Monday, January 31, 2011

In over my head.

I am here to tell you: Mandarin is hard!

I tend to have a "it's no big deal, I can do it!" attitude about stuff like this. It's brazen, I know, maybe to the point of hubris. It usually serves me well, but five minutes into my Chinese class I thought, "Uh oh." The real bad news is that there are a few people in the class who have taken it before... And they are still in the first intro class! This spells bad news, all around. I'm really interested in the language and culture, luckily, so I'll persevere, but it's going to be a looooong ten weeks.

I'm still pretty antsy to start the adoption paperwork, but we have another round of tests coming up with the fertility clinic next week, and that will inform our choices in the next few months on exactly how far we want to go with this whole thing. Probably not far, but gathering the information is at least doing something. The waiting is killing me.

There are so many days that I wonder if we made the right decision, but the reality is there isn't a right or wrong in this case. In a perfect world, we'd already have a child and would be deciding what to do about having a second. Sadly, this is not a perfect world. The issue, for me, is that I can hear that ticking clock like a freaking marching band drum line in my head. Wait, I don't think that's loud enough. Maybe it's more like 100 taiko drums beaten on the same rhythm. It's frustrating and every day older I get, the more I feel like I'm missing something. I don't know if I feel like I'm missing experiences or just losing my youth, but it's aggravating and driving me to distraction.

I've even joined a gym to help distract myself.

Yes. It really has gotten that bad. (Though joining the gym has a second purpose. I need to lose weight because China requires both parents to be under a certain BMI. I have no idea what it is or how close I am to it, but better safe than sorry. I needed to lose the weight a long time ago anyway.) I am trying to fill every waking second with stuff, things, activities, so that I don't dwell and obsess. It's not really working, but I am really tired at the end of each day. I'm staying up later and later and getting up earlier and earlier, but the only result is that I am super busy and super tired at the same time. Maybe I need a new tactic.

I'm also feeling like I need to do all the "fun, young married couple with no kids" things now, so I am daydreaming about trips to Europe and a new mattress. (We already got the ridiculous new TV.) We're refinancing our mortgage and tying up loose ends on debt, all in an effort to be as financially prepared as possible when the time comes. I guess it's a good thing we're waiting a few more months. It would be really tough to be working full time, refinancing the mortgage, doing all of our other "adult stuff" and trying to get adoption paperwork done.

But still, June can not come fast enough.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Diversionary tactics.

Since we decided to delay the adoption process until we could qualify for the Waiting Child program, I've been feeling antsy. On the one hand, six months isn't really that long to wait. On the other hand, I have friends who are having babies now, and it is so difficult to voluntarily put the brakes on our adoption process. Sometimes I feel like we could be almost done with the home study, so why did we decide to wait?! It's really frustrating, even though we chose this path for many good reasons. My impatience stems not only from wanting to be a parent now, and from already making the decision, but also from that damn ticking clock in my head. Let's face it. I'm not old, but I'm certainly not getting any younger. And waiting at least two solid years to finally bring home our child is so. Damn. Hard.

Enter diversionary tactic Number One. Language classes. There are several resources in our area for learning a foreign language. Adult education classes is one, but then a friend mentioned the Graduate School. This school is apparently run by the USDA (I have no idea why...), and has relatively inexpensive courses - for college credit if you want - in all sorts of subject areas. Including Chinese. Mandarin Chinese, specifically. It looks like I can still sign up for the Winter/Spring semester and take class starting this week.

So every Saturday, from January 26 through April 9, I'll be taking Introductory Mandarin. I love learning foreign languages, so this is already something I'm excited about. But more than that, it gives me a way to feel like I am being proactive in my quest to adopt. This, in turn, makes me less likely to obsess about every detail of the process, and avoids driving both me and Allen crazy in the next six months. Win-win, all around.

The only down-side is that I'm eating into my already precious free time. But, hey. I won't have any of that left once our child arrives, so I might as well get used to it, right? And, as an added bonus, the classes are at L'Enfant, which means knitting on the metro. Score.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

How babies are made.

"Mommy, how are babies made?"

"Well, sweetheart, when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much, they go see a doctor."

...

This is not exactly what I had in mind when we started discussing family. But after talking to doctors and hearing anecdotes of women scheduling their c-sections and such, I almost wonder if this isn't the direction we're headed as a species. I don't know whether to be proud of us (as a species) for the advancements we've made, or horrified that we've jumped feet-first into the lab without knowing all the ramifications. I'm leaning towards proud, but I have to admit a bit of personal paranoia on the subject.

We saw a fertility doctor today. It's kind of funny that though I always expected to have a bit of trouble conceiving, I never, never, never thought I'd end up talking to a fertility specialist about IVF. I tend to be a little hypochondriac about medical stuff (ask my Mom how many times I told her I had a brain tumor as a kid), but it always turns out to be nothing. (No brain tumor.) I'm a bit gratified to be right about something, but totally pissed that it's this. Couldn't I have just had West Nile instead of a cold that time?? Obviously, I'm kidding. But this is frustrating so I feel entitled to make jokes.

The first step is another round of tests. Blood work, again, but more sensitive than the tests my OB/Gyn did. Hooray, more needles. </sarcasm> The good news is that an FSH level of 10.1 isn't terribly troubling. This is really good news. She said she would maybe be more worried if we had never conceived and I had a level of 12 or something. Basically, FSH is your brain telling your ovaries, "Hey! Time to make some eggs!" As you get older, your brain has to speak up - your ovaries become hard-of-hearing, apparently. So, elevated hormone levels mean your brain is having to shout, which means your ovaries ain't as young as they yousta be. (I'm not sure why ovaries are crotchety old southerners...) At any rate, my doctor said my hormone levels indicate some age-related infertility, or at least a decline in fertility. But overall, I'm still under 35, my hormone levels are really borderline and the prognosis is good. Getting to the "good" part might require some work though...

Given that, she went to IVF fairly quickly. But really, it seems like there are two stages to infertility treatment: fertility drugs (and various methods of insemination - sorry for the ick factor, but there you have it), and IVF. There are a few different combinations of fertility meds to try, but basically the whole thing boils down to: try meds for 3-6 months and if that doesn't work, IVF. Not exactly what I was hoping to hear.

 Actually, I'm not sure what I was hoping to hear.

Our doctor seemed very concerned with making us aware that IVF was a good thing. A good alternative. As it turns out, 16 year olds have a 20% chance of getting pregnant each month, whereas normal adults under age 35 typically have about a 15% chance each month. With IVF, otherwise healthy adults have a 50% chance. These are good odds, statistically speaking, but the realities of IVF are too much for me. You have hormone injections and monitoring and such, fertilize embryos in the lab, implant a few, hope at least one takes... And the cost. The average at our fertility clinic is $10,000 per attempt. And given their statistics, at least 50% of couples who do IVF aren't successful the first time around. Emotionally, I can't get involved in IVF. And financially, well, I'd rather put that money into adoption.

The doctor also seemed pretty interested in us getting genetic testing done. We declined for several reasons. First, we're not doing IVF. So testing embryos for genetic abnormalities is not something we need to worry about. Second, I'm not really sure all the potential future ramifications of having your genetic predispositions on record somewhere. Maybe it's not a big deal, but maybe we'll end up like Gattaca. Kind of paranoid, I know, but I just don't want to go there right now. Third, and probably most important for me, is that getting this kind of testing done opens the flood gates for any future pregnancy. If we are genetic carriers for some kind of disease, then we will be more likely to have testing done while pregnant. And if it turns out that our unborn child has some kind of genetic abnormality, what then? I just don't want to discuss the potential ramifications of that. If we had a biological child with Down's Syndrome or whatever else, we would still love them and be grateful to have them in our lives. Aborting a not-perfect fetus so we can try again is not an option for me. The emotional bill is higher than I can afford. Our doctor said "knowledge is power," and while I generally agree with that statement, right now I feel like, with genetic testing, "ignorance is bliss."

I've felt that way a lot recently. The more you find out, the more you have swirling around in your head every day. It would almost be easier to just be that couple who never had kids, instead of knowing that there is something wrong with me. On the other hand, I have to be grateful that medical science has progressed to the point where we can more easily control our own fertility. And I know there are literally thousands of women out the who are so grateful to have these options and who have had positive outcomes. I'm just not sure it's something I want to pursue. I'd love to get pregnant. I'd still love it if it required a bit of help to happen. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'd be happy/relieved/excited/ecstatic no matter how it came about. But right now, I'd rather focus our attention on adoption and leave the doctors out of our marriage.

So, step one is more testing. Step two is unknown right now. It kind of depends on the test results. But step two is most likely Clomid (or other fertility drug) for 3 months. Then... Frankly, I'm not even positive that I want to go much farther down this path. Tests? Fine? Clomid? Erm... Maybe? IVF? No. This is part of the reason we ultimately decided on the Waiting Child program - it gave us time to explore the fertility issues to their logical conclusion. Our doctor thinks this means a pregnancy. I think it means a few more tests and that's probably it. Fertility doctors are in the business of helping women get pregnant. Period. They are a bit more proactive (or aggressive, depending on the doctor), because age is the single biggest factor in fertility. And fertility doctors are becoming fairly mainstream nowadays. Around 3% of all babies born in the US are conceived with the help of a fertility specialist (according to our doctor). This is encouraging and hopeful, but I'm just not at that place. Maybe when I hit 39 I'll be signing up for IVF, but not now. I'm waiting for my baby, but I'm pretty sure he'll be born in China sometime in the next year, and I'll meet him (her?) in 2 years.

See you then, kid.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

The man, the interview, the book that changed my mind about International adoption.

Scott Simon.

You may know him as the host of Weekend Edition on Saturday on NPR. I don't personally know him, but he is the man responsible for my complete and utter reversal on the issue of international (specifically Chinese) adoption.

Here is the interview he gave on NPR's "Fresh Air" about the book and his two amazing daughters. Fair warning: it will make you cry. (Here is a second, shorter interview on NPR that will also make you cry. It's just beautiful and heartbreaking and hopeful, all at the same time.) This interview led two separate friends to tell me about (and in one case purchase as a gift for us) Simon's book, "Baby, We Were Meant for Each Other: In Praise of Adoption."

This book has literally changed my life. When we first made the decision to adopt, we decided to go into a pool of potential parents at an agency and adopt domestically. I ruled out international adoption early on because I had the (mistaken) impression that foreign countries, particularly China and Russia, use adoption as a way to rid themselves of undesirable citizens - girls and disabled children, to be blunt. While I still think Russia is not a great place to adopt from, I was so, so, so wrong about China.

Let me say that I don't know the official Chinese government policy or belief about adoption. But what I learned from Simon's book is that these young women risk prison, forced sterilization, repercussions for the rest of their family and other unimaginable things in order to birth these children. China's single child policy is draconian and brutal. There is no way around that. Chinese culture makes boys highly preferred to girls, for various reasons. As a result, China actually will be facing a shortage of girls in the not-too-distant-future, and I think some of the ramifications of one child and preferring boys are already being felt. The bottom line is that is illegal to bear a child in China without approval.

According to Simon, these young women give birth and then travel far away - up to hundreds of miles - from their homes so as not to be identified. They then place the infant (girl) in a highly trafficked area and hide - across the street, behind a tree, etc - and wait for a stranger to pick up the abandoned infant and take it to the police station. I may have strong opinions about China's governmental policies, but I have nothing but respect, and empathy, for the women who risk so much to bring these children into the world, in the hopes that they will one day find a better life.

Simon's path to adoption seems fairly typical - "traditional" babymaking wasn't working and got too be too emotionally draining. It's not as though he and his wife had some magical journey that no one else has. And yet, they did. They had the same experience as thousands of other adoptive families have, and yet it was uniquely their own, just as it is for everyone who adopts. Whether you adopt domestically or internationally, infant, toddler, tween or teen, "normal" or "special needs", there is a magical moment, a transformation that occurs. You look at your child and realize that (s)he is yours. That your family is, in a sense, complete. What is brilliant about Simon's book, aside from the eye-opening education in the realities of the single-child policy, is that he is so honest about all of the doubt and the second-guessing that adoptive parents go through. He normalizes it and made me realize that these feelings are not unique to us, and that they still have a happy ending.

One of the most memorable things he said in the interviews was "There is no Hallmark moment when they put your daughter into your arms." You are, at that point, just another stranger, someone who is disrupting the only life and routine they've ever known, and it is "obnoxious" as Simon put it. But the other side of that coin is that there is an immediate transformation. You walk into the room as a couple and walk out as a family. That little girl (or boy) may not know it yet, but you knew the minute you laid eyes on her - she is your daughter and you will love her more than you ever thought it was possible to love another human being. Simon does not sugarcoat the process. It's long, it's expensive, it's emotionally exacting. And it doesn't stop when you bring your child home. There are challenges to parenting, and these challenges can be amplified for adopted children. But beneath all of that is Simon's absolute and undying love of his little girls. It felt like he was whispering to me as I read, "this will happen for you, too."

Simon shares vignettes from other adoptive families as well. The book is focused on his two daughters and how he and his wife became parents, but there are stories that encompass every possible way to become an adoptive parent. Some are ecstatically happy, some are heartbreakingly sad, but all are powerful, all are transformative, and all underscore the inherent ability of the human heart to expand and envelop a new life, even one that is biologically unrelated.

This book, aside from heavily influencing our decision to adopt from China, has underscored and reaffirmed my belief that love, not biology, makes a family. So, thank you, Mr. Simon. We've never met, and likely never will, but you have profoundly affected our lives already. And a copy of your book will be in our child's keepsake box.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

The other unpleasant side effects.

Having a miscarriage is devastating. Emotionally, physically, all around. You are so close to attaining your goal - a family! - and it all comes crashing down around you.

What makes it worse is that everyone around seems to miraculously get pregnant. I don't have enough fingers to count the number of friends and acquaintances who are either pregnant or who have had babies in the last year. I have learned, the hard way, that it isn't always as easy as it seems and I try to keep that in perspective, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't frustrating. I've been a bit reticent to discuss this publicly, because I come off as bitter and a jerk, when it's not my intention - or my personality, I think! Anyone who has had difficulties with fertility will immediately recognize what I'm saying. Anyone who has been fortunate enough to not experience infertility, well, maybe this will help explain why someone wasn't as happy/excited/involved as you expected them to be. Making the best of what you've got sometimes meaning acknowledging the parts of yourself that you'd like to change for the better. This is one of those things for me.

While I am incredibly happy for everyone I know who has gotten pregnant, sometimes I feel like it is. So. Unfair! The childish part of me screams "stop hogging all the babies!" But the rational, adult side of me realizes that this is, well, not mean spirited, but at least ungenerous.

So if I have seemed a little less enthusiastic about your newborn or your pregnancy than you would have expected, I want to offer my sincere and deepest apologies. This time it really is me. Not you. It's not that I begrudged you your happiness, or felt that you were taking something from me. It's that the loss and absence was made all the more inescapable because of the presence in your lives. I'm much better about it because we are so terribly excited about adoption. Changing your focus works wonders for your psyche. I'm starting to get in to the groove of baby showers and gifts and names because I know we'll be there soon. Probably sooner than we expect.

Now that I've got some perspective, I really do want to say how happy I am for all of you who have had, or soon will have, new additions to your lives. I hope to join your ranks soon, but in the mean time, I'll dote and squee over your little misses and misters and be genuinely, ecstatically happy for you. There might even be a hand-knit baby sweater in your future.

Monday, January 10, 2011

The decision is made. For now.

We've decided to wait. We're going to start the paperwork for the Waiting Child program in China in 6 months. This is the hard part - the waiting. Our reasons seem logical to us, but really, we're guessing and going on gut feelings.

First: Adopting through this program will mean an older baby - say 18 months or so. But we could find a child up to, say, 3 years old. Since this child will have more self awareness and more memories than an infant, we feel that the transition will be easier if there are no other children in the house and we can devote 100% of our time and attention.

Second: This child will have a special need of some form, and will need extra care and attention, even if it's only extra pediatrician visits.

Third: Our new child will likely be a bit behind, developmentally speaking, and will need more care than a "normal" child of that age. This is a byproduct of being raised in institutional care. No matter how good it is, there is simply no way to nurture all of the needs of any one child in the institution. We also will likely be dealing with a language barrier. Even if our child is not speaking yet, (s)he will have heard mostly (if not exclusively) Mandarin or Cantonese and will not necessarily understand English.

The other benefit to waiting a bit is that I'll have a chance to follow up with a fertility doctor and find out what exactly "FSH levels too high" means. I'm pretty positive that I'm not going down the IVF path, but having some extra information couldn't hurt, at this point. I think. Though the main problem with knowledge is that once you know, you can't un-know. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. 

Since we can't start any of the paperwork until this summer, I have devised several ways to keep myself from going crazy during the extended waiting period. I'm going to start researching common birth defects seen in this program, and start thinking about the treatments and other requirements. I'm also going to start looking into language immersion classes for both adults and children. Ideally, I'd love to learn some Chinese now, but I don't know if I need to learn Mandarin or Cantonese... That's a question for the agency, I think.

We know our timeline now, so we'll also be socking away as much savings as possible. I'd like to take at least one more big trip - maybe Japan again? - before we go down to one salary and up to one child. And we'll also need to save up for a trip for two to China to pick up our little one! I'm really excited, and the wait is going to drive me crazy, but I know that in 2 years (or less) we'll have our very own baby! And realistically speaking, it could take that long for a domestic adoption to go through. Hopefully, I'll have something interesting to post about during the next 6 months. Other than "still waiting", at least. Tune in to find out! :-)

Friday, January 7, 2011

The year of being thankful.

Last year was measured in the ticks of the clock between tears. In the hours consumed by waves of sadness. In the months that separated us from sad events. I remember thinking that if I could just make it to the next first of the month, that would make it easier to accept Oliver's death. Or that if I could focus on knitting or quilting or painting or holiday card making, that I could compensate for my body's inability to sustain the thing I wanted to create most. Last year, 2010, was the year of living from moment to moment. Of surviving. Of not letting the overwhelming grief wash me away. Allen was my life raft and I clung to him for survival. I'll probably never know how hard last year was for him. Watching his wife struggle against crushing grief while all he could do is stand by and hold me or make dinners. He was my anchor.

I knew that I needed to snap out of it. That Allen deserved better than someone who was barely functioning. He deserved a partner and a fully functioning human being. But getting to the point where that was a realistic goal was a long slog through the trenches of my grief. I realize that I sound a bit melodramatic, and I feel guilty for it. I realize that I was unbelievably lucky to have the support and love. I didn't have to scrape to figure out where my next meal was coming from, or watch family members gunned down in violent upheavals. My drifting, my feeling of being lost and so, so incredibly sad... These are first world problems, as a friend would say. Loss and grief are universal, but it's also (forgive the Disney cliche) the circle of life.

On New Year's Day, I marked the hour of Oliver's passing with a bit of reflection about the last year and how far we've come since then. I remember very little about that day other than the pot of black eyed peas bubbling on the stove, Allen's frantic drive to the emergency vet, my calm directions to him and to Oliver in between the breaths of air I forced in to his lungs. My pounding on the door of the clinic, the veterinarian coming back out, too soon, to say he was gone, they way his eyes were glossy and the eyelids that wouldn't shut the way they do in the movies. I remember wanting to shout at the vet to get back in there and try again, but I don't know how much made it past my numb lips. God, I miss him.

But I realized that wallowing in my own grief wasn't honoring his memory, nor was it particularly helpful in our every day lives. I owe it to Allen, to myself, to our kitties, to our friends and family, and to Oliver to get back to the business of living. As for the miscarriage, well, time heals all wounds, I suppose, and though I think about what might have been frequently, I am finally at a place in my life where I don't live there anymore. Oliver was tangible. While he wasn't the first beloved family member I ever lost, he was the first that made me realize what a tenuous hold we all have on the illusion of control in our lives, and it rocked me to the core. The miscarriage was less tangible because it was so early, but the pain and emotional fallout were just as real, and probably heightened because the two losses were so close and so tied together.

So, now we are adopting. It's amazing to realize that I went from a literal emotional wreck who had to find a way out of bed each morning to someone who is strong enough and stable enough to even consider caring for another human being. After dragging myself through the crushing darkness, I know I will never go back there again. I have tasted sorrow and it is bitter, but I also know I can come out the other side strong. And while I am missing pieces of my heart, I am otherwise whole. And those missing pieces make me better and stronger in their absence. We are finding peace in our lives, and finding that having something so positive to focus on has a miraculous way of drowning out the negative.

So this year is the year of renewal. The year of being thankful. We are measuring time as the space between the miracles in our lives. The incredible love we have been given, the gifts of having a home and security and food on the table, the generosity of spirit we have been so lucky to receive. I have gotten cards and emails from family and friends-who-are-family that made me realize that even during my darkest moments, we were never alone. The outpouring of love and kindness has been overwhelming, to say the least, and I can only promise you all that I will try each and every day to be worthy of it.

We still haven't made a decision about the course of our adoption path. Wait for China and an older child or take our chances in the lottery of the domestic adoption pool? I don't want to wait any longer, and doing the home study seems to be a good way of being proactive, but if we choose to wait for the China option, doing that now is not in our best interests. I think Allen is going to have to make the final decision because my desire for instant gratification is warring with the rational part of me that knows it's a long haul either way. The rest of parenting should be a breeze after this, right?  Right?!

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Decisions, decisions.

We are all ready to start our home study paperwork this week, but I had some final questions first, so I called the Barker Foundation yesterday morning. We were strongly considering the Datz Foundation, but their info meeting and organization in general seemed kind of disorganized. Barker is more like a well-oiled machine. Efficient, organized... They just seemed to have their act together more than Datz did. That feeling was reaffirmed after my discussions with them today. I've been pushing myself towards Datz because I thought that they would have less expensive fees and that they could help us accomplish our goals quickly. After my discussions with both the director of international and the director of domestic adoptions, I'm pretty convinced that Datz isn't going to be the best fit for us. For one, the fees aren't as wildly different as I originally thought. And for another, I've been pretty unrealistic about what goals we can accomplish in the timeline I had laid out in my head.

Our plan was to start our paperwork for the Waiting Child program in China and try to adopt domestically (privately) in the interim. Our remaining questions had to do with timing and cost. We are DINKs right now (double income, no kids), but as soon as that first child enters our world, we're dropping down to a single salary. Maybe before then, depending on how fast we can get remaining debt paid off. Cost is relatively unimportant now, but will become important once we lose the second salary. Barker charges a sliding scale fee for domestic comprehensive adoption services. Meaning, if you go the domestic route and enter their profile pool and wait for them to place a child with you (get chosen by a birthparent). They also have flat fees for individual services if you wanted to do a private adoption. The International fees are also flat, no sliding scale.

I know what you're asking yourself, because it's exactly what I asked: that's all fine and good, but how much will it cost? Here's the answer:

The Waiting Child Program costs around $9,000 for the agency fees and another $8,000 in fees to the international (Chinese) agency. But there are also incidental expenses like visas and other US immigration paperwork costs, travel to China for at least one of us (though they strongly recommend both parents travel). So, when all is said and done, we're looking at total costs north of $20,000.

Individual fees run around $4,500 for domestic services. That includes things like the home study, miscellaneous administrative fees (like coordinating with your attorney and certifying documents - that kind of thing), pre-adoption parenting classes, post-adoption follow up. On top of those fees, you also have to pay attorney fees for both yourself and for the birthparents, and I'm not sure how much that costs. I'd say a safe estimate is at least $5,000 for each attorney, but could conceivably go higher. So, for the sake of argument, let's call it $18,000 total. To be safe.

Comprehensive adoption fees are sliding scale. I like the idea of sliding scale, in general. We make more so we should pay more. It also makes it easier for families with lower incomes to adopt. A lot of people cut themselves out of adoption because they think they can't afford it, so a sliding scale is a great way to help people who would otherwise make outstanding parents afford the process. Barker uses line 22 of your income tax return to determine where you fall on the scale. Given our incomes, our total cost for comprehensive services would be $20,000. There are a few additional fees to pay, like finalizing the adoption, and potential pass-through expenses (helping with insurance co-pays for the birth mother, for example), so let's call it $25,000 total.

This is a lot of money. There is no way around that stark fact. I realize now that in previous posts I was a bit cavalier about how much adoption would cost. But Barker's fees aren't really all that different from Datz or any other agency. Maybe we'll pay a bit more, depending on the route we take, but since we'll be paying approximately the same regardless, we may as well go with the agency that feels "right" for us. Barker has been that agency.

We are extremely lucky to even be considering paying these kinds of fees, so I don't want to complain about it too much. Many of these fees are fees for services rendered, and every single person I've spoken to at Barker is well worth the cost. They are providing professional services and advice, and are also available to talk or email with general questions. They are friendly, polite and well informed, and you don't get a bill after a phone conversation the way you would with an attorney. The level of service is well worth the cost, in my opinion. Additionally, you pay these fees incrementally, not all up front. You pay for the home study when you start the home study. You pay for classes and counseling at the time of the class,  not before. You pay finalization fees once your adoption is final. The cost is much more manageable because it is broken up into "pay as you go" type payments. And finally, the adoption credit on your income taxes offsets the bulk of the cost. The tax credit stands at around $13,000 right now, and is a straight credit, not a deduction. It's true that you pay up front and get partially "reimbursed" on your taxes later, but it is still a significant savings. It basically cuts any of our fees in half, at least.

Now that we've covered cost, the other issue is timing. We've been told that it takes some months to complete a comprehensive international home study and dossier - up to 10 months, in fact. We figured we'd get started even earlier and be ready to go on Allen's 30th birthday. But after a discussion with the director of international adoptions at Barker, I discovered that it's too early to start the process. We have 15 months before Allen turns 30. Home studies are good for 3 years in the Commonwealth of Virginia, but immigration documents and approvals are only good for 15 months. Also, you need certified copies of things like birth certificates and marriage certificates, but the certification can't be too old. There are all sorts of time lines on the international side as well, so realistically speaking, we can't start our paperwork for the Waiting Child program for at least 6 more months.

We could, theoretically, start the process for either a domestic agency or private adoption, but again, realistically speaking, we are only giving ourselves 6 months to complete everything. And it just doesn't work that way. We should expect the process to take a year, at least, and while it can and certainly does happen faster than that for some couples, we shouldn't expect that. And we can't be in the middle of one adoption and start the second at the same time. So it looks like we need to choose. Domestic adoption now or Waiting Child program in 6 months?

It's a really tough call and we'll be doing a lot of discussing and soul searching this week before we finalize our decision. I am really committed to the Waiting Child program, but I'm also ready to be a mom now. I've been ready for a while actually, so waiting even longer is a daunting prospect. Once we made the decision to adopt, I basically had open arms with a sign that said "insert baby here." Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way and we have a lot of legwork to do before we have a child. Increasing that wait time by another 6 months seems frustrating in the short term, but we have to think long term, here. That's the hardest part of this whole process - having to make short term decisions that affect long term outcomes.

Welcome to parenting, I guess.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Full disclosure.

Fair warning: this post will be very honest. Brutally so. And somewhat unapologetic. So either be prepared to have a discussion with your kids, or stop reading out this out loud. You've been warned.

I had a miscarriage.

It started in February 2010. It was one month after we lost our sweet kitty Oliver, and it was one of the most bleak periods in my life. I wrote about it here. Don't click on that link unless you are prepared to read all of my heartbreak and mental instability during that time. I never intended for anyone to read those posts, so I wasn't careful or political. I was angry. I was hurt. I was sad to the very core of my being. I'm not really interested in explaining myself, or apologizing. It was a heartbreak repository. I was lost. I found my way back - Allen held a flashlight and guided me. He was literally the glue that held me together. There were days I didn't think I could survive the pain. How can your heart be ripped from your chest and yet you still breathe and sleep and eat? It was bleak and I hope to never be in that place again. Ever.

The reason I'm suddenly putting this out in such a public way is that while I am normally pretty private, I felt like I owed it to all the other women and families out there who have experienced this to stand up and be counted. It took a long time before I could go 24 hours without crying. I didn't want anyone to even think about me having a miscarriage, or pity me for it, and since I can't control thoughts, I decided not to say anything. I didn't even tell my mother until August, and she knows everything about my life. Just as I was coming to terms with saying "miscarriage" out loud without having an emotional meltdown, I met an amazing woman (I'll call her M for privacy). She and her husband have been guides for us on the adoption path, and she was very forthcoming about her own miscarriages. It made me realize that I was not alone. That talking about it helped lift the weight from my heart. Her ability to discuss it freely was a gift given to her by another friend who openly discussed her miscarriages. My friend M said that if it hadn't been for that woman openly sharing her experience, she would have felt so lost and alone during her struggle. And in turn, she hoped that talking openly about it would help someone else feel less alone. It did. And so here I am. Paying it forward by discussing it.

The statistics are somewhat shocking. Roughly 20-25% of all pregnancies, not women, pregnancies, will end in miscarriage. That number sounds high, but what does it really mean? The reality of the statistic is that almost every woman you know has had a miscarriage. I know more women who have had miscarriages than women who haven't. I didn't realize this fact until I started to speak openly about this. So why aren't we talking about this? It's kind of ingrained in the whole childbirth experience. You aren't even supposed to tell anyone you are pregnant until the 12th week, "just in case". The reasoning is that 80% of miscarriages happen in the first trimester, so it's better to not talk about it until you are past the first major hurdle. But that just makes it even more taboo to discuss it when you have a miscarriage.

Part of the reason for my silence was that I was so angry at my body for the failure and I didn't want anyone else to know that I failed at motherhood before I ever got the chance to try. My doctor assures me that I did nothing to cause it and moreover, could have done nothing to prevent it. The fetus wasn't viable and my body took care of it on its own. In my discussions with others on the topic, I get the feeling that my miscarriage was somewhat unusual. I started miscarrying in February, but didn't complete the process - meaning my body still had the pregnancy hormone and I had irregular and unpredictable cycles - until April. We weren't medically cleared to "try again" until May. It was long and emotionally devastating. Most pregnant women have weekly blood tests to make sure that their HCG levels are increasing. I had weekly blood tests to make sure they were falling. And I had to go into my OBGYNs office and be surrounded by round bellied, glowing pregnant women during the whole thing. "Unpleasant" doesn't even come close to the horror and outrage and all-consuming sadness I waded through.

Now that I have some perspective on the matter, I realize that I was lucky, even if it's still you're-eating-a-shit-sandwich-but-at-least-you-still-have-food kind of lucky. I miscarried at 6 weeks, just as I was starting to suspect I was pregnant. I didn't have months of rubbing my belly or picking out baby clothes or decorating a nursery or having a baby shower. I didn't have time to absorb the full import of being pregnant before it was over. The downside of that is I also fall into a somewhat nebulous region as a result. Did I lose a child? Kind of. It certainly feels to me like I did. But I don't have a headstone or a burial. I didn't have a funeral - though a friend suggested having a private one for closure. I didn't have a gender or a name or any identity whatsoever. But it was still my baby. It would have been born in the fall, late September or early October, and this would have been our first Christmas together. I think about that little life that could have been every single day. And that little life is also irrevocably tied to Oliver. I lost two children last year - one barely more than a collection of cells, the other a kitty so fiercely loved that I can't bring myself to repaint our living room walls for fear of covering up the scratch marks he left behind.

Fast forward to December, and we have still had no luck getting pregnant again. Back to the doctor. More tests. Blood work to check for under diagnosed things like thyroid problems, and to check the quality of the eggs I have. A hysterosalpingogram (yes, it's hard to pronounce - I've had a lot of practice with it) to make sure all my internal organs are normal and functioning. A warning that the most common diagnosis is "unspecified infertility" which means "everything looks fine, shrug". Given that diagnosis, we would have considered a round or two of Clomid, which makes you release a bunch of eggs at once. It's a pretty common drug treatment and I know myriad women who have used it successfully.

Unfortunately, unspecified infertility was not our diagnosis. Or maybe fortunately? I'm not sure yet. We have a reason for not getting pregnant, at least. Something less nebulous than "dunno". The good news is that all my organs are where they should be and are fully functional. The bad news is my follicle stimulating hormone levels (the hormone that indicates the quality of the eggs you have) are too high. It means that I do not have high quality eggs or at least that some of my eggs are not high quality. Realistically speaking, it means I'll probably have a hard time getting pregnant without medical intervention and/or that I will have more miscarriages. Neither prospect seems appealing. This hormone is reactionary - it indicates what's already there, so balancing the hormone, as far as I know, doesn't change the quality of the raw materials. The  next step is a fertility specialist, because Clomid won't be helpful with this problem. This is the path to IVF - in vitro fertilization - and that way lies madness. I may follow up with a fertility doctor, just to get all the facts, if nothing else. But right now I don't want to pursue aggressive medical intervention.

We decided long ago that we wanted to adopt. We always assumed we'd have some kind of blended family, and maybe we still will. But even given the fertility issues, it is very, very important to me to be able to look our child in the face and say "we chose you." We aren't adopting because we have no other options, or because we "can't" have biological children. We're adopting because it is a natural extension of our moral and philosophical underpinnings, and because we have so much love to give, and because there are so many children who already exist who need it. I know I reiterate this point with almost every blog post, but that just underscores the importance.

We have mourned for our lost chances, but that period is behind us now. We are moving forward. We glance over our shoulders occasionally, but for the most part we are looking toward the future, not the past. 2010 was one of the worst years of my life, but I want to temper that statement with the realization that I had food in my belly and a roof over my head and a husband and kitties and family and friends who love me dearly and supported me through it all. I am incredibly lucky.

And to everyone out there who has lost a child, at any stage, I want you to know that you are in my thoughts. Just as I am sure that I'm in yours.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

New Year's Resolutions.

1. Knitting project bigamy. No more than 2 projects on needles at any given time. I'm a big time multi-tasker, but it's getting out of hand.

2. Start running. I've discovered that getting bad news kicks in a major flight impulse, and I would have liked to take my body up on the offer.

3. Be thankful, be positive, look forward.

4. Share more. Be more open. We'll come back to this in a future post, so stay tuned. And/or be warned.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

And we're back!

Back from Christmas travels and blogging hiatus! Our first (well, second, after laundry) order of business is to call Barker and Datz to ask final questions about the more mundane issues pertinent to adoption. (a.k.a cost)

Starting Monday, our focus is collecting all of the documents needed for our home study. We've decided to go into the Waiting Child program in China, but since we have 15 months to wait (Allen needs to catch up on birthdays!) before we can submit our paperwork, we're doing the legwork now, and pursuing a private domestic adoption in the interim. Originally, I thought that we'd do all of the paperwork to have a home study done for an international adoption since you can use an international home study domestically but not vice versa. However, if we adopt domestically in the next 15 months, we'll need to update our home study anyway. So, theoretically, we could do the "easier" home study now, and update it to the international home study later. Another question to ask before we make our final agency selection.

Given the info sessions we've been to, Barker was clearly the winner in terms of organization, experience and overall smoothness of the adoption pipeline. Datz was second in all of those categories, but still very well run with great success stories. The biggest difference seems to be cost. Datz charges flat fees while Barker charges a sliding scale. In theory, a sliding scale is perfectly reasonable. We make more money, therefore, we should pay a bit more. The only problem I have with this system is that Barker didn't seem to have an upper limit on cost. I have heard anecdotes of people having to pay in excess of $20,000 for a domestic adoption (domestic should cost around $10-$15K, given the research I've done), and given that Allen and I are DINKs right now, I'm afraid we'll fall into the highest bracket. Again, this wouldn't be an issue except that we are planning to drop down to one salary once the first kid arrives. As such, we are trying to maximize our savings in the run up to adoption. Again, questions for agencies during business hours on Monday.

Final decision coming soon!