We just got out of the referral appointment and it went well. We are getting a referral for Alex, and saw a couple of pictures we had not seen before (incl one when he was by our guess 1 yr old--and SO cute!). I tell you, he's still smiling in all these pictures. We honestly didn't learn that much, and want to be careful about what we share publicly, but the medical information we received was all repeated. Alex was born with very low birth weight (which I assume means a premature birth, but I don't know for sure--just makes sense with the CP). He goes by a nickname. They say he has a calm character. We're speculating a bit from information received, but we think he entered the orphanage around one year old. But we don't know, it could have been earlier. We pick up the referral around 3pm tomorrow.
People are right when they say this is a paper-heavy process...the office is stacked with papers and phone calls (not emails) were being made to make absolutely sure Alex was still in that particular institution. The lady who handled the appointment was nice and very impressed with Jerry's Russian--everyone is!
More later, Susan
p.s. the plan is we meet Alex on Monday....
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Here we are (thanks to you!)
So here we are, safe and sound in the capital of Alex’s home country (we still can’t mention its name!), after a grueling 20-hour trip. In a few hours, we will have our appointment at the government’s adoption office, where we will get the referral to see Alex. Unfortunately, ever since they reorganized that department, they no longer give you the paperwork the same day; we have to wait to receive it until tomorrow, and since tomorrow is Friday, we won’t be able to see Alex until Monday. So we will have some down time in this Eastern European capital city over the weekend. Then on Monday we will be driven by Serge, the head of the Reece’s Rainbow facilitation team in this country, about four hours south of here to the institution where Alex is living, and then we will get to see him.
We’re hoping for a fast process for several reasons, one of which would be the impending European cup in early June—Europeans drop everything for their “football.” Another would be…we miss our kids at home! And we know that our youngest two year old is probably wondering when we’re coming back. We’ve had some limited success talking with them on the phone ($14 for three minutes!) and over Skype, although we’ve had a number of technical difficulties, not to mention some difficulty figuring out Skype’s very poorly planned user interface.
In the past week we haven’t had time to post anything because we’ve been insanely busy packing and preparing to be gone for several weeks (paying bills, setting up stuff for kids, doing all the gardening that would need to be done over the next month, etc.). During that week, we really felt the support, encouragement, and excitement of our wider community—family, friends, and acquaintances. Many, many people have stopped to ask about the adoption; many have offered their help, especially in terms of supporting Susan’s mom as she cares for four kids alone; many have offered prayers, which are deeply appreciated; and we’ve also received more financial help—including an anonymous donation, apparently from the same person who sent us an anonymous gift at Christmastime. You might remember that I (Jerry) was extremely reluctant to enter into this process, mainly for practical reasons, and also because I had a glimmering of how challenging it would be. (Good thing I was ignorant of the details!) In fact, I had ticked off on my fingers to Susan all the reasons why we couldn’t do this—good, solid reasons! But not an hour later we were praying at the Cathedral and I had a very strong sense that God was calling us to do this. It was striking because I have very rarely had such a strong. clear sense of God’s call. And when I pushed back against it a little, one of the things that came back to me was something like, “I want you to do this, not only for the sake of a child, but because of the many good things that will come out of this for you and your family.” The tremendous support we have felt from friends, family, and community members throughout this process has definitely got to be part of that outpouring of blessing. It is humbling to be on the receiving end of it.
Blogging this experience feels a little narcissistic, especially with so many people in our world, not to mention our immediate community and family, going through so much right now. I think in particular of my sister and her family, who are getting ready to welcome a child, Dominic, who will be born with very serious birth defects right around the time when we will be coming home with Alex. I also think about a family whose kids attend school with our kids who just lost a son to suicide. And of course we always remember in prayer the many children around the world who are suffering in worse conditions than Alex. So: we don’t want to live in an adoption bubble, to the exclusion of the needs of others around the world. But we will continue to write about this experience for the sake of our family (especially the kids!) and the extended community who have become very real partners with us on this journey.
Speaking of which, I’ve written up a little post about our trip over here for anyone who cares (mainly our kids and families); you’ll find that below.
We’re hoping for a fast process for several reasons, one of which would be the impending European cup in early June—Europeans drop everything for their “football.” Another would be…we miss our kids at home! And we know that our youngest two year old is probably wondering when we’re coming back. We’ve had some limited success talking with them on the phone ($14 for three minutes!) and over Skype, although we’ve had a number of technical difficulties, not to mention some difficulty figuring out Skype’s very poorly planned user interface.
In the past week we haven’t had time to post anything because we’ve been insanely busy packing and preparing to be gone for several weeks (paying bills, setting up stuff for kids, doing all the gardening that would need to be done over the next month, etc.). During that week, we really felt the support, encouragement, and excitement of our wider community—family, friends, and acquaintances. Many, many people have stopped to ask about the adoption; many have offered their help, especially in terms of supporting Susan’s mom as she cares for four kids alone; many have offered prayers, which are deeply appreciated; and we’ve also received more financial help—including an anonymous donation, apparently from the same person who sent us an anonymous gift at Christmastime. You might remember that I (Jerry) was extremely reluctant to enter into this process, mainly for practical reasons, and also because I had a glimmering of how challenging it would be. (Good thing I was ignorant of the details!) In fact, I had ticked off on my fingers to Susan all the reasons why we couldn’t do this—good, solid reasons! But not an hour later we were praying at the Cathedral and I had a very strong sense that God was calling us to do this. It was striking because I have very rarely had such a strong. clear sense of God’s call. And when I pushed back against it a little, one of the things that came back to me was something like, “I want you to do this, not only for the sake of a child, but because of the many good things that will come out of this for you and your family.” The tremendous support we have felt from friends, family, and community members throughout this process has definitely got to be part of that outpouring of blessing. It is humbling to be on the receiving end of it.
Blogging this experience feels a little narcissistic, especially with so many people in our world, not to mention our immediate community and family, going through so much right now. I think in particular of my sister and her family, who are getting ready to welcome a child, Dominic, who will be born with very serious birth defects right around the time when we will be coming home with Alex. I also think about a family whose kids attend school with our kids who just lost a son to suicide. And of course we always remember in prayer the many children around the world who are suffering in worse conditions than Alex. So: we don’t want to live in an adoption bubble, to the exclusion of the needs of others around the world. But we will continue to write about this experience for the sake of our family (especially the kids!) and the extended community who have become very real partners with us on this journey.
Speaking of which, I’ve written up a little post about our trip over here for anyone who cares (mainly our kids and families); you’ll find that below.
Traveling to Alex's country
Here is the story of our journey to Alex’s country.
Susan’s mom flew up from Alabama on Saturday. The kids were very excited to see her, even our two-year-old, who mainly knows her through phone calls and Skype, being too young to remember his visit to her house last summer. She came bearing gifts and promises of smoothies and other fun things to spoil grandchildren. I prepared some care instructions for her, as well as a calendar of the kids’ many activities over the next three weeks (which includes the end of school, field trips, etc.). The care instructions have become something of a joke around here, because they run 32 pages, single-spaced (well, in 14 point type). But if you think about it, there’s a lot to tell—safety information, medical information, contact numbers, and the toddler’s basic schedule. Kids need routine, especially in a time of change. I also prepared a map of Winona and a list of fun things to do around town.
On Monday night, the night before our trip, we took the kids out for a celebratory ice cream sundae at the Lakeview Drive-in and put them to bed with promises to see them in three weeks. Each of the older kids expressed at least a little anxiety about our departure; our youngest daughter expressed a lot, eventually crying herself to sleep.
Last-minute preparations kept us up past 11 again. Then our oldest daughter woke up at around midnight complaining of nausea. (She actually stayed home from school the next day.) And then I woke up at 4 because of pre-travel nerves, which meant going into this trip on less than four hours’ sleep.
At around quarter after five we were picked up by our friend and neighbor, Todd—one of half a dozen people to offer to do that for us (thank you all!). We had a gorgeous ride to the Cities on Highway 61, which runs along the Mississippi River, and a good conversation besides.
We flew United Airlines from Minneapolis to Neward on a tiny little puddle jumper (we did get an exit row), then had a three-hour layover in Newark. We tried connecting with the kids on Skype but all of our technology kept going haywire, which was disappointing. The TSA screening, which we had to do twice (once in Minneapolis, once in Newark due to a change of terminals), was its usual unpleasant self. In fact I was wishing I had my camera out because we witnessed a YouTube moment when a TSA officer completely flew off the handle, shouting at a woman who refused to go through the full-body scanner. “Okay, you just wait there until you cool down, lady! You enjoy waiting, Have fun!” And then to her colleagues: “She’s a bit crazy, that woman is!” Funny, the only person acting crazy was Ms. TSA. The woman in question submitted to a pat-down without any fuss, but the TSA folks made sure to make it into a public spectacle, yelling, “Female opt out!” and stuff. In fact, there was one guy who seemed to be the designated yeller, because he kept yelling at the top of his voice to everyone in line.
The security process in Frankfurt was an interesting contrast to this—calm, orderly, quick, and quiet. No one so much as raising their voice. Hmmm.
After the frustration trying to Skype the kids, we realized that our travel agency FAILED when it came to ensuring we got exit row or bulkhead seats for my 6’7” frame. They told us to request at the gate; turns out you have to reserve online 24 hours in advance. By the time we got to the gate, the exit row seats were all taken. That meant spending the next seven hours crammed into a tiny seat—and definitely no sleep.
On the upside, the service on Luftansa was excellent. The flight was on one of those jumbo jets…our kids will think it’s cool so I included some photos. (Everyone gets their own movie screen!) They served a delicious dinner and breakfast.
We swung through Frankfurt, where I got pulled out of line for a random security check. The guy who did it was very calm, joking around…it wasn’t a problem at all. We spent our short layover in Frankfurt at McDonald’s, which had huge windows looking out onto the airport. Huge windows with lots of early morning light is just the ticket when your body is wondering what the heck you’re doing up and around at 1 in the morning.
I’ll write about our arrival in Alex’s home country later today. Right now, we’re off to the adoption appointment!
Susan’s mom flew up from Alabama on Saturday. The kids were very excited to see her, even our two-year-old, who mainly knows her through phone calls and Skype, being too young to remember his visit to her house last summer. She came bearing gifts and promises of smoothies and other fun things to spoil grandchildren. I prepared some care instructions for her, as well as a calendar of the kids’ many activities over the next three weeks (which includes the end of school, field trips, etc.). The care instructions have become something of a joke around here, because they run 32 pages, single-spaced (well, in 14 point type). But if you think about it, there’s a lot to tell—safety information, medical information, contact numbers, and the toddler’s basic schedule. Kids need routine, especially in a time of change. I also prepared a map of Winona and a list of fun things to do around town.
On Monday night, the night before our trip, we took the kids out for a celebratory ice cream sundae at the Lakeview Drive-in and put them to bed with promises to see them in three weeks. Each of the older kids expressed at least a little anxiety about our departure; our youngest daughter expressed a lot, eventually crying herself to sleep.
Last-minute preparations kept us up past 11 again. Then our oldest daughter woke up at around midnight complaining of nausea. (She actually stayed home from school the next day.) And then I woke up at 4 because of pre-travel nerves, which meant going into this trip on less than four hours’ sleep.
At around quarter after five we were picked up by our friend and neighbor, Todd—one of half a dozen people to offer to do that for us (thank you all!). We had a gorgeous ride to the Cities on Highway 61, which runs along the Mississippi River, and a good conversation besides.
 |
| Todd and Susan ... obviously morning people! |
 |
| On the flight to Grankfurt |
 |
| A TV for every passenger makes for a very quiet plane. Here Susanis tracking the progress of the flight. |
We flew United Airlines from Minneapolis to Neward on a tiny little puddle jumper (we did get an exit row), then had a three-hour layover in Newark. We tried connecting with the kids on Skype but all of our technology kept going haywire, which was disappointing. The TSA screening, which we had to do twice (once in Minneapolis, once in Newark due to a change of terminals), was its usual unpleasant self. In fact I was wishing I had my camera out because we witnessed a YouTube moment when a TSA officer completely flew off the handle, shouting at a woman who refused to go through the full-body scanner. “Okay, you just wait there until you cool down, lady! You enjoy waiting, Have fun!” And then to her colleagues: “She’s a bit crazy, that woman is!” Funny, the only person acting crazy was Ms. TSA. The woman in question submitted to a pat-down without any fuss, but the TSA folks made sure to make it into a public spectacle, yelling, “Female opt out!” and stuff. In fact, there was one guy who seemed to be the designated yeller, because he kept yelling at the top of his voice to everyone in line.
The security process in Frankfurt was an interesting contrast to this—calm, orderly, quick, and quiet. No one so much as raising their voice. Hmmm.
After the frustration trying to Skype the kids, we realized that our travel agency FAILED when it came to ensuring we got exit row or bulkhead seats for my 6’7” frame. They told us to request at the gate; turns out you have to reserve online 24 hours in advance. By the time we got to the gate, the exit row seats were all taken. That meant spending the next seven hours crammed into a tiny seat—and definitely no sleep.
On the upside, the service on Luftansa was excellent. The flight was on one of those jumbo jets…our kids will think it’s cool so I included some photos. (Everyone gets their own movie screen!) They served a delicious dinner and breakfast.
We swung through Frankfurt, where I got pulled out of line for a random security check. The guy who did it was very calm, joking around…it wasn’t a problem at all. We spent our short layover in Frankfurt at McDonald’s, which had huge windows looking out onto the airport. Huge windows with lots of early morning light is just the ticket when your body is wondering what the heck you’re doing up and around at 1 in the morning.
I’ll write about our arrival in Alex’s home country later today. Right now, we’re off to the adoption appointment!
Monday, May 21, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
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