anyway, we felt great about the visit despite the fact that driving through torrential rain made it an exhausting 9 1/2 hour round trip.

But after that good report came a lousy day. On the way home Aaron felt like his eye was bothering him, but it was so dark and rainy even I could barely see, so it was hard to tell. Wednesday morning he got up early for our YL meeting and could barely see--really sensitive to light, feeling pain, severe fog. Called the doctor's office and they said it wouldn't be the new drops they'd given him; it was most likely the sutures but they should rule out an infection. So at 7:45 we headed NW again . . . in weather that felt like driving through a car wash . . . arrived at 11:00, waited for Dr. Flaxel to get out of a surgery, waited for Aaron's eye to dialate . . . Dr. Flaxel still couldn't see in very well, so we waited for an ultrasound. Yes, they do this much like there's a baby in there.

Dr. Emerson, who helped with the surgery and follow-up came in and looked at it and said it seemed to be bleeding from the sutures, not anything major. He drew for me how the new lens is attached and said probably when they dialated Aaron's eye Tuesday, that caused the iris and eye in general to move and work in different ways and irritate the sutures and cause them to bleed. (Don't worry, these sutures are inside the eye--we are not talking about blood coming out at all.) The blood floating around in the new vitreous layer they put in gets in his field of vision and makes it cloudy. It was clearing up, but now more got in. He recommended sitting upright as much as possible and prescribed a new eye drop--number four--to keep Aaron's eye dialated all the time so it won't be bothered by dialating and undialating.

We left there at about 2:00. Traffic was bad. We needed food. Aaron could hardly see so restaurants and restrooms were not much fun. (I've sure been in more men's rooms lately than I'd like.) With the traffic we knew we'd be getting home late so I thought to call the pharmacy and make sure they weren't closing early for Thanksgiving and that they had the prescription. They didn't have the drops so they'd have them Friday--that's no good. So I called the doctor's office to have them call the prescription in to the larger pharmacy in Newport. Based on our Rite Aid passport photos experience we should have known how that'd go: they didn't have the order when we got there. So I called the doctor's office and they said they'd page Dr. Emerson, who incidentally appears to be a member of Clark Kent/Superman's family tree, but he never takes off his glasses to reveal his true identity. After 10 or 15 minutes I decided, screw this paging system, Dr. SuperBoy gave me his personal cell phone number for a reason, I'm calling him. He spoke to the pharmacist and made sure they had what we needed. After that nice 40-minute delay, we made it home at 7:00.

You see, I've gone to the Valley once a week for the last 5 weeks. Usually I go every six days (Monday, Friday, Thursday, Wednesday, Tuesday), but this week we thought, Nah, 9 1/2 hours of driving in one day isn't enough. Let's go the next day too so we can drive 17 hours in one 36-hour period! And then let's go back in six days! Michigan people, this is like driving from Grand Rapids to Detroit or Chicago. That would have seemed nuts to us when we lived there, but we're somewhat used to it now. Sometimes it really is annoying being so far from a big city and these specialists, though. Especially when driving through a stinkin' monsoon. (At least I have been able to enjoy some real fall color.) But perhaps Stacie is right: God knew we'd need Dr. Flaxel and actually put us close enough to find her.

What would be really nice would be if we would receive our immigration form in the mail so we could drop our adoption paperwork at our agency on one of these trips--and this blog could get back to talking about our family instead of me whining about doctors and driving! I promise I will get back on subject soon--as soon as I am done administering blue-, pink-, purple-, and red-bottled eye drops four, six, three, and two times a day respectively. Good practice for being a mom?!

Surgery Report

Good news from the Wetzels--well, the one who is awake . . .

Aaron's surgery went very well. They did not have to do anything to the retina. Praise God! Thank you all for your prayers! They took out his lens and the vitreous layer and put in a new lens. Hopefully his vision will be much better and other than being a couch potato for a couple weeks his recovery should not be too bad.

Please do continue to pray, though. Aaron had a hard time coming out of the anethsetic (nausea meds made him more tired) and the pain was quite bad. After trying a couple different things the meds seemed to start kicking in. The drive from hospital to hotel was pretty bad for him, though, and he fell asleep immediately. I'm not sure how long he can expect to have some pain. We have a follow-up with the doctor at 8:15 a.m. Please keep praying for protection for his eye as he recovers and indefinitely, as there is no guarantee retina problems will not come up later. But for now I am relieved, grateful to you all for your love and prayers, and thanking God for always watching over us.

Wendy

Prayer Request - Eye Surgery

Please pray for us this week.

Aaron is having eye surgery on Wednesday. His vision has been badly affected lately by the lens in his right eye being mostly dislocated. It blocks his vision and makes strange shadows. They will remove the lens and implant a new one. That procedure is relatively routine, but Aaron is a high-risk case. First of all, he already has no vision in his left eye due to a detached retina, which is a common problem with Marfan's syndrome (because it affects the tissues which hold it in place). The risk of surgery is that it could disturb the retina and cause it to detach (now or sometime down the line).

The doctor hopes that while she's in there the retina will look good enough that she can avoid doing anything to it at all (in which case Aaron's recovery will be nice and easy). But if it looks too loose she may try to strengthen the connections. Pray that the retina looks good and is not bothered at all by the surgery.

Surgery is Wednesday; we're not sure yet what time so we will probably go up to Portland on Tuesday night. We will spend Wednesday night in a hotel in Portland and go back to the eye center for a check on Thursday morning.

On Him we have set our hope that He will rescue us again . . . so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.

2 Corinthians 1:10-11

Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Relent, O LORD! How long will it be? Have compassion on your servants. Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, for as many years as we have seen trouble. May your deeds be shown to your servants, your splendor to their children. May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us--yes, establish the work of our hands.

Psalm 90:12-17

Please Vote! (It's not what you think.)

Citizens, mobilize! It's time to vote! No, not for politicians. That's over for while (oh, how we miss the 15 phone calls per day). Please vote for my new funny photo on FunnyPhotosContest.com. I could win $50 to go straight into our adoption fund account.

Go to this site: http://funnyphotoscontest.com/gallery2.html and vote for photo B3. It's a couple of pirates we know, who of course never use silverware. (But why are they so grumpy? They just ARRRRRRRE!) Vote only once or my photo will be disqualified!*

Thank you, pirate Benny, for dinner the other night and for your sweet comment here last week. We have missed you and were so glad to see you!

RMM, your little pirate should be on the cute photos section!

I've had many thoughts but no time to post them lately--sorry. I will be posting again soon, though, so check back.

*Even though it's a huge flaw in the system, I would never, ever support voting more than once for the currently winning photos to disqualify them...Shame on you for thinking of that!

Home Study Complete!

Yesterday we received in the mail final notarized copies of our home study report! We have officially passed the test. I zipped to the post office to get one copy up to immigration so they will process our I171-H form (which is kind of like a pre-visa for your child). The bad news is that our social worker and people online tell me this is taking up to two months right now! I'm not sure if the fact that we have already done the required fingerprinting will make any difference. I'm not usually one for asking God to bend the laws of nature or government for little ol' me, but . . . praying that when some fine civil servant opens my envelope, they for some reason actually heed my little note and put ours on the top of the stack since they already have our prints . . .

Two months--ugh. I can't believe we might not have our dossier in to the agency until Christmas when I wanted it in by October. It wouldn't matter so much but we are also hearing that referral wait times for our agency (as every other agency) have increased because of the explosion of interest in adopting from Ethiopia. I think that's wonderful, of course, but being pregnant without a due date is hard to plan life around. April or May travel is looking more like June. Still, maybe referrals will speed up when the backlog in the Ethiopian courts clears up (they close for at least a month at end of summer). And there are good things about having the school year winding down and having a little longer to prepare to be first-time parents and to raise funds . . . at least that's what I'm trying to tell myself!

Speaking of funds, we keep receiving garage sale items, so another sale will happen but probably not until spring. A huge thank-you to the relatives who sent a gift to Dove on our behalf! If any of you know Bill Gates, you can tell him all he has to do is send his gift there with a note that it's for Wetzels and they'll kindly give him a tax receipt. Or he can send money to keep our church running--but that's an UGH for another time and place.

Meanwhile, time to go admire photos of other people's Ethiopian babies . . . er, I mean, time to get to work!

Help Me Win $50!

Adoption is expensive. My husband's face is funny. Bring these two things together--help me win $50 in a funny photo contest! Go to this web site and VOTE--but ONLY ONCE or you will disqualify my photo:

Photo B12 on this page: http://www.funnyphotoscontest.com/gallery2.html (Ain't he cute?)

And photo C1 on this page: http://www.funnyphotoscontest.com/gallery3.html (Miss you, James!)

I have many more where those came from . . . I will get the $500 bonus someday!

Home study update coming soon (much like the home study itself).

Fingerprints / World Orphan Week

Our immigration fingerprinting appointment went so fast it was comical. We drove three hours, found the nondescript building a few minutes early, filled out a simple form, chatted up the bored guy at the desk, and went to the next desk. He checked my papers and told me to sit down. I sat down for five seconds and a man said, "Forty-two?" Oh, that's me! Aaron didn't even sit down at all; his guy was waiting for him. They scanned our fingerprints on nifty, ink-free, CSI-like machines and gave us comment cards to fill out (I suggest they provide their fine employees the luxury of some windows). At 2:05 we were headed back to the car. Good thing we had that appointment.

October 2-8, 2006, is World Orphan Week. War, poverty, and disease claim the parents of so many children who end up in orphanages or adopted.

The situation in Africa and other developing places is more staggering than we as rich Americans can fathom. AIDS is producing a flood of millions of orphans--a child is orphaned by AIDS every 14 seconds. In a few months we will meet many of them; perhaps we will bring home one, but only one.

From an Ethiopia update I recently received from Compassion International: "Nearly half its population is under age 15. . . . But a perfect storm of tragedy--HIV/AIDS, war with bordering nations, and poverty--has converged to rob the nation of its adults. Parentless children are usually taken in by extended family, but there are so many Ethiopian orphans that even that safety net is strained. The government estimates it costs $115 million a month to care for orphans. That price far exceeds the $140 million a year it spends on the country's entire health system."

Today I feel too rich.


World AIDS Orphans Day: May 7

Ethiopia Everywhere

Everywhere we go, people tell us stories about Ethiopia--so it seems at times, anyway. Last summer the weekend after we returned from Michigan, our guest pastor from Presbyterian missions told us stories about Ethiopia (and other places) and blessed us in Amharic. (Did you know there are more Presbyterians in Ethiopia than in the U.S.?) That cinched our decision to adopt from Ethiopia.

Two weekends ago the main speaker at our Young Life leadership weekend was director over many of the international YL groups. First picture he threw up on the screen was of an Ethiopian Young Life Club. We are going to see if we can perhaps visit them while in Addis. And I really want one of their t-shirts. Some info on YL Ethiopia and photos can be found here.

Here is an interesting article on household characteristics in Ethiopia. Some stats from the survey:

• Only 8 percent of households reported having drinking water on their premises.
• 14 percent of households have electricity, but this varies widely by place of residence. Only 2 percent of households in rural areas have access to electricity, compared with 86 percent of urban households.
• Slightly over three-fourths of households have no bedrooms or have only one room for sleeping.

Now we're headed to Portland to see the Feds--they want our fingerprints. Nothing like 6 hours of driving for what I can only assume is a 15-minute process.

Mildly Annoyed

Looks like turning in our dossier is going to be held up, but not because of us. We still need two documents and to write two letters and have it all notarized, but I was going to have it done this week or next. I'm just procrastinating because other things have been calling my name and because even when we get our stuff done, we need our completed home study and a form from the immigration office before we can turn in the dossier.

At the beginning of last week I called Social Worker S. to see if the home study was coming--it should have been coming, from what she'd told me (already taking longer than we expected). But she realized we hadn't gotten fingerprints for the state which they need because we've lived in state less than five years. We went to the sheriff's office to get those last week and sent them off with the criminal check form. Emailed SWS today to see how long it might be now; she called and told me she'd have the home study written up next week (we're second on her list--again/still?) but the prints/check from the state can take a month.

That means that even though we are driving to Portland Tuesday for our immigration fingerprinting appointment, they won't have our home study for probably three more weeks. And until they get that they (presumably) won't start processing our I-171H which could take six to eight weeks (per SWS). It's no one's fault that takes so long, but that clock would have started ticking this Tuesday (or sooner) instead of three weeks from now if we'd known about and done those state fingerprints long ago.

So the vague timeline in my head seems to need adjusting back one month--perhaps travel in May instead of April--and it is a wonder I am only somewhat annoyed with SWS. Of course I know that I am only guessing on our wait time between dossier and referral anyway and that God's not saying, "Oh no! They're going to mess up the plan I had because they won't get the right referral!" No, I will choose to take it on faith that this slowdown was needed to have us ready when our child is, still, "born at the right time."

Sale of the Century!

We finally have our garage back after the sale of the century Friday and Saturday. The last two weeks have been insane. I had rush work projects, appointment in Corvallis, ads to get in the paper, broken van brakes, my first paintball experience, and friends and strangers calling and giving me all kinds of stuff for our adoption fundraiser garage sale. The collections included:

• a carload plus a truckload from people I'd never met up in Alsea
• a carload from a friend's coworker in Yachats
• a garageful from Janice
• a refrigerator we finally figured out how to get over here
• the kiddie pool Jessy had left in Aaron's office (complete with water and rubber duckies)

By last weekend we could no longer park in the garage. By midweek we could no longer get to the laundry. By Thursday the items were overtaking the house, and that wasn’t even counting the several chairs and bags of clothes of our own I was adding to the pile.

A huge thank-you to Karen for keeping me sane and helping me get organized starting Wednesday. We pulled everything out into the driveway, semi-sorting it as we went. After school some kids came to help and we girls started putting things on tables in an organized fashion while the guys took forever and a day to pick up the refrigerator (only minor injuries sustained). Thursday Karen and I took care of last-minute tasks in town, then Aaron and I continued sorting and pricing. We had to get more tables from church and recruited Kerry to help make signs with her paint that would survive rain—yes, rain! It hadn’t rained here in oh, two months, but guess when it was due to roll in? Friday! This had me panicky since it wouldn’t allow us to just throw everything out on the drive/lawn and call it good.

Friday morning it was cloudy but dry at setup time. Nancy brought her crazy canopy we’d used in Mexico, the one that explodes out at you to set itself up but takes seven people 45 minutes to wrestle back into its box. That worked nicely for electronics and guitars, which Terry and Aaron wheeled and dealed into a good bit of funds. I’d advertised to start at 9:00 but at 8:40 here they came . . . and once one’s looking, the rest swarm! It was quite chaotic as we were still pulling things out and not everything was priced and I was trapped taking money while answering a thousand questions. It settled down, but then we got a short rain shower that sent us scurrying for tarps. Thank you Nancy, Kerry, Terry, and Karen for maintaining order and being great sales clerks! We definitely could not have pulled this off without you!

Once we got settled, the sale was the fun part. We had put up signs indicating this was for our adoption so lots of people asked us about it and congratulated us. Some were curious about the process or how we chose Ethiopia (see our FAQs). Many told us about people they knew who had adopted internationally or that they were or had adopted. I felt like we got to know more of our community members—and now they all know about us!

And now for the only thing you are really reading this to find out . . . the grand total! Total profit: $1471.15! (Yes, it’s in the bank. Don’t come rob us.) That is a lot of money for a lot of junk! Sure, we have a long way to go with funds, but what a great start. Again, thank you to all of you who helped out with the sale and donated items to sell!

Overheard in Waldport:

Woman at sale: “Waldport could use a little color!”

Dossier Productivity

We are making good progress on gathering our dossier paperwork. This week we got one letter of reference and employment letters from church for Aaron and our accountant/tax preparer for me. On Friday we had planned to make a day of getting several things up in Newport (nothing brings freelance work pouring in like having appointments to keep).

Our day involved getting the car ignition looked at (yep, it's messed up), getting passport photos taken at Rite Aid, picking up photos and other things at Wal-Mart and Staples, going to City Hall and learning that the courthouse is a different building (oops), and going to the courthouse and requesting our criminal checks, house deed, and passports. Unfortunately, they noticed that our passport photos weren't done right, so we had to head back to Rite Aid. Now we know why my dad calls it Wrong Aid. As we're driving up and down the hideous part of Highway 101 that's all strip malls and fast food (like 28th St. in GR), the bank sign tells me its 95 degrees. Since 75 is a warm day here and 85 is a heat wave, plus I was hungry and annoyed with Rite Aid, I was getting kind of cranky. But a snack from McDonald's and a free drink from Rite Aid to go with our reprinted photos and I felt better.

Back to the courthouse we went, and the nice lady got our passports finished up. I felt pretty dumb taking that oath with my right hand raised and my left hand on my checkbook, but whatever makes Uncle Sam happy. Then she said, "Now you just have to get your blood drawn at the lab and bring that back . . ." Aaron said, "WHAT?!" He fell for it big time. But she was just yanking his chain and truly very nice about it all, as was the woman across the hall who had the criminal check letters done by the time we checked back (at least the Rite Aid delay was good for something).

The day yielded 2 major documents plus the passport applications. That's a good feeling! Unfortunately, when we learned we would not be assigned a passport number until our passports actually come, we realized we had to pay $120 extra to have them expedited so we can get the number to put on another letter that goes in the dossier. Ah well, at least we will not have to order another copy of our birth certificates since we'll get the copies that went with the passport application back in two weeks. But the birth certificates would have been cheaper. See how confusing all this is? Expensive, too. I laid out $408.95 in two days.

While we were out chasing papers, the couple we met recently who were waiting for their referral got it! He's three months old and his name means "Be a hope." Like us, they are young and it's their first child, so I'm hopeful we'll get a very young referral too, as our social worker said was likely. Every referral story and picture makes it seem more real!

Question for the day: What should we do to celebrate when we have the dossier complete? (Bonus points if you can come up with something cheap, for obvious reasons!)