Over the past few weeks, I’ve received several really thoughtful e-mails and comments from people who read this blog urging us to become foster parents in an effort to more quickly become adoptive parents. The idea is that if you foster a child whose parental rights are eventually terminated and there are no other family members willing or able to take the child, you are generally given first chance at becoming his/her adoptive parents. As time goes by and nothing happens re: our home study being approved at the state level, it’s very tempting to consider fostering just so SOMETHING is happening.
Here’s why we won’t.
The state’s goal is always to reunite children with their biological parents. That’s one of the first things they tell you in foster/adopt class. Yes, those parents may have been abusive or neglectful, sometimes severely so, but the state believes that it is always in the best interest of the child to return him or her to their biological parent or family if at all possible. Yes, they may be removed to a home at a near-poverty level but “that’s their heritage”. As foster parents, O & I would not only have to be on board with that, we would have to ASSIST with it. The problem is that in most cases, we DON’T believe that a child would be better off taken from our home and returned to someone who abused or neglected them. Period.
Secondly, a foster parent should be rooting for a biological parent to “work his or her plan” and meet the criteria required to get their child back. Instead, I would be rooting for them to screw up time after time. That’s not very charitable but it’s the truth. I think that takes me out of the “being on board with the State’s plan” category, huh?
Then there is the fact that we don’t WANT to foster. We really admire and respect foster parents and might even want to do it ourselves someday but right now we want to add a child to our family permanently. Is there a chance that the first foster child who walked through the door might get to stay forever? Absolutely. But there would be weeks and months and perhaps even years of waiting and wondering if the next phone call was going to be a social worker telling us they are coming to take away a child we’d grown to love with all of our hearts. It happens time after time after time. I would be devastated, and frankly, I’ve had enough of being devastated. Thanks infertility!
Recently in our county, the police raided a home and shut down a me*th lab. A large number of children were removed from the home, including a couple of infants. Because the foster homes in our county are full, we would probably have been offered one or more of those children, perhaps even an infant. But then we would be responsible for transporting the children and possibly even supervising their visits with their parents – parents who had no problem raising their child in a home with a freakin’ ME*TH LAB. It may sound arrogant, but we don’t want anything to do with people like that.
The example from class that really drove home the fact that we shouldn’t foster was this: “You may have a child is your home who was sex*ually abu*sed by his parent. The state is going to want that child to have visitations with that parent, albeit supervised, and even if the child doesn’t want to go, you are going to have to make them go.” Ummmm, no we aren’t. Neither one of us would ever make a frightened child who had been sexually abused visit the person who abused them, parent or not. No possible way. (And yes, we realize that that’s an extreme example but it does happen.)
Finally, after seeing the comedy of errors we’ve gone through just to get this far in the adoption process, I would have very little confidence that we would be well supported by our county should we have problems with a foster child in our home. I can’t even get an answer as to where we should take first aid classes (ten days and counting waiting for that particular information). I can’t imagine having an urgent need re: a child in my care and how long it would take have that addressed. I can tell you that ten days would not be acceptable. No thank you.
So there you have it. We know that fostering can be a good way to adopt, but for now it’s a resounding NO for us. That being said, I really appreciate those of you who took the time to write us about it. It definitely started us thinking and talking about it again and while we’re happy with where we’ve landed on the topic, who knows? We might just change our minds one of these days.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Here I Go Again
About two years ago, I completely changed the way I ate, cut out all my trigger foods, began exercising 5-6 times a week, and lost over 100 pounds. Part of my motivation was that I was simply tired of living in a body that felt like a prison. My more immediate motivation was that we wanted to have a baby.
I worked my ass off, literally, with my goal of motherhood always in mind.
But last spring/summer several things hit all at once and I allowed myself to be thrown off track.
I was diagnosed with reflux and spent a couple of months feeling as if someone had me by the throat. Misery.
I had a severe reaction to the medication I was put on for reflux (called Reglan) and was almost immediately paralyzed by anxiety and depression, my first experience with either. (I subsequently found out that reactions to Reglan are pretty common. My gastroenterologist told me that some people have complete mental breakdowns while on Reglan. I would definitely have been one of those people had an ER doctor not figured out what was happening.) It took me a while to feel like myself again.
About that time, I had a horrible experience with my RE’s nurse practitioner. It was the straw that broke the camel's back and we decided to decided to walk away from fertility treatments. I was then left mourning the loss of a lifelong dream, giving birth to a baby.
For a while I was up and down but stayed within a ten pound range. Over the past few months, though, my weight has climbed. The med I was put on three months ago to suppress my periods has contributed, but mostly it's because I’ve been trying to fill the baby-sized hole in me with food. I knew it would never work and still I ate and the numbers on the scale climbed. I realized recently that I was also probably trying to punish a body that wouldn’t function properly enough to give us a child, or to even let us get a good start on fertility treatments. “Why should I take care of you? All you do is let me down.”
But that’s not the truth. For all the complaining I’ve done about my reproductive issues, it’s a good body. I have no health problems that could plague me as an overweight woman – no diabetes, perfect blood pressure, fantastic cholesterol, no heart issues. It won’t be that way forever, though. Now is the time to get back on track, before I gain all of the weight back (PERISH THE THOUGHT!!!) – before all of this catches up with me.
So this morning, it’s back to eating well and exercising. I expect that it will be a difficult road ahead, particularly emotionally. I won’t have food to numb my feelings about infertility and our extremely frustrating stroll through the foster/adopt system.
But it will be worth it.
Here I go again.
I worked my ass off, literally, with my goal of motherhood always in mind.
But last spring/summer several things hit all at once and I allowed myself to be thrown off track.
I was diagnosed with reflux and spent a couple of months feeling as if someone had me by the throat. Misery.
I had a severe reaction to the medication I was put on for reflux (called Reglan) and was almost immediately paralyzed by anxiety and depression, my first experience with either. (I subsequently found out that reactions to Reglan are pretty common. My gastroenterologist told me that some people have complete mental breakdowns while on Reglan. I would definitely have been one of those people had an ER doctor not figured out what was happening.) It took me a while to feel like myself again.
About that time, I had a horrible experience with my RE’s nurse practitioner. It was the straw that broke the camel's back and we decided to decided to walk away from fertility treatments. I was then left mourning the loss of a lifelong dream, giving birth to a baby.
For a while I was up and down but stayed within a ten pound range. Over the past few months, though, my weight has climbed. The med I was put on three months ago to suppress my periods has contributed, but mostly it's because I’ve been trying to fill the baby-sized hole in me with food. I knew it would never work and still I ate and the numbers on the scale climbed. I realized recently that I was also probably trying to punish a body that wouldn’t function properly enough to give us a child, or to even let us get a good start on fertility treatments. “Why should I take care of you? All you do is let me down.”
But that’s not the truth. For all the complaining I’ve done about my reproductive issues, it’s a good body. I have no health problems that could plague me as an overweight woman – no diabetes, perfect blood pressure, fantastic cholesterol, no heart issues. It won’t be that way forever, though. Now is the time to get back on track, before I gain all of the weight back (PERISH THE THOUGHT!!!) – before all of this catches up with me.
So this morning, it’s back to eating well and exercising. I expect that it will be a difficult road ahead, particularly emotionally. I won’t have food to numb my feelings about infertility and our extremely frustrating stroll through the foster/adopt system.
But it will be worth it.
Here I go again.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Iris
Five years ago today I was standing on the balcony of my apartment watering flowers and straining to hear the sound of footsteps coming up the stairway. I was NER. VOUS. I was waiting on a cute boy who was coming to take me out for our first date. When he walked through my front door, he was holding a beautiful purple iris that he’d picked from his front yard for me – from a bed that his grandmother had planted years before.
Now five years later, I’m married to that cute boy and we have a life more wonderful than I could ever have imagined. He is the best person I have ever known.
We still take care of that iris bed and every year when it blooms, I am reminded of the nervous girl on the balcony and the boy who changed her life.
Thank you baby. I love you.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Four Months
For sanity’s sake, I am on a hiatus from all things foster/adopt related. I haven’t been checking our e-mails hoping for news from our worker or the state. I haven’t been walking immediately to the phone to check for messages when I get home. I haven’t been zipping around other states' D*C*F*S websites and Heart Galleries looking at the children available for adoption. I haven’t even jumped online to see if Smiley, the 9-year-old boy we’re interested in, is still available.
For the time being, I am done.
That’s not to say that I won’t recharge my batteries over the next few days and get back in the game. In fact, I’m certain that I will. I still believe that this is how we’re supposed to find our child, but for the moment I am completely and totally fed up.
Our county’s foster/adoptive parent meeting (run by our SW) was Tuesday night. We went to last month’s meeting and considered attending this one. It’s always good to get out there and meet people and get “face time” with our SW. But I just didn’t have it in me. I’m not a foster parent. I’m not an adoptive parent. I have busted my ass and jumped through every hoop they’ve given me so far. My efforts have been rewarded with disinterest at best. So I decided that I wasn’t terribly motivated to pay dues and listen to them talk for thirty minutes about how I can help with the fund raiser they are involved in. Normally I’d be all over it – anxious to help in any way I could. But this week? Not so much.
On Monday when I found out that we needed first aid along with CPR, I e-mailed my SW and asked her where we could take classes. She said she’d find out and let me know. It’s now Thursday afternoon and still no response from her. I expected that, so I spent five minutes online Monday evening, found a class mid-May, and signed us up for it. It will be interesting to see if she ever gets back to us, though.
So after some talking, we’ve made a decision. We are giving this situation until September to pan out. That doesn’t mean that we have to have to have a child placed in our home by that time (though I hope we do), but what it does mean is that all this bullshit is resolved and that we are licensed to adopt and can proceed to actively look for our child. If we are still in limbo due to other people’s mistakes, we will walk away and directly back into the reproductive endocrinologist’s office. On to IVF for us. I am not terribly enthusiastic about it right now, but I am very serious. By September we will have spent over a year of our lives pursuing adoption through the foster system. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect that we should be licensed by the fall.
I understand now why so many people walk away from this process – why there is such a shortage of people willing to adopt through the state. My husband and I are not perfect people by any stretch of the imagination, but we would be damned good parents and if we reach the point where it’s time walk away, the state will have lost one of the most loving, committed, enthusiastic resources they ever had.
They have four months.
And now for the pretty flowers we've been growing/planting in our yard . . .
For the time being, I am done.
That’s not to say that I won’t recharge my batteries over the next few days and get back in the game. In fact, I’m certain that I will. I still believe that this is how we’re supposed to find our child, but for the moment I am completely and totally fed up.
Our county’s foster/adoptive parent meeting (run by our SW) was Tuesday night. We went to last month’s meeting and considered attending this one. It’s always good to get out there and meet people and get “face time” with our SW. But I just didn’t have it in me. I’m not a foster parent. I’m not an adoptive parent. I have busted my ass and jumped through every hoop they’ve given me so far. My efforts have been rewarded with disinterest at best. So I decided that I wasn’t terribly motivated to pay dues and listen to them talk for thirty minutes about how I can help with the fund raiser they are involved in. Normally I’d be all over it – anxious to help in any way I could. But this week? Not so much.
On Monday when I found out that we needed first aid along with CPR, I e-mailed my SW and asked her where we could take classes. She said she’d find out and let me know. It’s now Thursday afternoon and still no response from her. I expected that, so I spent five minutes online Monday evening, found a class mid-May, and signed us up for it. It will be interesting to see if she ever gets back to us, though.
So after some talking, we’ve made a decision. We are giving this situation until September to pan out. That doesn’t mean that we have to have to have a child placed in our home by that time (though I hope we do), but what it does mean is that all this bullshit is resolved and that we are licensed to adopt and can proceed to actively look for our child. If we are still in limbo due to other people’s mistakes, we will walk away and directly back into the reproductive endocrinologist’s office. On to IVF for us. I am not terribly enthusiastic about it right now, but I am very serious. By September we will have spent over a year of our lives pursuing adoption through the foster system. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect that we should be licensed by the fall.
I understand now why so many people walk away from this process – why there is such a shortage of people willing to adopt through the state. My husband and I are not perfect people by any stretch of the imagination, but we would be damned good parents and if we reach the point where it’s time walk away, the state will have lost one of the most loving, committed, enthusiastic resources they ever had.
They have four months.
And now for the pretty flowers we've been growing/planting in our yard . . .
Monday, April 21, 2008
Psychic Olga
You may now just refer to me a Psychic Olga. (However, if you just found this blog by googling the phrase “Psychic Olga”, shoo - go away. I am neither psychic nor Olga.)
Remember when I said that I had very little confidence that our home study was complete when it was sent to the state office for review? Well, guess what!
On Friday I e-mailed our contact C. at the state office. You may remember that she’s not one of the workers who reviews home studies. Rather, she works in recruiting adoptive parents. Anywho, I asked her if she’d had a chance to put our scrapbook back in the mail to us, as I had yet to receive it. No hurry of course, but I just wanted to make sure that it wasn’t now lost somewhere in the vast abyss of the USPS. (She has yet to mail it. Okay fine.)
I also asked her approximately how long it took to review/approve home studies once they reach the state office provided that they were complete. I’d asked that once before and got the “Well, it depends on who the study is assigned to and their case load and whether or not they’re out of town often” answer. But are we talking a month or three months or six months? I know every case is different but she has to have SOME general idea. (Her response to that question was the exact same as the first time so I still have no idea.)
She also happened to mention that when she was at the state offices last Friday, she found our home study IN HER MAILBOX. No idea why it was there, but if it was in her mailbox, it clearly wasn’t being reviewed by anyone.
But that’s okay. Know why???
Because the final thing she told me was that when she looked through our home study, it was nowhere near complete – that all of our foster/adopt class “stuff” was missing. (In the ten-week foster/adopt class, we generated what is easily a three-inch thick stack of paperwork – questionnaires, homework, forms, graphs – you name it. She has none of that.)
Know why?
Because our SW didn’t send any of it – said she’d never had to before.
Mmmmmkay.
But she’ll send it out today.
Mmmmmkay.
'Cause I’m certain that everything will get copied and sent this time.
So to review for those keeping score:
Our home study has been sitting at the state office, INCOMPLETE, for one month.
Mmmmmkay.
On a happier note, O and I had such a fun Saturday. My dad is a daylily expert and we went to see him speak at the Dogwood Festival in the town where my parents live. He had a great turnout – about thirty people – and it was so wonderful to hear him share this passion with others. Afterwards, my mom came up and we had lunch and we wandered around the town square people watching, shopping, and enjoying the perfect spring day and the beautiful old dogwoods.
Ahhhhh, springtime in the South. It’s a good thing.
P.S. C. just e-mailed our SW a complete list of all the paperwork the state needs to begin reviewing our home study. One of them is proof of Infant and Child First Aid. Excuse me? I was told that we just needed CPR. In fact, the CPR class we attended was also a First Aid class but we left because we didn't know we needed it. I swear, I have absolutely had it with incompetence at every turn. Must go now and try to locate infant and child first aid classes. Three e-mails and one call to our SW re: CPR classes never garnered a single response, so I guess we're in this on our own too.
Remember when I said that I had very little confidence that our home study was complete when it was sent to the state office for review? Well, guess what!
On Friday I e-mailed our contact C. at the state office. You may remember that she’s not one of the workers who reviews home studies. Rather, she works in recruiting adoptive parents. Anywho, I asked her if she’d had a chance to put our scrapbook back in the mail to us, as I had yet to receive it. No hurry of course, but I just wanted to make sure that it wasn’t now lost somewhere in the vast abyss of the USPS. (She has yet to mail it. Okay fine.)
I also asked her approximately how long it took to review/approve home studies once they reach the state office provided that they were complete. I’d asked that once before and got the “Well, it depends on who the study is assigned to and their case load and whether or not they’re out of town often” answer. But are we talking a month or three months or six months? I know every case is different but she has to have SOME general idea. (Her response to that question was the exact same as the first time so I still have no idea.)
She also happened to mention that when she was at the state offices last Friday, she found our home study IN HER MAILBOX. No idea why it was there, but if it was in her mailbox, it clearly wasn’t being reviewed by anyone.
But that’s okay. Know why???
Because the final thing she told me was that when she looked through our home study, it was nowhere near complete – that all of our foster/adopt class “stuff” was missing. (In the ten-week foster/adopt class, we generated what is easily a three-inch thick stack of paperwork – questionnaires, homework, forms, graphs – you name it. She has none of that.)
Know why?
Because our SW didn’t send any of it – said she’d never had to before.
Mmmmmkay.
But she’ll send it out today.
Mmmmmkay.
'Cause I’m certain that everything will get copied and sent this time.
So to review for those keeping score:
Our home study has been sitting at the state office, INCOMPLETE, for one month.
Mmmmmkay.
On a happier note, O and I had such a fun Saturday. My dad is a daylily expert and we went to see him speak at the Dogwood Festival in the town where my parents live. He had a great turnout – about thirty people – and it was so wonderful to hear him share this passion with others. Afterwards, my mom came up and we had lunch and we wandered around the town square people watching, shopping, and enjoying the perfect spring day and the beautiful old dogwoods.
Ahhhhh, springtime in the South. It’s a good thing.
P.S. C. just e-mailed our SW a complete list of all the paperwork the state needs to begin reviewing our home study. One of them is proof of Infant and Child First Aid. Excuse me? I was told that we just needed CPR. In fact, the CPR class we attended was also a First Aid class but we left because we didn't know we needed it. I swear, I have absolutely had it with incompetence at every turn. Must go now and try to locate infant and child first aid classes. Three e-mails and one call to our SW re: CPR classes never garnered a single response, so I guess we're in this on our own too.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Is There Any Better Feeling . . .
Is there any better feeling than being moved to tears by pure unadulterated beauty?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqe3A-zQhzU&feature=related
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Check Please
1. 9 a.m. - dentist appointment - Check
2. 9:30 a.m. - 25 minute power outage at the dentist's office (TOTAL darkness) - Check
3. 9:55 removal of old filling - Check
4. 9:56 a.m. - frantic speakerphone call to the dentist that the offices' phones weren't ringing - Check
5. 9:57 a.m. - now frantic dentist leaves to go check on the phones - Check
6. 10:15 a.m. - dentist returns, WASHES HIS GLOVED HANDS, and puts in new filling - Check
7. 10:30 a.m. - noon - extensive tounge and cheek biting with occasional and attractive drooling - Check
8. 10:30 a.m. today - 10:30 a.m. tomorrow - 24 hours of left-sided chewing for this right-sided chewer - Check
Check please!
Preferably a tax refund check!
Happy tax day y'all!
Monday, April 14, 2008
A Little Peace and A Little Project
Friday morning I was feeling particularly frustrated about our childless situation. Part of it stemmed from last week’s birth of a family member’s child. I exchanged e-mails with this particular person (who I didn’t know very well) when she was going through IF treatments. Once she became pregnant I never heard another word from her. I’m not one to get my feelings hurt very easily but that hurt my feelings. Anyway, my MIL went on and on about what a cute baby she had and that, of course, started me thinking.
When I get in a funk I’m not one to sit and stew. It’s time to DO something, so I spent a while reviewing all of our options again.
I looked at our most recent health insurance policy to see if there had been any changes to their (non-existent) coverage for infertility. Nope. But the bottom line is that if we wanted to do IVF, we could find a way to make it work. We simply have no desire to pursue it right now.
In looking at international adoption, we are ineligible for several countries' programs because of our ages but there are other countries we could still adopt from.
I really don't think domestic adoption is too realistic for us because of our ages.
We recently received an e-mail from an acquaintance who adopted a child from an out-of-state adoption agency. She got a letter from the agency urging her to contact any potential adoptive parents who might consider an African-American or bi-racial infant. She said the last time she received such a letter they were literally “overflowing” with babies. I contacted them and they require potential adoptive parents be Christian, attend the same church, and have their pastor complete a Church Evaluation Form (who knows WHAT that is?!?!?) Though we are both Christians, O & I don’t currently attend church. We’ve talked about finding a church where we both feel comfortable but we just haven’t done it yet. I guess we could quickly get involved with a church in order to have that form filled out, but that seems dishonest to me. However, the option remains.
So after an hour or so of looking at everything, I still came back to adopting through the foster system. For all its’ problems, it just seems like the best route for us right now.
O called our SW on Friday to see if she would take a minute to contact the state office to check the status of our home study. We normally wouldn’t be so anxious but we really want to be considered for that one particular 8-year-old boy and feel like time is slipping away for that. Her response was that they’d contact her when they were through or if they had questions.
Translated: No.
When O told me that, I got all fired up but then it just hit me.
I CHOSE this particular path towards motherhood and put very simply, I have to play by the rules of the game I put myself into.
Period.
There is nothing else for me to do unless I want to take myself out of the game. I am still confident that our child or children will find us through the foster system so for now I have to sit tight, wait, and put up with whatever happens (or doesn’t happen) as things unfold. I don’t have to like it. I just have to do it – until I don’t want to do it anymore. Getting upset or frustrated about it only ruins MY day.
I’m glad I had that epiphany because we had such a nice, relaxing weekend. I worked on my quilt, read, had a dear friend over for dinner on Saturday night, watched a Dead*liest Cat*ch marathon off and on, and watched the Master’s with O. (I know . . . golf on TV . . . yawn! But the course is so beautiful and as long as I have someone to cheer for or against, I’m good to go.) This weekend is the perfect example of how important it is that I not miss out on my life now as I wait for my life as a mom to begin.
I may need y'all to remind me of that from time to time, though. K?
One thing I'm going to do as we wait is to put together binders with some of our information including our “Child Desired” form, letter of introduction, an overview of who we are, and the letter we wrote to children who might potentially be matched with us. I'll also add in a few pages with photos of us, our home, and the farm. Once we get final state approval, I will send them to SW’s in surrounding counties letting them know that we’re out here looking for a child. I’ll also have them available to send to SW’s in other states as we contact them about children we’re interested in.
So I've found a little peace AND I have a little project. Life is good.
When I get in a funk I’m not one to sit and stew. It’s time to DO something, so I spent a while reviewing all of our options again.
I looked at our most recent health insurance policy to see if there had been any changes to their (non-existent) coverage for infertility. Nope. But the bottom line is that if we wanted to do IVF, we could find a way to make it work. We simply have no desire to pursue it right now.
In looking at international adoption, we are ineligible for several countries' programs because of our ages but there are other countries we could still adopt from.
I really don't think domestic adoption is too realistic for us because of our ages.
We recently received an e-mail from an acquaintance who adopted a child from an out-of-state adoption agency. She got a letter from the agency urging her to contact any potential adoptive parents who might consider an African-American or bi-racial infant. She said the last time she received such a letter they were literally “overflowing” with babies. I contacted them and they require potential adoptive parents be Christian, attend the same church, and have their pastor complete a Church Evaluation Form (who knows WHAT that is?!?!?) Though we are both Christians, O & I don’t currently attend church. We’ve talked about finding a church where we both feel comfortable but we just haven’t done it yet. I guess we could quickly get involved with a church in order to have that form filled out, but that seems dishonest to me. However, the option remains.
So after an hour or so of looking at everything, I still came back to adopting through the foster system. For all its’ problems, it just seems like the best route for us right now.
O called our SW on Friday to see if she would take a minute to contact the state office to check the status of our home study. We normally wouldn’t be so anxious but we really want to be considered for that one particular 8-year-old boy and feel like time is slipping away for that. Her response was that they’d contact her when they were through or if they had questions.
Translated: No.
When O told me that, I got all fired up but then it just hit me.
I CHOSE this particular path towards motherhood and put very simply, I have to play by the rules of the game I put myself into.
Period.
There is nothing else for me to do unless I want to take myself out of the game. I am still confident that our child or children will find us through the foster system so for now I have to sit tight, wait, and put up with whatever happens (or doesn’t happen) as things unfold. I don’t have to like it. I just have to do it – until I don’t want to do it anymore. Getting upset or frustrated about it only ruins MY day.
I’m glad I had that epiphany because we had such a nice, relaxing weekend. I worked on my quilt, read, had a dear friend over for dinner on Saturday night, watched a Dead*liest Cat*ch marathon off and on, and watched the Master’s with O. (I know . . . golf on TV . . . yawn! But the course is so beautiful and as long as I have someone to cheer for or against, I’m good to go.) This weekend is the perfect example of how important it is that I not miss out on my life now as I wait for my life as a mom to begin.
I may need y'all to remind me of that from time to time, though. K?
One thing I'm going to do as we wait is to put together binders with some of our information including our “Child Desired” form, letter of introduction, an overview of who we are, and the letter we wrote to children who might potentially be matched with us. I'll also add in a few pages with photos of us, our home, and the farm. Once we get final state approval, I will send them to SW’s in surrounding counties letting them know that we’re out here looking for a child. I’ll also have them available to send to SW’s in other states as we contact them about children we’re interested in.
So I've found a little peace AND I have a little project. Life is good.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Things To Pollen . . . . I Mean Ponder
1. Instead of remembering my birthday and calling, e-mailing, or sending a card to wish me a happy day, my SIL instead forwarded me an e-mail with the following title:
“Why I Love All You Moms”.
It was one of those “Moms are so awesome and they do everything for everyone and blah blah blah”.
Why would you send me that ON MY 40TH BIRTHDAY, dear SIL? Remember all that infertility nonsense we told you about? Remember the last time you came over? Like three weeks ago? Was there a child living in our child’s room? Nope, so I’m guessing that the whole adoption thing hasn’t worked out yet either. But hey, thanks for the reminder of what I’m not, ON MY 40TH BIRTHDAY! Love ya! Big kiss!
2. Is there one single woman on “The View” that doesn’t need to SHUT UP immediately?
3. Did I miss the memo where American women have been urged not to flush in public restrooms? It’s not that difficult. It doesn’t take very long. Come on ladies, hang out for a minute. If at first you don’t succeed, flush flush again.
4. My experience is that many of the women of my husband’s small hometown are cliquey and standoffish until they hear I’m married to D and that I’m J & B’s DIL. Then they become extremely sweet, smiley, and fawning. So I’m guessing it would be wrong to take out an ad in the local paper telling them all to suck it? Hmmm?
5. On Monday I called the cardiologist I saw 2 years ago to ask him if I needed antibiotics before dental work. I have an atr*ial sep*tal def*ect – a tiny hole between the upper chambers of my heart. It is very common – one in four people have it and it rarely causes any problems. I just couldn’t remember if I needed to do anything before dental work.
The cardiologist wouldn’t answer my question unless I came in for an office visit. I called his partner in another office who my MIL sees. He wouldn’t answer my question either, even though he had access to my records too.
So I went in to see him on Monday afternoon and literally spent four minutes with him. No, people with ASD’s don’t need antibiotics before dental work, which of course he couldn’t tell me without a $150 office visit and oh by the way, “since I was already there” he recommended setting up an echocardiogram for the next day to make sure the hole hadn’t changed.
Normally I would have said no.
He’d just spent three of the four minutes telling me that my particular defect was tiny, should never cause problems, blah blah blah. BUT, I put the defect on my paperwork for the adoption physical. My SW never mentioned it (probably because she never read the physical form) but I’m sure that somewhere along the way, the words “heart defect” will raise a red flag. This way I would be prepared if the state needs more information.
Anyway, as we were walking out of the exam room, he laid my bill on the counter and I saw that he’d written “Chest Pain” and “Shortness of Breath” as his diagnoses. I found that surprising since the only chest pain I’d had was 2 years before after lifting heavy rocks while landscaping our yard (inflammation) and that I’d never had shortness of breath.
I didn’t say anything at the time but when I went in for the echo on Tuesday, I told the women at the front desk that I had some concerns about the diagnosis that the doctor had written on my bill. They pulled it and began wildly tap dancing.
Receptionists and nurse: “Maybe he meant HISTORY OF chest pain.”
Me: “Except that’s not what he wrote.”
Receptionists and nurse: “Well, maybe he put that because that was Dr. Partner’s diagnosis.”
Me: “From two years ago?”
Receptionists and nurse: “Well, the other diagnosis is shortness of breath? Have you had that?”
Me: “Never. Not then. Not now."
Receptionists and nurse: “Now where exactly did you SEE the bill?”
Me: “Well, I came out of the exam room right behind him and he laid it on the window as I walked up to make today’s appointment.”
Receptionists and nurse: Blank stares
Me: “You know, if he’s just looking for a diagnosis to get insurance to pay, I’m not comfortable with that. Especially because if we ever have to purchase medical insurance, I am going to have both “chest pain” and “shortness of breath” on my medical history when neither are the case. I'm also not interested in having today's test if I don't actually need it.”
Receptionists and nurse: Tap tap tap . . . shuffle papers . . . “Well, we’ll check on it and find out.”
Did I mention that all three of the women behind the desk are from my husband’s hometown? They were distantly polite till they found out who I was and then it was “Oh! I go to church with your in-laws! I LOVE them.” “My husband plays golf with your husband!” “My kids are in the same grades as your niece and nephew!” I even found out from them that my nephew didn’t go to prom because his girlfriend couldn’t come up for it. Sweetness and light abounds!
So here I am being a difficult patient because their doctor put down two bullshit diagnoses to get insurance to pay for what we both know was a bullshit office visit and they don’t quite know what to say. I’ll bet tongues have been wagging all over town ever since about O’s bitchy wife. HIPAA means very little 'round these parts, trust me.
This whole thing bothers me. Yes, we have great insurance that will pay for these visits, but part of the reason that insurance costs are so insane is for this very reason. Bullshit office visits and bullshit diagnoses.
6. Night sweats – those suck – who knew?
7. I have decided that as a resident of my state I will be purchasing a pollen-colored car and pollen-colored clothes for this most wonderful time of year when even the air is a sickly greenish-yellow.
“Why I Love All You Moms”.
It was one of those “Moms are so awesome and they do everything for everyone and blah blah blah”.
Why would you send me that ON MY 40TH BIRTHDAY, dear SIL? Remember all that infertility nonsense we told you about? Remember the last time you came over? Like three weeks ago? Was there a child living in our child’s room? Nope, so I’m guessing that the whole adoption thing hasn’t worked out yet either. But hey, thanks for the reminder of what I’m not, ON MY 40TH BIRTHDAY! Love ya! Big kiss!
2. Is there one single woman on “The View” that doesn’t need to SHUT UP immediately?
3. Did I miss the memo where American women have been urged not to flush in public restrooms? It’s not that difficult. It doesn’t take very long. Come on ladies, hang out for a minute. If at first you don’t succeed, flush flush again.
4. My experience is that many of the women of my husband’s small hometown are cliquey and standoffish until they hear I’m married to D and that I’m J & B’s DIL. Then they become extremely sweet, smiley, and fawning. So I’m guessing it would be wrong to take out an ad in the local paper telling them all to suck it? Hmmm?
5. On Monday I called the cardiologist I saw 2 years ago to ask him if I needed antibiotics before dental work. I have an atr*ial sep*tal def*ect – a tiny hole between the upper chambers of my heart. It is very common – one in four people have it and it rarely causes any problems. I just couldn’t remember if I needed to do anything before dental work.
The cardiologist wouldn’t answer my question unless I came in for an office visit. I called his partner in another office who my MIL sees. He wouldn’t answer my question either, even though he had access to my records too.
So I went in to see him on Monday afternoon and literally spent four minutes with him. No, people with ASD’s don’t need antibiotics before dental work, which of course he couldn’t tell me without a $150 office visit and oh by the way, “since I was already there” he recommended setting up an echocardiogram for the next day to make sure the hole hadn’t changed.
Normally I would have said no.
He’d just spent three of the four minutes telling me that my particular defect was tiny, should never cause problems, blah blah blah. BUT, I put the defect on my paperwork for the adoption physical. My SW never mentioned it (probably because she never read the physical form) but I’m sure that somewhere along the way, the words “heart defect” will raise a red flag. This way I would be prepared if the state needs more information.
Anyway, as we were walking out of the exam room, he laid my bill on the counter and I saw that he’d written “Chest Pain” and “Shortness of Breath” as his diagnoses. I found that surprising since the only chest pain I’d had was 2 years before after lifting heavy rocks while landscaping our yard (inflammation) and that I’d never had shortness of breath.
I didn’t say anything at the time but when I went in for the echo on Tuesday, I told the women at the front desk that I had some concerns about the diagnosis that the doctor had written on my bill. They pulled it and began wildly tap dancing.
Receptionists and nurse: “Maybe he meant HISTORY OF chest pain.”
Me: “Except that’s not what he wrote.”
Receptionists and nurse: “Well, maybe he put that because that was Dr. Partner’s diagnosis.”
Me: “From two years ago?”
Receptionists and nurse: “Well, the other diagnosis is shortness of breath? Have you had that?”
Me: “Never. Not then. Not now."
Receptionists and nurse: “Now where exactly did you SEE the bill?”
Me: “Well, I came out of the exam room right behind him and he laid it on the window as I walked up to make today’s appointment.”
Receptionists and nurse: Blank stares
Me: “You know, if he’s just looking for a diagnosis to get insurance to pay, I’m not comfortable with that. Especially because if we ever have to purchase medical insurance, I am going to have both “chest pain” and “shortness of breath” on my medical history when neither are the case. I'm also not interested in having today's test if I don't actually need it.”
Receptionists and nurse: Tap tap tap . . . shuffle papers . . . “Well, we’ll check on it and find out.”
Did I mention that all three of the women behind the desk are from my husband’s hometown? They were distantly polite till they found out who I was and then it was “Oh! I go to church with your in-laws! I LOVE them.” “My husband plays golf with your husband!” “My kids are in the same grades as your niece and nephew!” I even found out from them that my nephew didn’t go to prom because his girlfriend couldn’t come up for it. Sweetness and light abounds!
So here I am being a difficult patient because their doctor put down two bullshit diagnoses to get insurance to pay for what we both know was a bullshit office visit and they don’t quite know what to say. I’ll bet tongues have been wagging all over town ever since about O’s bitchy wife. HIPAA means very little 'round these parts, trust me.
This whole thing bothers me. Yes, we have great insurance that will pay for these visits, but part of the reason that insurance costs are so insane is for this very reason. Bullshit office visits and bullshit diagnoses.
6. Night sweats – those suck – who knew?
7. I have decided that as a resident of my state I will be purchasing a pollen-colored car and pollen-colored clothes for this most wonderful time of year when even the air is a sickly greenish-yellow.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Patience is a Smelly Old Uncle
It is my fervent hope that this is the last post I will write containing the word “scrapbook” for at least six months.
On Monday morning I e-mailed our contact, C., at the state adoption office to get a status report on our home study. I figured it would be my last opportunity to do so because C. actually handles the recruiting and retention of adoptive parents and is not involved in the approval process at all. She was just doing us a favor in trying to get our corrected paperwork into our file. Any information I get from here on out will have to come from our local social worker. Translated: It will be like pulling teeth.
Anyway, she was able to find our home study last Thursday but it was still in the file room and had not been submitted to anyone for approval. She also mentioned that the first scrapbook I did during our GPS class was not with the home study. She suggested that I contact our social worker (L.) to make sure that it had not been misplaced.
So, I sent a brief e-mail to L. and asked if she still had it. I also told her that the state files were not equipped to hold even an average size scrapbook so she might want to advise future adoptive parents not to spend a lot of time and money on creating a scrapbook to send with their home study because they would only have to be returned to them.
The response I got?
"I have the scrapbook. I will send it today.”
Are you freaking kidding me?
Apparently she missed the part of the very short e-mail outlining the fact that the STATE FILES WILL NOT HOLD A SCRAPBOOK LIKE THAT AND THAT IT WOULD HAVE TO BE RETURNED.
I e-mailed her back immediately and reiterated that point, but she did not respond (shocker) so for all I know the scrapbook is now wending its’ way to the state offices where, best case scenario, someone will locate it and send the damned thing back.
Our tax dollars at work.
My hopes for being considered as adoptive parents for the 8-year-old boy we’re interested in are waning. They have been looking at another family for him for at least a couple of weeks. Our study is just sitting in a file room. Once someone does review it, I have zero confidence that they will find it complete and won’t have to come back to L (a.k.a MIA) with a whole pile of questions.
I could be wrong. We could fly through the process and the 8-year-old could still be available. Who knows?
What I DO know is that I have done everything I can do. I can’t pursue children from this state, sign up for the national adoption website, or contact other states until we get the final approval on our home study. Well, I can but their first question will be “do you have a completed home study”. Ummm, technically no. I do have two worthless scrapbooks and a seemingly disinterested social worker, though. Does that help?
So I wait. Have I mentioned how *&%^$#@ much I hate waiting?
I was advised by C. that at this point in the process, patience is my best friend. Nope, sorry. Whoever takes my home study from the file room and reviews and approves it will be my best friend. Patience is a smelly old uncle whom I can’t stand but have to hang out with because I have no choice.
(“Patience is a smelly old uncle”. I truly do have a gift for making the English language sing, don’t I?)
On Monday morning I e-mailed our contact, C., at the state adoption office to get a status report on our home study. I figured it would be my last opportunity to do so because C. actually handles the recruiting and retention of adoptive parents and is not involved in the approval process at all. She was just doing us a favor in trying to get our corrected paperwork into our file. Any information I get from here on out will have to come from our local social worker. Translated: It will be like pulling teeth.
Anyway, she was able to find our home study last Thursday but it was still in the file room and had not been submitted to anyone for approval. She also mentioned that the first scrapbook I did during our GPS class was not with the home study. She suggested that I contact our social worker (L.) to make sure that it had not been misplaced.
So, I sent a brief e-mail to L. and asked if she still had it. I also told her that the state files were not equipped to hold even an average size scrapbook so she might want to advise future adoptive parents not to spend a lot of time and money on creating a scrapbook to send with their home study because they would only have to be returned to them.
The response I got?
"I have the scrapbook. I will send it today.”
Are you freaking kidding me?
Apparently she missed the part of the very short e-mail outlining the fact that the STATE FILES WILL NOT HOLD A SCRAPBOOK LIKE THAT AND THAT IT WOULD HAVE TO BE RETURNED.
I e-mailed her back immediately and reiterated that point, but she did not respond (shocker) so for all I know the scrapbook is now wending its’ way to the state offices where, best case scenario, someone will locate it and send the damned thing back.
Our tax dollars at work.
My hopes for being considered as adoptive parents for the 8-year-old boy we’re interested in are waning. They have been looking at another family for him for at least a couple of weeks. Our study is just sitting in a file room. Once someone does review it, I have zero confidence that they will find it complete and won’t have to come back to L (a.k.a MIA) with a whole pile of questions.
I could be wrong. We could fly through the process and the 8-year-old could still be available. Who knows?
What I DO know is that I have done everything I can do. I can’t pursue children from this state, sign up for the national adoption website, or contact other states until we get the final approval on our home study. Well, I can but their first question will be “do you have a completed home study”. Ummm, technically no. I do have two worthless scrapbooks and a seemingly disinterested social worker, though. Does that help?
So I wait. Have I mentioned how *&%^$#@ much I hate waiting?
I was advised by C. that at this point in the process, patience is my best friend. Nope, sorry. Whoever takes my home study from the file room and reviews and approves it will be my best friend. Patience is a smelly old uncle whom I can’t stand but have to hang out with because I have no choice.
(“Patience is a smelly old uncle”. I truly do have a gift for making the English language sing, don’t I?)
Monday, April 7, 2008
Not Bad
Being 40? Not bad – not bad at all!
O and I had such a nice trip to the mountains. My actual birthday day was somewhat of a comedy of errors, though.
On the way to Gatlin*burg, I checked our messages and there was one from our contact at the state adoption office. She’d received the scrapbook that I spent $25 to overnight to her. Great, right? Ummm, no. It was too big to fit in the state’s files. (It was a standard 8.5X11 scrapbook. No one ever told me there were size requirements.) She kindly offered to scan a few of the pages, put them with our home study, and return both of our scrapbooks to us. She said they’ll need them when/if we are matched with a child. Can you say big fat waste of time and money?
"It’s okay, shake it off. We are moments away from the enormous Christmas store that I love and dream about." But the stock in the enormous Christmas store in early April? Not so great. They had pretty tulips out front though!
"Let’s go to that other huge gift shop I adore, except wow - it’s closed – for good – apparently a while ago."
"Okay, let’s just get a late lunch at my favorite sandwich place. Except . . . it kind of looks closed. WAIT there are people inside! We’ll MAKE THEM cook food for us!" Crisis averted.
"I know, let’s drive twenty minutes to that other Christmas store . . . that closed five minutes ago."
"Well, let’s just go check into the motel and relax on the balcony for a while before dinner." Except who can relax with swarms of roofers making ungodly noise on top of our building as we settle into the room?
Happily, after a call to the management we got a discounted room and the roofers shut down for the night, so we were left with the sounds of the mountain stream and two quacky ducks in the water just below our balcony.
The rest of the trip was wonderful. We drove through the mountains, took a lot of pictures, ate good food, and yes, managed to do some shopping. Mostly it was just nice to be with my wonderful husband. I do not deserve that man.
Thanks to all of you who sent birthday greetings! I felt very loved!
Now back to real life.
O and I had such a nice trip to the mountains. My actual birthday day was somewhat of a comedy of errors, though.
On the way to Gatlin*burg, I checked our messages and there was one from our contact at the state adoption office. She’d received the scrapbook that I spent $25 to overnight to her. Great, right? Ummm, no. It was too big to fit in the state’s files. (It was a standard 8.5X11 scrapbook. No one ever told me there were size requirements.) She kindly offered to scan a few of the pages, put them with our home study, and return both of our scrapbooks to us. She said they’ll need them when/if we are matched with a child. Can you say big fat waste of time and money?
"It’s okay, shake it off. We are moments away from the enormous Christmas store that I love and dream about." But the stock in the enormous Christmas store in early April? Not so great. They had pretty tulips out front though!
"Let’s go to that other huge gift shop I adore, except wow - it’s closed – for good – apparently a while ago."
"Okay, let’s just get a late lunch at my favorite sandwich place. Except . . . it kind of looks closed. WAIT there are people inside! We’ll MAKE THEM cook food for us!" Crisis averted.
"I know, let’s drive twenty minutes to that other Christmas store . . . that closed five minutes ago."
"Well, let’s just go check into the motel and relax on the balcony for a while before dinner." Except who can relax with swarms of roofers making ungodly noise on top of our building as we settle into the room?
Happily, after a call to the management we got a discounted room and the roofers shut down for the night, so we were left with the sounds of the mountain stream and two quacky ducks in the water just below our balcony.
The rest of the trip was wonderful. We drove through the mountains, took a lot of pictures, ate good food, and yes, managed to do some shopping. Mostly it was just nice to be with my wonderful husband. I do not deserve that man.
Thanks to all of you who sent birthday greetings! I felt very loved!
Now back to real life.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Tomorrow I am Forty . . . Where is My Child?
What a beautiful day I have for spending my very last day in my 30’s. After a night of thunder, the sun is shining and the dogwoods are in bloom. I do so love April in the South.
I’ve been a little bit out of sorts the past few days – nothing too dramatic, just quiet and “in my head” more than usual. I suppose it’s natural as you approach such a big birthday to take stock of your life, where you are and where you’re going.
Forty has always been my “drop dead” date for getting pregnant. Yes, I realize that women in their forties have perfectly healthy babies every day, but for me this is the age where the risk of complications starts to outweigh my desire to have a biological child. So, I honestly expected that as this milestone crept closer, my sadness about not having a biological child would probably crescendo.
Yeah . . . not so much. I even TRIED to get worked up about it. It’s just not there.
Now, I haven’t deluded myself into thinking that there won’t be “why not me” moments in the future; that I won’t feel a twinge sometimes when I see a new mom and her little one, but I think I am actually starting to make peace with my infertility.
That being said, I want to be a mom. Now. Right now. Immediately. If not sooner. The days are passing so quickly. Days and weeks and holidays and time we could be together. My maternal instinct is just screaming out for a child to love.
I’ve been a little bit out of sorts the past few days – nothing too dramatic, just quiet and “in my head” more than usual. I suppose it’s natural as you approach such a big birthday to take stock of your life, where you are and where you’re going.
Forty has always been my “drop dead” date for getting pregnant. Yes, I realize that women in their forties have perfectly healthy babies every day, but for me this is the age where the risk of complications starts to outweigh my desire to have a biological child. So, I honestly expected that as this milestone crept closer, my sadness about not having a biological child would probably crescendo.
Yeah . . . not so much. I even TRIED to get worked up about it. It’s just not there.
Now, I haven’t deluded myself into thinking that there won’t be “why not me” moments in the future; that I won’t feel a twinge sometimes when I see a new mom and her little one, but I think I am actually starting to make peace with my infertility.
That being said, I want to be a mom. Now. Right now. Immediately. If not sooner. The days are passing so quickly. Days and weeks and holidays and time we could be together. My maternal instinct is just screaming out for a child to love.
However, my maternal instinct might as well pipe down because there’s no progress on that front.
I have a contact in the State Office of Adoption who, by the way, actually responds to her e-mails . . . in a timely manner . . . and (dare I say it) ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS YOU ASK. Love her!
I have a contact in the State Office of Adoption who, by the way, actually responds to her e-mails . . . in a timely manner . . . and (dare I say it) ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS YOU ASK. Love her!
So last week we sent her a long e-mail simply laying out all of our questions. Because the foster/adopt classes we took were mostly geared towards fostering, we were completely clueless as to what happens now that our home study has been completed and sent to the state. She was a wealth of information, though I was frankly disappointed by some of the answers.
Basically, our case is assigned to a state worker for final approval. If there are questions or the study is in any way incomplete, our local worker is contacted and she should get in touch with us. If/when final approval is given, our local worker will be notified and again, she should get in touch with us.
The little boy we are interested in is still available but another family is being considered for him. If our study is approved in time, it will be sent to that boy’s case worker for review to see if we are a potential match. Any communication done about him will be done through our local worker. Seeing a pattern?
I really like our local worker. She is a lovely person, clearly committed to what she does. But because we want to adopt and not foster, we are simply not a resource for the county. Therefore, we feel like we have sunk to the very bottom of the priority list. Let me make it clear, in no way do I think that we should take precedence over children in danger. That should be the county’s number one priority – seeing that they are cared for and that the people who are fostering them have what they need. But I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect that a call or e-mail is returned in a week’s time. Period. We may not be fostering, but providing a lifelong home for a child is important too, isn’t it?!?!
We’ve also looked at children available for adoption from other states. What do they require? Direct contact between their social worker and ours. I don’t know if our worker would even do that for us. It would mean a lot more work for her.
Anyway, in communicating with my contact at the state, I mentioned that because O & I had expanded our age parameters up to age nine (from age five) I might want to send an updated scrapbook and letter of introduction more geared to an older child. She said that would be fine, and in fact I could send it directly to her and she’d hand deliver it to whoever was reviewing our study. (Told ya - Love her!) She also wanted me to confirm that the information my worker sent in our home study reflected that age change, because that’s the criteria that would be entered into the computer and used to match us with potential children.
So I called our worker and asked if that had been done. She suggested that I come get a new “Child Desired” form, update it with the correct information, and forward it along with my scrapbook. (Translated: No, that information was never changed.)
Can I just tell you how disheartening that is? We discussed the fact that we were interested in an older child during our last two home study visits. How does that not make it into the record? Somewhere? That’s a pretty big thing. It’s the first question they ask, for heaven’s sake. So I am having difficulty believing that our study is going to be complete and pass the first review without them having to come back with a whole pile of questions.
I redid the scrapbook, letter of introduction (a fun one-page letter introducing ourselves to a child), corrected the “Child Desired” form and sent it overnight to my contact for arrival today. She will hand deliver it on Thursday when she’s in the state offices. Hopefully there will someone to actually hand deliver it to. As of this past Friday, our study was still somewhere in the mailroom and had not been assigned to anyone.
Our contact was going to get in touch with the case worker for the little boy we’re interested in and let her know we’re out here and want to be considered. Because she’s already got a family she’s looking at for him, I don’t have a good feeling about it as far as we’re concerned.
The thing I keep trying to remind myself is that there is nothing I can do. I’m not in control of any of this. Instead, I have to believe that there is someone out there much greater than myself who is leading us towards our child, whether it’s that little boy or not, and that someday I’ll look back and see that it all unfolded exactly as it should have.
Then I have to remind myself of the exact same thing five minutes later.
And again eight minutes after that.
**TOMORROW I AM FORTY! WHERE IS MY CHILD?!?!?!**
Can you tell that I need teensy tiny little break?
My wonderful husband is taking me to the mountains for a few days to celebrate my 40th. We are staying in a little motel in Gatlinburg with balconies built directly over the roaring river just outside. A little piece of Heaven! So on that happy note, I’m off to pack.
Happy rest of the week y’all. I shall return, older, poorer (oh the shopping!) and considerably more relaxed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)