Choices

Last night I lay in bed thinking about the photo I posted of baby N from Thailand.

N was the youngest of three sisters that I fell in love with during the course of our family tracing and reunification project. One of the very last projects post-tsunami.

N and her sisters were Burmese. So they were illegal. undocumented. marginalized. invisible. They did not receive the services they should have as the Thai families were assessed and offered government help immediately after the tsunami.

Three years ago, N's mom was just 22 years old. Her oldest daughter was 7.

Her husband an alcoholic.

N's mom was wasting away.

She did not have the option to give her child up. I don't think it would have even crossed her mind. She held N constantly-I never saw the two apart.

Baby N slipped through the cracks and died without any fanfare just a week after our project wrapped and I went home to the States. I was told that mom took her two girls and returned to her family in Burma which was the plan we had helped her to make prior to leaving.

I spent many hours over the course of many weeks in really crappy public hospital waiting rooms with that little family of women. Mom never spoke one word aloud. She whispered yes or no to the translator. She just sat and stared straight ahead. Her eyes were completely empty. I remember that she carried baby N to the squat toilet with her - she never would put her down or hand her over for a break. She was clearly exhausted.

There were a few times when we thought mom and baby had rallied but in the end, when I last saw them in another hospital waiting room (no hospital would actually admit them since they are undocumented migrants), N had wasted away to just 3 pounds at 6 months old. She slipped. She was gone. Is it odd to say that she was at her most beautiful just before the end? She was breathtaking and perfect.

Is this what women of the world are reduced to? Child marriage. Abusive husbands. Zero power. Zero ability to ask for help. Voiceless. Disease ridden. Ashamed. Carrying their dying babies until their last minutes on earth?

We talk about these stories from Africa but I promise you this is a world-wide epidemic. The female burden. I wonder if it is ethical to share these pictures on a public blog? But then I think about how this mother's story would have never been told if I weren't writing it today. I probably own the only photos of baby N ever taken. She represents millions upon millions of others.

I have no answer other than this: we need to recognize the women of the world. We need to stand in solidarity. We who have power and resources need to offer women options that work in many areas of their lives. We have to offer more than adoption.

I say this with all the transparency of a future adoptive parent. I want a child. But I do not want to take a child from her mother's arms. I just don't. N was beloved. N died. I cannot find a way to bridge that gap and make everything right if only I could have just taken her for my own.

Is it courageous that some women choose to give up their children? Yes. Can I stand to hear stories of women begging foreigners to take their babies because they can't fathom that anyone will help them keep the children alive? No. We talk a lot about choice in adoption but the tragedy is that there are not nearly enough choices offered to most mothers in this world.

So. What now? I feel convicted by my own story. Baby N reminded me of a piece of humanity I have let slip a little in this endless wait.

I don't want baby less. But I so want every mother to have the right to keep, nourish, sustain, and love her own child. That should just be a basic human right.

~A

My Thai Life

End of January and I feel restless. Working from home I am watching the gray sky, skeletal trees, and crusty snow outside the window. I admit to peeking at homes for rent/sale in Thailand today for a tiny break.

I blame this 'end of January restlessness' on a pattern that has been created over the past 3 years. It is a pattern of travel that has whisked me out of the hateful U.S. winter and into three amazing overseas experiences. All took place in February. My least favorite winter month. Now I feel I have a right to just leave in February!

In honor of that first year, and the most amazing experience of my life, I will write about Thailand.

(Bang Niang boatyard-J helped on the larger boat)

Three years ago today I was packing to move to Thailand for 5ish months. I remember the suitcase and hiking pack lying open in our bedroom in DC. I was determined not to forget a thing or end up feeling rushed with the packing. Bit by bit the bags filled up with with essentials for life in southern Thailand: flip flops, cotton skirts and khaki pants for work, sunscreen and bugspray, lots of books to read, immodium AD.


Snowstorms kept sweeping through the east coast and my February 14th departure date was pushed back to the 15th. (It was a nice Valentine's Day gift.)

I had been to Thailand before. I taught ESL in Bangkok for a summer between my Sophomore and Junior years of college. I knew that it would be hot, uncomfortable, smelly, crowded, and did I mention HOT? But when I arrived for this 5 month consultancy I quickly realized that I was having a new and improved, adult, Thai experience. I was staying in a lovely air conditioned hotel with international buffets. I was traveling by air conditioned taxis. I was treated to great food in premier restaurants for the Chinese New Year. Mmmmm. So good to be back as an adult.

(Thai junk food that I lived on in college - cha dam yen cold tea and sticky sweet rice.)

It was a life-changing five months. I was operating in my dream job. Working for my dream organization. I was trusted, allowed to manage the pilot project in the way I saw fit, manage my staff (and let some go when I needed to!), and live independently but with enough money to make it very comfortable.

And did I mention that this job was located in rural southern Thailand? Otherwise known as Paradise.

After a few days of meetings in Bangkok I flew with my new team to Khao Lak. The area one hour north of Phuket (world class tourist destination) that was hardest hit by the tsunami two years earlier.

(My beloved little baby blue house - see Talay peeking over the green pillow?)

I remember my first night in Khao Lak. Living in a guest house near the beach with my team - before we found our own local housing. I walked down the sandy road to the water. It was still tourist season and the resort terraces were filled with laughter, twinkle lights, and the smell of cooking seafood. I stood down on the endless sandy expanse and threw my head back to stare at the stars. It was glorious. I had never felt so lucky.

(The elephant photos-taken in Chiang Mai - Best Day Ever.)

It was sometimes lonely though. Often uncomfortably hot or annoyingly rainy. It was challenging. It was hilarious in hindsight but frequently bitterly annoying in the present.

It was poignant and emotionally demanding. Dogs came into my life. Dogs died.

A baby came into my life and that same baby quietly left this life.

Looking back I can see how God used that heartbreaking time for good in our own adoption. Baby girl had the same (life threatening only if left untreated) condition we have requested in our adoption referral.

Adults/coworkers/tourist aquaintances came and went with shocking frequency in such a short period of time. And while all of the coming and going swirled around me the days and minutes crept by, made slow and sluggish by the unrelenting heat.

It was lonely at times but it was exhilarating. It was the most beautiful place I have ever been. I was fully alive. I spent sunset walking on the beach almost every evening. When I needed a break from it all I took my scooter down the road to Le Meridien resort and drove in pretending to be a guest. These solitary breaks with a beach chair, soft towel and fruity drink kept me sane.


I went to a Burmese wedding. I made two friends that I will have for life. I learned how to order gas for my car in Thai. I drove a manual (giant) truck on the left side of the road with gusto. I became tan and thin and warm. I learned to open coconuts on my house gate and drank a lot of fresh juice. My tongue became strong enough for red chilies. I got stung by a jellyfish and laughed it off. I learned the subtleties of managing Thai and Burmese staff when you are neither subtle, or Thai or Burmese!


I did not save any children as the name of my organization would suggest I should have been doing. But I did a good job on the project and left knowing that we had accomplished what we set out to do. And I saved one small golden puppy who is sitting by my side right now.

(Top-the puppy lost. Below-the puppy saved.)

It is hard to believe that three years have passed. I was a tiny blip in the huge post-tsunami response that spanned approximately three years. And I know that many people gave up a lot of time and resources to be there for much longer doing much more impactful work for a lot less reward.


But I can claim a tiny piece of Khao Lak/Bang Niang as my own. And I miss my lifestyle there. I miss watching J (who took 6 weeks leave of absence to join me for awhile) create pieces of furniture from bamboo rods in our little covered driveway. I miss my tiny Shangri-la and my view from my office window.


Life was lived so fully that year. There was nothing more I wanted and I miss that feeling. I miss the wild drive weaving through the hills and jungly countryside between Khao Lak and Phuket. I miss the challenge of navigating Bangkok for my monthly meetings. I miss the ease with which I could hop on a plane to anywhere in southeast Asia.

(An awe inspiring trip to Angkor Wat in Cambodia with J.)

I remember the last flight. The last flight from Phuket to Bangkok and the taxi ride I took to my hotel for my last round of meetings. The song on the radio "take me home, my country road, to the place, where I belong..." It was ironic. It was nostalgic. But the consultancy was over and I was no longer needed. I was desperately ready to go home. But desperately wishing to stay forever.

I didn't know I would be back to Bangkok exactly one year after I had first arrived, but that is a story for another day...

~A

Exciting! Crazy?

I thought back when I was 23 that I wanted a baby. (Mostly triggered by nightime hormone induced dreams of being pregnant.) I thought the same at 24 and 25. But really I wanted the idea of a baby. I wanted a distraction, cute baby clothes, a shower, playdates. I wanted to choose a baby name. I wanted all of the things that really mark the difference between being pregnant and wanting to actually parent. I know that is true because the baby desire went into hibernation once we moved to DC, once I was in graduate school, we were traveling the world, and life was fun and flexible. I was really thankful the baby dream had not come true. I think the "baby dream" is similar to wanting a wedding and truly understanding the concept of marriage.

Do you want to know how I know we are ready to be parents now?

I know because last night we (and by we I mean J was fully on board) became a certified emergency foster home.

When you are truly ready to parent and nurture and deal with all of the difficult details of caring for a child and loving them through everything...when you become ok with the idea of your cream colored living room rug being destroyed and puke possibly ending up on your beautiful couch...when you know that dinner will now need to be served at a regular time every evening and that you may be consigned to 2 minute showers...then you are ready.

J noticed the news about Haiti 2 weeks ago and had concern about the orphaned children very early on. We know that children will probably not be brought to the U.S. for foster care. And we know that children need to be processed through tracing and reunification efforts now in Haiti. We support the international community in following well established guidelines on caring for children after complex emergencies.

But I think something about the entire situation struck a nerve with both of us. So many people in our country are so very willing to care for Haitian children if they were to come here. But there has always been a huge need for foster homes. If everyone interested in fostering Haitian children would become certified as foster homes for kids in their areas, well, wow! that would be amazing for the foster care system.

We didn't have to do much to turn our international homestudy into certification for foster care. It was easy! Next week we will sign the final papers, take our first aid class, and then we will be put on a list as foster parents.

We offered to be an emergency home for either gender up to age 3. Our area has a very large Spanish speaking population so my Spanish might come in handy.

I feel a great sense of peace and calm about this. Why struggle and struggle to overcome the desire to nurture and have a child in our lives when we can easily offer ourselves in this way while we wait for our daughter from Ethiopia?

I don't know if we will get a placement. But it could happen at any time day or night. Children come into foster care for all types of reasons. We would be the first home in an emergency and a placement could last 1 week - 1 month, or more if we chose. Ideally the child would be united with extended family or placed in a long-term foster home (with a family willing to adopt if needed after the whole process of reunification or termination of parental rights took place.)

I am eager to see what happens.

I think there are a lot of what ifs and contingencies and possibilities involved but for now we're answering a call we feel strongly about. And for me this is an answer to years of prayer about J's attitude towards fostering. I was a foster care caseworker for the first 2.5 years of our marriage. I know what a difference a good foster home, even a temporary one, can make.

Exciting! Crazy?

~Amanda

Back to the Past

Exactly one year ago I was packing to leave for a two week trip to Ethiopia.
I went to visit projects that promote and enhance family or community-based care for orphans and vulnerable children.

It was an honor, really, to see the amazing work of Ethiopians caring for children.
It was an honor to create relationships that keep me connected to Addis Ababa.

I looked at the calendar tonight and I can't believe one year has gone by. I can't believe that I have been to Ethiopia twice in 2009 and that next time I'm there it will hopefully be to meet our daughter.

When I whine and complain about the dripping of time I forget sometimes to take into consideration the way that one year has flown by. That this time last year, as I packed for Ethiopia, the thought of adopting from Africa had not even crossed my mind....

~A

Friday Blues

I am the only person alive who never thanks God it's Friday.

If you are confused by why please refer back a few posts to drip drip drip.

Yesterday two more people announced their referrals on facebook. Seriously?
Not comparable of course. Just because you are #1 at one agency doesn't mean you will get a referral as quickly as someone who is #1 at another.

But I can no longer muster enthusiasm for others. It's over. My enthusiasm is lost in a wallow of self pity. For myself. Yes, I know that is the definition.

I just don't think we are getting a referral. I am feeling very very pessimistic about it happening. I am also very curious about these rumors that Ethiopia is going to begin requiring two trips to adopt. Is that true? Where do these rumors begin?

ALSO, here is a little whine to go with the cheese.
WHY do those of us with our agency have to deal with a 4-5+ month wait after referral? I thought that was "normal" until I was chatting with our local homestudy social worker today. She was shocked! She informed me that every other family they are working with adopting through Ethiopia get to travel between 6-12 weeks after referral. I don't get it. Is there something I'm missing?

On the up side, I am going back to Africa for work in late spring. I previously had avoided that discussion with my employer because I kept assuming we'd have baby here by then. But when we were working on the 6 month work plan last week I realized that it is unlikely I'll physically be in baby's presence in that time frame. Can you believe it? SERIOUSLY?

So I scheduled myself on a work trip to Africa for May. At least it will keep my mind occupied. I'll be in southern Africa - not Ethiopia - in case anyone is wondering.

Well, that is Friday's wine and cheese. :(

No call. No call coming. Here is the weekend.

Jeremy is picking up ta.co be.ll.
Can you believe I have become so paranoid about crazy marketing software that I now have to use periods in my "bell" obsession?

Maybe a little meat free soft taco will cheer me...unlikely but I am willing to give it a try.

~A

Saw this on another blog and enjoyed it

Written in response to P.at R.obertson's comment that God is punishing Haiti for making a deal with the devil in exchange for their freedom a couple hundred years ago.


A letter from Satan
Dear P.at R.obertson,
I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out.
And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I'm all over that action.
But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I'm no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished.
Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth -- glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle.
Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven't you seen "Crossroads"? Or "Damn Yankees"? If I had a thing going with Haiti, there'd be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox -- that kind of thing.
An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it -- I'm just saying: Not how I roll. You're doing great work, Pat, and I don't want to clip your wings -- just, come on, you're making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That's working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.
Best, Satan

I saw this on another blog and thought this was funny.

Haiti

I am so saddened by the pictures and stories coming from Haiti.
So close to us, our neighbors really.
The poorest country in the Western hemisphere.

Why? Seriously, WHY has this happened to them?

It brings me flashes of Thailand and the tsunami. When I worked there, almost two years after the fact, still people were scared. Still there were homes covered in vines, rotting homes and boats, traumatized children and elderly people who would never look at the water in the same way again.

For all of these years studying and working in development I've been able to distance myself. My mind goes immediately to emergency shelter configurations, sanitation issues, how to track separated children and begin reunification. Practical. Because the world needs practical and emergencies require cool thinking and planning ahead.

But there is nothing I can do in development terms in Haiti right now.

So I watch CNN and read blogs and begin to realize that I KNOW a lot of the people on the ground responding. I also KNOW adoptive families here waiting and watching and praying.

Ugh. Haiti hits too close to home for too many reasons.

First of course it makes me panic with a mother's heart that something could happen in Ethiopia. Anytime. You never have a child until she/he is in your arms on the way home. So I feel for the families who want their children brought to the U.S. NOW. I so feel for them. In a way that I never would have imagined had I not been adopting too. I think that if a disaster came between me and my child in Ethiopia I would walk across glass, climb mountains, and illegally cross borders to get to her. I'm scared by the depth of anxiety and protectiveness this has brought out in me. For a child I don't know with my eyes but know already with my heart.

Second I worry about the proliferation of the use of the word orphan to describe children who have been separated (not always orphaned) from their biological family and what that tends to mean. Orphanages. The never ending push and pull between orphanages and disaster. Unfortunately in crisis and natural disaster families get separated. Kids end up in institutions. Resources and interest dwindles as the disaster gets less attention. Permanency plans are never made. Families don't always get reunited. We've seen it happen time and time again in Africa and I'm sure we'll see it happen in Haiti too. Because the call to care for the orphan is strong. And Biblical. And completely understandable. But our ability to see it through back to permanency and family for every child is feable, under resourced, not talked about enough.

So Haiti is ripping me apart personally and professionally. I just can't stop watching.

~A