Two Good Notes About International Adoption

Yesterday, J and I met with a therapist who specializes in adoption and trauma counseling in order to complete a basic psychological evaluation required for our dossier.

It was another instance of laying ourselves bare, sharing about our childhood, our relationship, our strengths and weaknesses. This is something I did not realize would be a common occurrence through these initial stages. Justin joked with the therapist that we have become pretty good at this: via our written autobiographies, home study visit, complete stranger's inquiries, etc. I suppose that is true, but it is still odd for me to reflect on the fact that many strangers now know more about me than many of my friends do.

I don't think it's necessary for me to go into the details of the actual appointment, but I did want to share two "a ha" moments that we both had during our conversation. 

1. Our child will come home having experienced things that we will never quite know. This will no doubt impact her in ways not visible to others.
As the therapist put it: When you have a child with a recognizable special need, such as being in a wheelchair, there are some 'societal norms' or typical responses that people tend to display: allowing more space to wheel by, adapting activities to encompass a wheelchair, or even acknowledging with sympathy (For the latter, I am not saying this is an appropriate reaction, at all, but realistically, is sometimes a response to someone with a special need or disability.)

However, our child, upon arriving home, will essentially have her "mind in a wheelchair". 

What does this mean?

Well, we know that our adopted child will likely not behave her "biological age", due to myriad factors. For example, she may not be caught up with typical developmental goals, may not react in ways expected for her "age", etc. We are learning about techniques to support her and to create a healthy environment for attachment, growth, and stability.

However, our a ha came with the therapist's note that because her "special need" (this term appears to be very encompassing in the adoption world) may not be visible to the outside world, outsiders often don't know how to react. Based on her behavior, strangers will make comments that are unnecessary, inappropriate, and not helpful. Friends and family may be confused or concerned. My gut reaction, as a mama-bear, is to snap, "well it's none of their business". And that's true. But it is reality, and all in all, there is no perfect answer or solution--it just is.

2.  We are at a kind of "disadvantage", already raising a biological child.
I'm sure I cocked my head to the right and either furrowed my forehead or raised my left eyebrow when the therapist said this; a knee jerk reaction, when I'd been working so hard to be open to listening and learning, and remaining neutral. 

What she meant by this is that we have come a long way in our last 21 months, raising Eisley. We have read books and sought advice. We have tried many things to support her learning and development, to connect with and engage with her, to redirect and scold her (appropriately), to praise and celebrate her. We have failed and we have succeeded, and we have learned SO MUCH. In some of this, we know what works for Eisley: generally what responses to expect from her, what might work/might not work, and can sometimes safely rely on auto-pilot to get through various parts of the day. We have become parents!

With our adopted child, the parenting we've currently mastered (let's all pause here and laugh at this phrase) will just plain not work in the same ways. I know what you're thinking: "Duh, Jordan. I have two/three/seven/twelve biological kids, and I didn't raise any of them in the exact same way, because they're just plain different people." 
Yes, that is true. 
However, what is also true is that parenting a child from a hard place, a child who has experienced trauma, institutionalized care, malnutrition, etc....well, parenting that child is just different, and we cannot rely on our current library of knowledge from parenting Eisley.  These differences range from how you handle food, physical touch, learning, discipline, sleep...the whole gamut. 
A couple of examples:
One we've heard many times already is that time outs are not a method of discipline that is successful for a child who does not have a secure attachment to their mom and dad yet.
Another example: when developing attachment, baby-wearing is very helpful, and it is a good idea to ask others to refrain from holding and carrying our child for quite some time, in order for us to establish our connection with her: to demonstrate that we are not just another one of a multitude of rotating caregivers, we are mom and dad, and we are here to stay. 

The final note we took away was simply a good reminder: we can read and learn to our heart's content, but we will not know what works until she is with us, until we know her and all her unique and special traits. And we just cannot wait for her to come home. 
 

Home Study

We are making incremental progress. Step by step, checking items off of our (long) list of to-dos. A few friends have asked us what a 'home study' actually is, so I thought I'd share a short post about our experience with this process. 

A home study is common in the foster and adoption world, and accomplishes a few things:
it creates a space for us to educate ourselves about what we're stepping into; allows our agency to evaluate our suitability as prospective adoptive parents, and ultimately ends in a formal document that will be included in our dossier to Haiti that highlights why we're a good match.
The requirements of a home study vary across states, agencies, and countries, so this is just a recap of our experience, living near Seattle, with our specific agency, preparing for our adoption from Haiti. (I feel like I am full of caveats when I write lately!)

Our agency is incredibly organized (I mean, they've been around this block a few times, since they've existed in some capacity since the '70's, and all) and provided us with an electronic toolkit that contains everything we'd need for our home study, and then some.
The key elements:

• The paperwork: If we've talked about the adoption process in person, you've probably heard me lament about the paperwork. It's...a lot. Documents we've had to gather or prepare for our home study include a complete overview of our finances/assets/debts/regular expenditures; tax returns; pay stubs; four detailed reference questionnaires from friends; a guardianship declaration; basic medical assessments signed by a doctor; birth and marriage certificates; proof of passports; pictures; fingerprinting for safety clearance... I'm sure I'm forgetting something here. Not to mention that much of this is also required for our dossier (another story, another day).
• Autobiography: We each separately completed a detailed autobiography.
  "How detailed?" you ask? Oh, just 87 questions detailed.
  Questions ranged from motivation to adopt; experiences growing up and the impact of primary caregivers; personal strengths and weaknesses; challenges faced in life; relationship history; physical and mental health history; parenting experience/planning/expectations.... We completed and shared this with our social worker prior to her home visit, to give her the ability to learn about us, and spark other questions she might need us to answer, in order for her to produce our home study document. Creating this was intense and deeply personal. We each chipped away at this over the span of 1-2 months, carving out time a few nights each week.
• Parenting Plan: This was another long and challenging writing assignment, also sent to our social worker prior to her home visit.
  Ranging from 35-65 questions (depending on if we are adopting an older child or child with special needs), the plan lays out topics that are imperative for an adoptive parent to be thinking about and planning for. This included things such as post-adoption logistics (time/pay when off work, insurance, childcare plans and contingencies, etc.); potential impacts of institutionalization and prenatal exposures; and the reality of life as a multi-cultural/transracial family. Essentially, this asked us to do our research, identify local resources, and think hard about some of the challenges we might face.
  We partnered on the task, and at times felt overwhelmed and emotional. When thinking through some of the challenges our child might face when she comes home, I could sense the mama-bear in me rising up, and a fierce sense of protection growing for her already.
• Training: We're required to complete something like 10-12 hours of training. This sounds like an inordinate amount, but I am incredibly grateful for the training and resources we've been provided thus far, and hungry for more. We spent a full-day training in-person at our agency's office, and completed the remaining hours through recorded webinars. Similar to the topics covered in the parenting plan, the training was honest and pulled no punches. For example, webinar topics included multicultural families (and the ignorance we may face), tantrums (and how to handle them when they last for an hour or more), and more. We spaced them out over several weeks, in order to digest, discuss, research further, and absorb. This is not something to take lightly.  And while these hours are just the "official" training requirement, we have scads of articles to read, and I plan to focus my efforts and energy here once our dossier is in Haiti and we are anxiously and impatiently awaiting next steps. While I quickly learned with Eisley that reading a parenting book/blog or listening to your grandma's-friend's-aunt's expert advice does not make you an expert parent to your child, I am one for approaching things as eyes-dwide-open as possible.
  In fact, if there's one thing we've already taken away from our learning, it's that we will have to parent this child differently--not just because she is her own unique being, but because she will be joining us with unique trauma and experiences that color her very existence.
• Home Visit: For the final portion of this process, our social worker came out to our house to interview us, ensure we have a safe abode for our child to come home to, and to also briefly meet Eisley (who simply mean-mugged her and then returned to sorting her beans). She asked us prepare for the interview to last about four hours. Upon arriving, though, she complimented us on our writing abilities, stating we'd answered many of her typical questions through our pre-work, and in the end she only ended up spending just over two hours with us.
  I will admit, I was nervous for this visit. Our social worker is kind and calm, and assured us that we did not need to clean the house top-to-bottom--in fact, it should really just reflect how we normally lived. Of course we didn't heed this (would you, if you had guests arriving?) and cleaned and organized. If anything it was a good, cathartic excuse to clean house; but it was the interview portion that created anxiety in me.
  Now, I should pause and clarify that the interview isn't a "determining factor" in proceeding with the adoption. Of course, if we waved giant red flags in her face, she might have concerns, but it's really to help her write a positively-toned overview of why we should parent a child from Haiti. "Sell us", if you will. But, I couldn't help but feel like I was interviewing for a job, and if I "did it wrong", she would just close her notebook right then and there, shake her head and say "thanks, but no thanks" and move along.
  (I know, if you know me, you're probably surprised. Me, who clearly has no qualms in presenting or public speaking, doesn't like interviews? Well, here's my little secret: interviews are my achilles heel.)
  Our social worker met with us together to discuss a few points from our pre-work, met with us separately to discuss our childhood and relationship, and that was it. Painless (aside from my poor attempts at brevity and levity).  

And now, we wait patiently for her to finish the document. She'll share a draft with us, so that we can review and correct any glaring concerns, and then we can officially close out our home study chapter and finish up the last bits of our dossier. 

Some people refer to their adoption process as their "paper pregnancy". It's a cheeky moniker, and I completely relate to it. This process is a labor of love. In some ways, it is not relatable to my pregnancy with Eisley, but it is highly similar in the most important way: at the end of this journey (which will, by all accounts, likely exceed 9.5 months) our daughter awaits.

Resource: https://www.childwelfare.gov/pubPDFs/f_homstu.pdf

Kenscoff, Haiti

Kenscoff is located in a mountainous area of Haiti, about 10 kilometers outside of the capital of Port-au-Prince. The area is home to approximately 52,000 people, and cooler than the typical Caribbean heat (due to the elevation). When looking for information about Kenscoff online, you'll likely find references to the forest and the history of vegetable production, but not much else. It is remote and beautiful. 

In Kenscoff is a small crèche (orphanage) that was built sometime around 2000, and is operated by a well-respected non-profit organization that is based in a nearby town. 

It is here that we will find our child.

Haiti is a country rich in culture and history, and is located in the Caribbean (nearest to Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, and Cuba). The heritage of the country is largely African and European (due to French colonization), and Haitian-Creole is the main language spoken (French-based). There is much to share about the beautiful land and culture of the country, and I'll pepper it through our future posts. 

When we made the decision to adopt through Haiti, we were first asked to complete a brief profile that the agency would present to the organization, representing who we are as a family. This was essentially a "pre-check" to ensure we met Haiti's expectations. We anticipated that we would receive a response in a couple of weeks, but the organization let our agency know just a few days later that we were approved to adopt through them! 

Now, this is not any kind of "official" approval, but is a a bright and shiny star that we are going to hold onto as we traverse the road ahead. Admittedly, it felt validating, and sort of like "They like us! They really like us!"

If there's anything we're learning now, it's that there are many "official" steps, and a handful of "this isn't official, but it's really helpful in the process..." steps. All in all, the journey will likely take around 18-24 months--but it could be shorter or could even be as long as three years. We're going to have to get used to these "could be" moments, and be flexible, as Haiti only joined the Hague Convention in April of 2014, so many processes are still being vetted and streamlined. 

A quick synopsis of the "official" steps ahead:

• Rapidly finishing our homestudy and dossier (the phrase "hurry up and wait" has never been more appropriate)
• Receiving an official referral from IBESR
  (Institut du Bien-Etre Social et Recherches; which translates to the Institute of Social Well-Being and Research--essentially the Haitian Social Services, and Haiti's central adoption authority)
• Travelling to Haiti for a 2-week "socialization" trip, to meet our child and spend time in Kenscoff where they currently reside
• Returning home (sans child) and waiting some more--mostly for court proceedings in Haiti to take place to finalize the availability of our child and work out the VISAs
• Travelling back to Haiti to stay for 1 week and bringing our child home!

Moment of truth:

Publishing this feels a little bit like I'm sharing a secret that we've been holding close to our hearts for some time. At the end of the day, we are incredibly excited (and many other feelings...so many feelings) about this decision, but recognize that a variety of feelings will likely bubble up in close to us, too. 

Creating a transracial family through adoption is not something to do without thought and care. We hope that you will ask questions and learn about this with us. We cannot wait to bring our child home.