I’m here!  And eat your hearts out, Marylanders: it’s 90-some degrees and sunny.  Stepped out of the airport and it was a far cry from what I left this morning when I stepped into BWI:

So far, Lucy (the other woman I came with, from Kentucky) and I have 1) moved into the house where we’re staying for the week, 2) met the missionary who lives there for this year, 3) met the missionary who owns the house and used to live there, 4) met Rick, our Salvadoran adoption facilitator (who took us to the grocery store and then brought us back “home”), and 5) ordered dinner delivered … from Pizza Hut of all places.  I have everyone’s solemn word that we’ll eat culturally-authentic food from now on, though.

Tomorrow, I’m scheduled to work at one of the government-run orphanages, “Centro Infantil de Protección Immediata” (Center for the Immediate Protection of Children) or CIPI for short.  It’s a place kids are brought when they’re taken from abusive or neglectful  homes while the government child-welfare agency figures out what to do with them.  A lot of them just get stuck there.  It’s also a place for teen mothers to come have and raise their babies when they fear abuse at home.  And it’s a place where handicapped or special-needs kids are brought when their families can’t take care of them.

So yes I’ll be diving right in.  Probably by myself, since Lucy has to be somewhere adoption-related (she’s the director of our agency).  I’ll report back tomorrow night!  (Hopefully with pictures; I just need to make sure that it’s ok to post photos of the kids as long as I don’t identify them personally in them.)

Thanks for your support and prayers!  I’m really glad to be here!  Fairly sure tomorrow’s going to be emotionally tough, though.

It’s been quite the snow storm here in Maryland, and I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get out of our driveway, let alone on a plane to El Salvador tomorrow morning, but turns out I will!

This blessing has been brought to me by some heavy construction equipment and one very stubborn airline that refused to cancel its flights even though almost all the others did, and BWI airport is supposedly “closed.”

So “Thank You, Mr. Front-end Loader” and “Thank You, Delta.”  Also a big thank you to Fred and a nice neighbor, Donny, who cleared a little car’s-width trail with me down our court so that we COULD get out in the morning if we had to.  We’d like to think the county road guy appreciated our help.

And now it’s off to bed with me, since I have to be at the airport at 4:30 a.m.  Groan.  But in an excited-to-be-going-after-all kind of way.

For those who have or plan to donate to Haiti-relief organizations, the IRS has issued a special tax provision to allow you to deduct your cash donations on your 2009 Tax Return.  The provision includes those texted-in donations the Red Cross and many other organizations collected.  The law does not apply to property or goods donations.

Donations need to be itemized on your “Schedule A” when you file, and they must have been contributed to Haiti relief after January 11th and before March 1st, 2010.

If you haven’t yet donated or would like to donate again, the IRS website has an online version of their Publication 78 that can give you a list of local charities or verify that donations to your organization of choice qualify as tax-deductible. 

Outpouring from the U.S. has, as usual, surpassed that of any other country in the world.  But the people of Haiti are still reeling and have a long road to recovery ahead of them.  So if you need one more incentive to give, here it is!

One of the things the boys have to do in their co-op class every Wednesday is give a brief oral presentation to the class.  The general category is assigned, but they can pick anything that fits.  So for “Favorite Things” week:

Favorite Movie (also pictured: ”Favorite Shirt” – somebody wears it every day it’s clean!)

Favorite New Toy

Oh yes we’re obsessed with Star Wars in this house!

One of the comments on Friday’s post left me thinking about one of the paradoxical truths about adoption: that while it can be a beautiful thing, it is nonetheless a thing born out of grief and loss.

Just so you don’t have to flip back to the post, the comment was about how the boys looked happier in their more current pictures than they did in the pictures from the first day we met them.

It made me revisit the story of that day from their perspective.  And of course they look happier now!  There was nothing happy for them that day!  They lost a beloved foster mom, their familiar language, familiar-looking caregivers, familiar food, the bed they’d been sleeping in for eight months, the toys they’d played with, the clothes they’d worn.  Everything changed, all of a sudden.  They didn’t know us.  They’d been told we were coming and had pictures, but they were 2 1/2.  They didn’t understand what that meant.  That they would be handed off to us and never see Xiomara again.  That we’d take them far away on a plane.  They weren’t sure they’d like us or that we were safe.  They certainly didn’t love us.  And here we were, strangers, now changing their diapers and carrying them around, telling them it was time to eat or time to go to bed.  Most of the time speaking in a language they couldn’t understand.

All this on top of losing their birthmother, eight months prior.

I pulled out another picture of that day that really says it all:

I’m smiling.  This moment is the culmination of a year and a half’s worth of a process – eight months of which was spent waiting for these two little boys specifically.  I already love them, and I’m ready to have them.

But Xiomara’s trying not to cry (she broke down in the lobby when I walked out with her).  She really loved them while she fostered them for us, for which we are tremendously grateful. 

Jose’s uncertain but holding on to her, and Bear is indifferent, leaning away from me (because why would he lean in?).

It was Bear who noticed she’d left, Fred said.  He cried while I was still returning from the lobby.  A few hours later, he heard one of the housekeepers in the hallway and went running to the door, calling “Maya!”  (their attempt at her name).  But it wasn’t she, of course.  His big brown eyes stayed “blank” for the whole week as he tried to figure out whether he was going to accept this new Mamá and Papá to whom he’d been handed off.

José, meanwhile, had a complete meltdown about having to take his shoes off at bedtime every night that week – as if he couldn’t take one more thing being taken from him.  He sobbed “zapatos!”  over and over again till we rocked him to sleep.

That’s not to say they were unhappy the whole time.  We have great pictures of big smiles at the Guatemala City Zoo (Day #3 with them), and we did play and run with them all day every day.  And they did follow us around and cuddle up with us.  But it was cuddling up in hope that we were going to turn out to be ok.  NOT the same as now.

So yes, NOW we all look back on the day we met with joy and celebration.  Not only do we all love each other, but we also all really like each other.  But to say “Well, see, it all turned out for the best.”  Or to say  they “have opportunities for a better life here” and to dismiss the Cost… that would be horribly insensitive.  Because we asked for them, we knew what was happening all along, we wanted them.  They didn’t; it just happened to them.  And it was scary, and they will always have little spots in their hearts that miss their birthmom and Xiomara.  They’ll always be Latino men raised out-of-culture, whether they come to care about that or not in the future.

Are they happy and secure little guys?  My goodness, yes, especially considering everything they’ve been through in their short lives!  But does that mean the sad parts of how they came to be here have been erased?   No.

We still brush up against emotional “echoes” of that loss – insecurities, fears, or visceral reactions they have sometimes, when the present situation doesn’t warrant them.  And whenever we talk about traveling back to Guatemala, they always say they want to see Xiomara and their birthmom.  So even though they don’t have a lot of clear memories, they’re still attached to where they’re from and who they’re from.  And I’m fairly sure the four of us will be searching for their birthmom sometime down the road.  Sometime when we’re all ready to handle it if she doesn’t want to see them (we don’t know how she’ll feel).

For them: joy from grief, blessing from loss.  And for us, because we love them: a more mature joy.  The kind that realizes the price of what we have.  And compassion for the birthmom who’s out there and probably wonders if they’re ok.  I would if the story were switched.

So therein lies the paradox of adoption.  Beauty with a little twinge of sorrow thrown in.  Even in the best of cases.  Even years after the fact.  Is it worth it?  Definitely.  But it’s not the “happily ever after” it’s sometimes made out to be.  Much more complicated, but somehow more valuable for all that.

Just finished this book after hearing it mentioned in a sermon at my aunt’s and uncle’s church over the New Year’s weekend.  John Ortberg tackles the topic of how much we “play life to win” but mis-interpret what “winning” is.  We miss things along the way, opportunities and relationships we have in the present, because we’re so busy focusing on the “next big thing” we think we “need.”

His writing style is easy to read and witty, yet he gets his point across.  One of the images I’ll take with me for a long time to come is an exercise he does when leading seminars.

He points out that on grave stones or in obituaries, we see something like this:

                                               [Name of Person]

                         ______________ – ______________

None of us has any say about our birth; our parents don’t ask us if we’d like to come.  It happens to us.  Likewise, none of us knows our “end date.”  Some day that, too, will just happen to us.  The one thing over which we do have some decision-making power is the dash mark.  And the question he poses is “What will you do with your dash?”

Lest it sound like the book is a morbid mess, it isn’t.  Quite the opposite: it’s inspiring.  But he does write the whole book with the truth in mind that we are finite beings, we do eventually leave this life.  And despite how we may try to fight that reality by anti-aging interventions, accumulation of stuff, or whatever it is for us that makes us feel significant in the temporary sense, those things fall short.  Our “game” ends, and we will (most of us literally!) get “put back in the box.”  But there are other places we can invest our energy that do last beyond our earthly existence.  His encouragement is to start shifting our efforts there now, rather than waiting till ____________ (fill in the blank with the good excuse or significant milestone we want to achieve first).

This book is going to be a re-reader for me, and I’ve already started my campaign of nagging Fred into reading it.  Check your local library (or buy it … I personally just prefer to let the public library system do my storing for me). 

Well worth the time spent.

Were they to read that heading, BOTH of the twins would protest that they’re not babies.  But they can’t read much yet; nor are they allowed on the Internet by themselves for blog perusal or any other activity.  So “yea!” for me; I can get away with it this one last time.

Today is our kids’ 3^rd “Gotcha Day.”  For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s the third anniversary of when we “got” them, the day we first met our sons.

January 22, 2007.  Even when I’m old and senile, I’m pretty sure I will not forget that day.  Two little men came toddling into the lobby of our hotel in Guatemala City, clutching their foster mom’s hands with one hand and photos of us in their other.

Tiny two and a half year olds (the size of one year olds by U.S. growth chart standards).  Huge brown eyes, chubby cheeks, dark brown hair, bow-shaped lips.

And when they stopped in front of us, they looked down at their pictures, up at us… then up some more, since we’re so tall compared to what they were used to in Guatemala … and declared “Mamá.  Papá.”

And so our names were assigned to us by our own kids.

It’s the adoption equivalent to the just-after-birth moment.  Not everything sank in right away.  We felt like we were just the babysitters or something for the first week.  And they didn’t know what was going on.  No, it was a long while before “We + They” equaled “Normal.”

But that was the day that we became a united family.

So every year on January 22^nd, we look back and celebrate.  We let them pick how we celebrate, each time, so this year we’re going to Medieval Times, since they’re really into knights and battles… and eating. 

And every January, I pull out their “treasure boxes” which I filled with souvenirs from that trip, pictures, the outfits and shoes they were wearing, and the first toys we gave them that day.

Then we grab their scrapbooks and re-read their stories.

Amazingly, they can still fit into the outfits.  Yes, the pants are way too short and their tummies show, but the only ridiculously-tiny items are their old shoes.  Any year now I’m going to have to settle for the “hold them up in front of you and smile!” shot, but not yet.  Still, how quickly three years have passed.

On the other hand, though, it seems like they’ve been with us forever.

“Happy 3^rd Gotcha Day!” to two of the greatest loves of my life.  I’m so glad God gave us the privilege of being your parents.  You are more than we ever could have dreamed of in sons.

Los amo con todo mi corazón,

- Mamá

What is a dossier?

An adoption dossier is the set of documents required by a foreign country in order to be considered to adopt there.  Not ever country requires one, but most do. 

U. S. domestic adoptions do not require a dossier.

Submitting your dossier is the first official step in that country.  Usually, you have to submit some portion of the country fee (the amount of money that country collects from prospective adoptive parents in order to process an adoption) with your dossier.

Submitting a dossier does not guarantee that you will adopt a child.  Each country has the right to decline a family’s file.

What’s in a dossier?

The specifics vary from country to country, but some standard requirements for U.S. citizens adopting internationally are:

• Original birth certificates for all family members (including existing children)
• Original marriage certificate (for couples)
• Certified copies of state and FBI criminal background clearances
• Immigration approval (797-C or similar), stating that USCIS (U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services) has approved you to bring a child or children back to the U.S. [Note: this approval letter will state on it how many children you are approved to adopt.]
• Proof of income/financial security
• Photos of your family and home
• Reference letters
• A certified Homestudy Report that specifically approves you to adopt from that country, a set number of children, and with evidence that you will be good adoptive parents.
• Certified reports from your doctors that all family members are basically healthy and capable of bringing another child into the home.
• Name affidavits for both spouses (certified lists of every name you’ve ever gone by on any official or unofficial document)
• Power of attorney letter (giving the in-country legal team/attorney representation of your case there)

Tips for Compiling a Dossier:

1. Use as few notaries as possible.  Many countries require apostilled dossiers.  Every document must be notarized, then authenticated at the county courthouse in which that notary lives, then apostilled at the state house in the state in which that county is located.  So using a dozen notaries could mean going to a dozen different county courthouses for those county certifications.  Sometimes you won’t be able to help it, but as often as you can, take your documents to the same notary.
2. Pay attention to details.  Make sure the notary dates her or his stamp with the same date on the document.  Dossiers can get kicked out of consideration for things like that.  Make sure you have every document required before submitting your dossier; they’ll get kicked out for missing items, too.  Basically, your dossier is your way of putting your best foot forward in another country, so be picky.
3. Call your agency with questions.  Lots of people (like me!) have experience with adoption, but requirements change frequently, and you are paying your agency a good amount of money to help you out with your adoption.  So rather than polling others, ask your agency what they want to see before they submit your dossier to another country.
4. Get a FedEx/UPS/other shipper account.  It’s a lot of work getting your documents compiled, stamped, sealed, blessed by the powers that be… you want to know where your documents are whenever you have to send them somewhere.  So don’t just put them in the mail and hope for the best.  Track ‘em.  It’s worth the cost just to have the peace of mind (and accountability).
5. Gather as many items as you can during the Homestudy phase.  Some of the items (like the doctors’ letters and the criminal clearances) are required both for the initial Homestudy and also for the later Dossier.  So get them at the same time, if possible.  It’ll save you a second time of running around to acquire them.
6. Make a checklist.  It will help you know where each document is in the process, which ones you still need, and which ones are done.  It’s heartening to watch the list fill out – a good visual reminder that you will get through it all!

Haiti is (justifiably) getting the lion’s share of news coverage right now.  But Guatemala and El Salvador were also shaken by an earthquake on Monday – a magnitude 5.8 according to the U.S. Geological Survey .  With its epicenter located in the ocean to the south of Guatemala City and west of San Salvador, the quake rocked rural areas in both countries.

Thankfully, unlike Haiti’s quake, this one occurred 64.2 miles underground, and no serious injuries or damages have been reported.

It was on January 18th three years ago that we got the call to head to Guatemala City immediately to finalize the boys’ adoption, so their birthmom and foster mom were already on my mind when I read the news, yesterday.  They both would have felt this quake, so I’m thankful to be able to lump them into the “no serious injuries” category.