May 13, 2008

The call.

Let’s relive the moment together.

Mike took Delaney to school with him because it was his last week of school and everyone is all hippied out on the last week of school often allowing furry animals, child animals and party snacks etc. into their classrooms. And also I was all “HOW ABOUT YOU TAKE DELANEY WITH YOU ON A DADDY DAUGHTER OUTING!?” (Read: Take your child or there is no guarantee of dinner, a clean house OR sex tonight or for the next week).

So they went. It was about 12:30 at this point.

I, being deliriously tired having been awakened to the sweet morning dew at 5 am that morning, did what any normal person would do with a couple free hours and exhaustion infiltrating the inner sanctums of the mind. I took a bunch of pictures of myself!

Every 7 or 8 months or so, I like to study my face. Like I’m a scientific researcher. See how I’m aging. See how other people see me. See what I look like when I say things like “DELANEY TAKE THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH AND GIVE IT BACK TO THAT STRANGER!” Because I don’t have time to study my face everyday in the mirror. That’s totally weird anyway. Everyone knows that if you really want to see your face, you take self portraits of yourself with your camera. Duh.

Don’t act like ya’ll don’t do this. Because we both know that you do. Maybe you delete them afterwards instead of posting them on the internet, but nevertheless, self-portrait-takers are everywhere, living amongst us all.

So, uh, there’s what I looked like the day I got the call of our new son.

After I finished that task, I headed upstairs to blast some music and clean the house. As I was compiling an awesome playlist of tunes from my classy and intellectual repertoire of song options, my best friend Erica called me. I don’t even remember what about, but we were talking, complaining, validating, the usual, when I heard the beep for the other line. I checked my phone and saw “WHFC calling” on the screen.

At this point, I inexplicably morphed into Mary Murphy where I couldn’t control it, everything that came out my mouth was about 4 octaves higher and 20 decibels LOUDER than I intended for it to be. From this moment on, for the rest of the story and for the rest of that day, I was inflicted with this condition.

So, I screamed something to the affect of “OHMYGAADITISOTHERLINESMEEGLESMANDERHIZZLE” and hung up on Erica.

I clicked over to the other line and said, again, with entirely too much force “HELLO?” And lo and behold it was Erin, our sweet social worker on the other end of my yodle. But I couldn’t let myself fully concentrate on what happened next because it registered in my mind at that moment that a somewhat ludicrous rap song was playing from the speakers of my computer, the kind of rap song you can only play when your child is out of the house with her father during his last hippied out week of class. And I thought to myself “This is wrong. I’m getting the call right now and my speakers are busting out some gangster grind”.

So I fidgeted with the speaker volume for a minute and then got flabbergasted and went into the actual music program and finally found the button to make it stop, I wasn’t about to let someone tell me of my new child to the tune of Cypress Hill, Insane in the Brain.

After that fiasco was diverted, I came back to the moment and literally screamed at Erin “TELL ME WHY YOU’RE CALLING!!” to which she hesitated, because I maybe sounded a bit insane? Possibly even mad at the situation. It’s just that I needed to get that out of the way, because if she was calling to say that they had a new fax number or something, well, that was information I needed RIGHT UP FRONT PLEASE.

Erin replied by saying “Jamie, this is the call!”

And then my head spun around 10 times, smoke came out my ears and my eyes exploded in their eyes sockets.

But really, I screamed and screamed and screamed, I think I even told Erin “HOLD ON A MINUTE WHILE I SCREAM” and then screamed some more. And I’m not typically a screamer. I didn’t expect this reaction. It’s like there was this creature in my guts, like in Alien, and the only way to get it out was to scream it out. And scream I did.

Then instead of letting Erin talk and you know, tell me details about our NEW CHILD, I started talking to her! Telling her a play by play account of exactly everything I was doing right then. “Okay, I’m walking in here, I’m sitting down, okay, I’m trying to find a pen, I don’t want to use a pencil! I think I found a pen, I need paper, I’m looking in the drawer for paper, I found paper, I’m setting it here, and OKAY! I’m READY!”

Seriously.

So, after that brief intermission, I think the very next word that registered with me was the word “boy”. And then I lost it again.

More screaming. Except, instead of just general screaming, this time, I was screaming “A BOY! WE HAVE A BOY! IT’S A BOY! ARE YOU SERIOUS! A BOY!”

I can only imagine Erin sitting there on the other line being like “Seriously this is taking so long, I’m craving Cheez-its. I wish I had a big handful of Cheez-its”….

I joined Erin again. I think she asked me “Are you ready again?”

Yes.

Okay. He is 2 years and 4 months old. His name is Siyum Yohannes.

And then she waited, I’m sure to allow for screaming match round 3. But just as soon as it started, the screaming tendency stopped. I had worked through the screaming phase and was moving on. Much to Erin’s dismay. Little did she know that the next phase was far scarier than the screaming phase.

She started to say something to the affect of “Katie is working on putting his documents and pictures together for you but since it’s already 3:30 here, she might not be able to send them to you until tomorro—-

“Nenenenenenenenenoooo. Say Wha? Neneneneneno. That won’t work for me. Tomorrow will not work. I need to see his face! I need his face! BRING ME HIS FACE!

And then Erin started talking to me like I can only imagine a Crisis Negotiator does when talking someone off a cliff. Or how someone talks to a 2 year old about to throw a fit. She was all “Well, she might be able to send them later tonight, it depends, she is working really hard.”

In my mind I was all WORK HARDER! TELL HER TO WORK HARDER! Maybe YOU should work harder! MAYBE EVERYONE NEEDS TO BE WORKING HARDER THEN HUH?????!!!!! But what came out my mouth was “I will give her anything. What does she want? Cookies? Brownies? Money?”

I think at this point Erin realized just exactly how crazy I really am.

So she pawned me off. She gave me Katie’s number faster than a geek on expert level Guitar Hero can play Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters.

My message on Katie’s voicemail:

“Oh hi Katie! This is Jamie and we are just so BEYOND EXCITED about our new son Siyum! YAY! I understand that you have his pictures and that there is this insane notion that we may not get them until tomorrow! I am calling to offer you anything in order to get his photos. I will give you vintage family heirlooms Katie. Name your price.”

While I was waiting for her return call, I speed-dialed Mike. No answer. He has his phone off, he’s in class. CRAP! I left a voicemail that resembled something like “WEGOTOURREFERRAL!CALLMEBACK! NOW!”

Next voicemail for Katie:

“Oh hi again Katie! Listen, I am chewing off my left hand here. Please can you call me back? I need to know what’s happening and when we’ll get to see his face! Okay thanks!”

My life was eerily quiet. I had no pictures of our son. I had no husband to scream with. I had no Delaney to squeeze. I had no one calling me back from my agency. I was paralyzed with anticipation of either getting his pictures, getting a phone call from my agency and getting a return call from Mike. And none of them were happening.

I emailed my agency yahoo group. I had to tell SOMEONE! WE HAD OUR REFERRAL! HELLO! I’m just chillin here at my house by myself with no pictures of his face!

Next voicemail for Katie:

“Katie, it’s Jamie again. WHY ARE YOU HOLDING MY SON’S PICTURES HOSTAGE?! It’s been an HOUR and a HALF!”

Everyone on my yahoo group was congratulating me, telling me how wonderful this was. It was awesome. I asked who lived closest to the WHFC office and could go be my picture avenger and retrieve his pictures for me. And they laughed. And I was all “NO REALLY.” I got some private emails telling me to hang in there, I’ll get his face soon. Enjoy the moment, etc…

At about 10 minutes till close on the east coast, I called the Manager of the Ethiopia program. Surely SHE would call me back and give me the FRICKIN status of my son’s face. But no. Nothing. I left her three voicemails, in addition to the three I had already left Katie. And then just for good measure, I sent them both two emails.

I know. Looking back, I could have done without the last 5 attempts.

At this point, it’s been 2 hours, and my agency office has been closed for 30 minutes and I’m just hanging on by a string to my sanity, HOPING someone is working late and is working late on my son’s face.

I forgot to also mention that I had been repeat auto dialing my husband this entire time. I probably logged in 85 calls only to continue getting his voicemail. “Hi! This is Mike! Thanks for calling, please leave me a message!” YA I’LL LEAVE YOU A MESSAGE, I’LL LEAVE YOU A MESSAGE UPSIDE YOUR HEAD IF YOU DON’T TURN YOUR PHONE ON AND CALL ME BACK! WE HAVE A SON YOU MORON! I KNOW YOUR CLASS HAS BEEN OVER FOR AN HOUR!”

But then. What’s this? The garage door? The lone Ranger? Returning? After all this time?

I RUN downstairs and throw open the door. Where have you been? Oh they were running some errands, stopped and got an ice cream, whatever, wrote a sonnet, weeded alongside the highway, you know, whatever…. forgot to turn phone back on. Sorry.

I said, “Oh. Okay. Well, you have a 2 year old son.”

Mike made that face that he makes when he sees Disneyland. Or the ocean. Like a 6 year old again, pure excitement. He was all “Are you serious? I have a SON?! Do we have pictures?!”

Uh about that. No. Not yet.

And then he said, “Well why not? Have you asked them to send them?” Like, “What have you been doing this whole time?”

And poor Mike had no idea. He had no idea what he was walking into. Because I. I was a madwoman at this point. I was balls to the walls crazy with anticipation still, really livid at my agency for not communicating with me, entirely too worked up and also a little thirsty. I hadn’t eaten or drank anything since the call. About 3 hours ago at this point. So, when Mike stepped into the bathroom to pee and his peeing took WELL BEYOND an average pee time, like the longest pee ever recorded in history, well, it was too much. His pee sent me over the edge.

And instead of being all glowy and sparkle-happy when I told him our son’s name and information, I was acting like a possessed woman, going back and forth on the emotional extremes like a yo-yo. Giggly and then exasperated. Elated and then vexed. Gleeful and then pissed. I even went to send another email but Mike stopped me and said “I’m saving you from yourself.”

Another hour went by. Like torture. Mike tried to motivate me to finish cleaning the house. It didn’t work. All I wanted to do was sit and stare at my inbox. I was trying to WILL the pictures to come. In the mean time, Mike checked the mail and had received some stupid chain letter weird scam crap about sending the top 6 people a dollar and then you would get EIGHT HUNDRED TWENTY SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS BACK! For some reason, Mike became fixated on this letter, this junk mail, and kicked me off the computer to research it. And this nearly sent me into convulsions. HOW DARE YOU! YOU’RE FOCUSING ON A CHAIN LETTER! WE HAVE A SON AND HIS FACE SHOULD BE IN OUR INBOX!

About 20 minutes later, I got a call from Erin saying his stuff was ready 4 HOURS after she originally called. She had sent us his face. Go check our inbox. Like I hadn’t been doing that obsessively for my whole life.

I BOLTED back to the computer and pulled up the email. And I looked upon that sweet face and smiled. He was beautiful. And sweet. And precious. And perfect. And he was our son. Mike said “He just couldn’t be any cuter could he?” and we both fought the urge to reach into the screen and pinch his cute cheeks. We fell in love and the previous four hours of anguish, the mental and emotional treadmill I had been on, it all vanished. Along with the 10.5 months of waiting. Gone. We had his face. We had a little boy. He was a part of our family and we already loved him.

We showed Delaney his pictures and she said “Can he come over right now?”

Then she drew a picture of of us flying in an airplane over the ocean water with fish to Africa where Siyum is waiting in his house. Complete with arrows and smiley faces. And I’d upload it here for you all to see because it’s just the cutest thing ever, but I’m tired of writing this post. This is the longest post I have ever done. And I’m tired. That’s it. Enough. The end.

May 8, 2008

Ya’ll. We have a son. A 2 year old son.

FOR REAL! AAAAHHHH!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

We got the call this afternoon at 1:30 and then proceeded to NOT get his pictures until 5:30. Okay, and you all know me. You can imagine what those 4 hours were like for me. And everyone within a 1 mile vicinity of me. I was losing. my. mind. I HAD to see his face. BRING ME HIS FACE!!!!!

But people. It was worth it. OOOHHHHH so worth it. We saw that face and now we are forever in love with that face.

He has HUGE brown eyes, big beautiful lips, big cheeks and the sweetest, most kissable face there ever was. We are smitten with his pouty, lovable face.

The story of the call to come soon. It’s good stuff. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, my craziness was in full effect, an all time high, really. I was startling even myself.

BUT YA’LL WE HAVE A SON!!!!!

Love,

Mike, Jamie, Delaney and SIYUM

And PS. Chan was on the money. She guessed May 8th!

May 2, 2008

You guys are so great. I love the internet. Who knew blogging could be this AWESOME? I’ll tell you, Al Gore did, that’s who. Let’s all have a moment of silence for Al. Thank you Al for the internet, for giving me the opportunity to blog and make internet BFF’s like I have.

Thank you for the concern and encouragement and comments on my last post. Everyone, except Anonymous, was so fantastic and sweet. Y’all are my Holla-back-girls.

The end of No Pants Day is nearing it’s end, I’m afraid, and we have not heard from our agency with news of a new battle station kid. It looks as though our wait will continue into next week. Whoever put their money on Julie totally lost. Which, people, it’s your fault if you placed money on a woman who painted her house purple. I can’t help you there.

This week has been an exciting week though, being on alert like this. I feel so special. Like I’m on call to save the world, like my heightened level of security and alertness is crucial to the well-being of all living organisms somehow. I don’t know. It’s a weird sense of being. Knowing that this phone call, one that will change our lives forever, is coming at any moment, it’s making me jittery and shaky and sweaty. It’s like the feeling of knowing a referral is coming so soon and the feeling of being off heroine for 3 days, they are one in the same.

Anonymous is probably thinking “I KNEW she was a Heroine addict” right now. For the record, that was a joke, I’m not a Heroine addict.

And I’d like to end my post on that note.

Hoping for good news soon. Thanks again ya’ll. It’s nice to be on this roller-coaster together.

Jamie

April 28, 2008

Okay. A lot to catch up on. I’ll be quick and summarize.

We are no longer requesting siblings. For a variety of reasons, one being that Mike has ALWAYS wanted to just do one at a time and I have always been the one to be like “NO! Let’s adopt SIX at a time! C’mon!” and another reason being that we are tired of waiting and Delaney is ready for a sibling. Like, NOW.

So, we changed our request to a single child, either gender, between the ages of 12 months and 2.5 years. We changed this on Friday.

AND I THINK WE HAVE A SON. A 2 year old son.

Our agency sends out a weekly update to all the families on the waiting lists and it shows the referral activity of children so far each month. Well today’s showed a 2 year old little boy that went to a family that waited 10 months (WE have waited 10 months) and I think that little boy is ours. Our Social Worker would be the one to call with the referral and she leaves at 3:00 every day, meaning I think she left the office before our referral was ready and that’s why she hasn’t called.

So, I’m freaking out. And I don’t think we will know anything for sure until the morning. But I’m 70%, no 80%, probably 90% sure that we have a 2 year old son.

95%

But maybe not.

But maybe so.

I think so.

But it could not be so.

I’m freaking out.

Jamie

Edited to add: FALSE ALARM. Another family, who ALSO waited 10 months and ALSO changed their request at the exact SAME time as us got that referral. So false alarm. But I love that my agency called me at 7:00 pm to let me know the situation so I could stop freaking out. I love my agency. Stay tuned, though, because we really are the next family on the toddler list now and should have good news very soon. I’m sorry I yelled at you all.

March 31, 2008

What happened last week was, I wrote this really whiny disgusting adoption post where I said things like “WHY are all my FRIENDS getting THEIR referrals and NOT ME!” “When is it MY TURN?!” “ALL THESE BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN ARE FINDING THEIR FOREVER HOMES!” “WHAAAAAAA”…. like that.

And then the Internet Gods reached out from the computer and slapped me across the face with my Scottish Man-Bum-in-a-Kilt Mousepad and then proceeded to delete my blog post, never to be seen again.

Well, those of you on Googlereader and Bloglines can see it again, it’s still on there. But EVERYONE ELSE has been spared.

I believe this to be a good thing since I’m feeling much better now, I’m sorry about that. I basically drunk dialed the internet. I blogged in a state of emotional distress. It was not one of my finer moments and I apologize to those of you, the Designated Drivers, who talked me through it and cleaned up my vomit, my verbal vomit, through emails.

I was considering switching agencies in order to potentially get kids faster. And just typing that made me want to reach up and slap my own face again because the sound of my own voice was resembling one of those raging psychotic woman-on-a-mission Adoptive Moms who only see babies in their eyes. I always told myself I would never become like that and then I was. Just like that. On a mission to get kids no matter what, no matter the agency, no matter the timing, no matter the process, no matter my gut feelings that keep bubbling up like acid reflux that say “JUST SHUT IT AND LET IT HAPPEN AS IT HAPPENS! YOU’RE SUCH AN OBSESSIVE CONTROL FREAK JAMIE!” which I thought was borderline rude. But my acid reflux (a non-religious person’s way of saying “spirit”) made a good point, I needed to chill out.

My pal Katy, who attends OCFA (Obsessive Control Freaks Anonymous) with me, reminded me that there is no way to control adoption and to stop trying. So, I was all, Okay! I guess I’ll just stop this very minute then! And I picked up my basket full of posies and skipped along my way!

So, I’m working on that.

And that’s what happened with the blog post that never lived it’s life as a blog post. In actuality, my hosting company switched servers and the switch caused some problems here and there. Which made me look like MY problems were even bigger problems since ya’ll thought I deleted that post myself and that’s not UNLIKE me to do something like that, but this time, this one time, the craziness was only PARTLY due to me.

February 28, 2008

I WISH that title had something to do with our adoption. But lo, it does not. On that front we are looking at a few more days before we get our new Immigration approval back since we moved to our new house. Once we get that, we are back on the gravy train. The LONG long really really long gravy train which is the waiting list. And on THAT end, we probably have another 3 months (or, you know, TWELVE, it’s hard to really say) before we get our referral.

Why, you ask, is this taking so long? Well, my internets, the easy answer is: I don’t know and the long answer delves into popularity within the Ethiopia program now since China is not so hot and Guatemala is not so hot and Haiti is not so hot and Vietnam is not so hot. Intermix the popularity with the fact that we are using one of the most popular agencies within the Ethiopia program and the fact that our request for 2 kiddos under 3 (biologically related) is a somewhat narrow request. And that’s the long answer in a nutshell. But in answer to the more FRUSTRATING question which is WHY were you told you’d get a referral within 6 months when in actuality it looks like it will be more like FIFTEEN? And to that I would say, TRUST ME, WE WONDER THIS ALL THE TIME.

Wow. I had some frustration pent up, no? Sorry about that.

Whew.

In regard to the title of this post, I’m talking about the most dreadful moment in a Parent’s life. A moment in which you cry, scream, curse the GODS! Unparalleled agony, surreal shock. All of this, I went through yesterday. A day forever embalmed into our memories. The day that Delaney’s cousin cut off all her hair. CUT. OFF. ALL. HER. HAIR.

Please digest.

I know.

Picture two four year old girls, a pair of craft scissors, a Barbie vanity pushed up against the door and 25 minutes of unsupervised play.

And then picture the tufts of beautiful sun-bathed, silky hair all over the floor, the scattered remains, the MURDERED, butchered strands of love that lay upon the floor.

THESE strands of love. Taken from us far too soon. Much too soon.

And then there was Delaney’s face. Her big, saucer eyes peering out from behind what I can only describe as an insane asylum freakness of hair. So thrilled to show me her new do. So happy about what they had done. That is, until I LOST MY MIND WITH GRIEF and was GASPING in shock, called my sister upstairs and she proceeded to cover her mouth in sheer terror. And it was then that Delaney, confusedly started to flip out as well, realizing that something very very bad had happened.

When Delaney gets confused and frustrated she starts blurting out sentences that don’t make any sense whatsoever but she says them in a way that insinuates anger and frustration in her tone. So, at that moment Delaney started yelling “THAT’S NOT EVEN BETTER! AND THIS IS NOT ANY SENSE! YOU’RE WRONG! THIS IS NOT ANY BETTER MOM! THIS..! THIS IS NOT..!”

And then I held her while she sobbed.

I picked up her sweet face with strands of loose hair hanging off it and told her she was not in trouble, everything was fine and now she would have really cute short hair. I took a deep breath, threw her in the car and ran her over to my hair stylist for an emergency fix while my sister went searching for the culprit who had mysteriously gone missing once the evidence surfaced. Once “the REAL and ONLY haircut girl” finished the new pixie cut topped off with super short bangs, Delaney looked in the mirror and said “I LOVE my new hair!”

And it IS really cute. And really short. Boy short, to be exact.

I called Mike shortly before he came home from work to warn him and to make sure his reaction was that of “OH MY GOODNESS THAT HAIRCUT IS THE MOST AWESOME COOLEST HAIRCUT EVER!” as opposed to his more natural reaction of “WHAT IN THE? WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR?!” He was a really good Daddy and made a really good deal out of it. And when she walked away, he turned to me and said “She’s turning into the Lesbian we always hoped she’d be.” Which is what Mike says when he is trying to cope with her growing up into a teenager and therefore being within a 100 mile vicinity of another male teenager. “Lesbian at least until College is finished” her Dad always said. Ah, the fond memories being created in this home.

Pictures coming soon, of both cuts. As soon as our new computer is done being built. (still loathing HP, by the way). Until then I leave you with your imagination and your nightmares.

January 16, 2008

It seems the longer we wait for our referral, the more drastic my hair will become.

Please be nice. I have lost all self control, CAN’T YOU SEE THAT?!?

I do like it. And for a few days, at least, if I want to think about something else besides our adoption wait, I can look in the mirror and think “something happened to my hair” instead. Which is actually LOADS more entertaining than my daily inner monologue as of late.

Just to give you an idea, this is what goes on everyday inside the command center of the Battle Station:

How much longer. HOW MUCH LONGER!?! I wonder if anyone got their referral today. I bet there were, like, TWENTY referrals today! I’ll check my email. Hmmm, no referrals. I’ll check again. Hmmm, still no referrals. Maybe now. Nope. Now? No. Now. No. Now. No…… I’ll check again in a few minutes.

And that right there, folks, is a readers digest version of what it’s like to wait for a referral. Which we have been doing for 7 months now.

But enough about that, what do you think of my HAIR?!

Oh and I almost forgot! THANK YOU for the comments on the last post. I am writing the other Mother a note to thank her for her note. And I loved the suggestions to talk it out with Delaney next time instead of making her repeat “ego chants” and then going on a wild witch hunt. You guys sure are good about thinking about stuff. (That last sentence was supposed to be said with a country drawl). Here’s an interhug for you. And if you all ever need advice on how to handle a tough situation involving, say, your tivo. You just let me know. I am THERE. There for YOU.

Speaking of Tivo. Off to watch American Idol. YAY! Adoption wait? What?

November 17, 2007

The ever awesome and totally radical Jess of Du Wax Loolu asked me to write a guest post for her while she parades around Germany with her stud-muffin Torsten.

So my post for today is over there.

By the way, she asked me to write about adoption since she and Torsten want to adopt someday. And since I can say whatever I want on somebody else’s blog, I laid it ALLLLLL out there. As mentioned in the post, please direct all crazy comments and spiteful hate mail towards me. LEAVE JESS ALONE you hate mail sending Vulchers.