When your child is a burden...

After three years our Max has racked up enough “serious” diagnosis that we can comfortably say that he will probably need some sort of assistance well into adulthood. Maybe forever. Only time will tell exactly how independent he can be, but we have low expectations. In the three years since he was adopted, our little guy has progressed one year academically. At nearly 11 years old, he reads, speaks and writes like a six year old.

Which leads me to reexamine my personal views on what it means to be tied indefinitely to someone with special needs. I’ve been thinking about this a lot this week. How I used to view families in my situation, and I keep coming back to the same word.

Pity.

I used to pity those families. The families that have little to no hope for one of their own. For how devastated they must have been each time bad news came in. As they watched their bar of expectations sink lower and lower, until they finally stopped expecting things from their child. When they finally realized their loved one would never be much more than a burden to the rest of us.

So if you’ve ever thought that about my situation, stop. Right now. I don’t want your pity.

Here’s why.

In the past when I felt pity for another family with a special child, it was because I personally didn’t recognize that special child as holding the same value as a typical developing child. Like he was a lower class citizen because he would never be on the same playing field as the typical kids. Clearly being burdened with a lower class citizen is a reason to be pitied. Right?

Then that burden became my child. That lower class citizen became a member of my family. And my perception changed. Imagine that.

How could I possibly have held someone else’s special kids to a lower value? How am I ever going to say to myself that one of my children is worth more than another? Because one will excel and the other won’t?

What are you thinking woman? It’s never ok to evaluate another person’s worth for any reason. Ever. Sweet Jesus you’d think I’d know that by now.

Having a special kid isn’t devastating. It’s not a burden. It’s really just sort of normal. It’s different, yes. But you learn. As with anything you fall into a rhythm. A routine.

And our situation is different anyway. While it is true Max is adopted, it should also be remembered that we didn’t adopt a special needs child on purpose. We knew Max before we made our decision to include him in our family. We thought he was a normal kid.

Would our situation have changed if we’d had an accurate list of diagnosis before we signed up? Maybe. But I’m not going to dwell there. Because you don’t get to pick whether your children are healthy or not. The end.

So do I know what the plan is for Max? No. Is my plan to bend over backwards to get him the best education he can get to maybe eek out another IQ point. Not really. I’m sort of ok with the idea of having a son who stays six for the rest of his life. Because in the end it doesn’t really matter.   

If we hadn’t spoken for him he would have been cast out on the street at the age of 18 with all the others. Aside from the fact that he now has parents who'll fight for him; being an American citizen qualifies him for so much more assistance than he ever would have gotten if he’d stayed in Russia. My son is not going to die on the street alone and afraid because there was no one to help him.

So really, it doesn’t matter what the plan is. My kid has already beaten the odds.

A birth mother’s voice.

A few of you know that we recently made contact with the woman who gave birth to our youngest child.

We were so grateful to those of you reached out with love and support as we opened that doorway. When we gave a voice to the woman who betrayed our son.

It is a controversial topic. We know. Each adoptive family needs to decide for themselves whether that woman deserves to be heard or not. In our case she did. We looked at photos of her and her new family online, we decided that her home and her other children looked well loved and cared for. And we decided to give her a chance to right what she had done wrong. To give a voice to her sorrow.

Knowing that she still lives on the other side of the planet, and will never serve as a threat to our boy because the law is on our side. So there.

It’s so easy to have a hallmark fantasy about the other mother; to make up with a heartbreaking daydream that ended in her walking away from her only son for some heroically justifiable reason.  And it’s so easy to think of it as just that. A fantasy.

And how deep down you know it’d be much easier if she was some horrible drug dealer who couldn’t take care of herself, let alone a tiny infant. Because then you justifiably hate her for what she did.

But in our story she wasn’t a drug dealer. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and giving her son away was really her best option.

It was so hard to come face to face with the raw emotion behind her story. To know that she truly did love him as much as we always hoped she did. And to know that she regrets her decision every day, because she shared that reality with you herself.

To know that she went door to door asking old neighbors what became of him, and no one had any answers for her. And that she kept pictures of him as a tiny one all these years, because he is still precious to her.

And how I have the tender joy of sharing her burden, knowing her story, and the beautiful ending it had.  That I can squeeze her boy just a little extra tighter at night, so maybe he can feel the love of both of his mothers in my embrace.

She would have been a good mother to him. If the chips had fallen a little differently. But God had a different plan, one that set into motion before he was born.

And my little heart is a bit ecstatic to find a way to share the truth of God’s love with her. The love of a God who cared enough about her baby to provide for him when she couldn’t.

2 years in...

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As Thanksgiving approaches we pause to remember a pivotal date in our family history. On the 23^rd of this month we will celebrate the second anniversary of our homecoming with little Max. The day we landed in the Detroit airport, weary and exhausted from nearly 24 hours of traveling with a terrified seven year old who didn’t speak English.

The day I finally let my guard down because I knew that the Russian’s could no longer state claim over what was rightfully mine. No long lost relative could spot us in a Russian alleyway and drag Max away from us, into the undergrowth causing him to disappear forever. The day that no Russian official could claim that my E’s looked a little too much like A’s and throw a year’s worth of paperwork into the trash. Condemning my son to a longer sentence of time away from the ones who loved him enough to fight for him.

How on that day, I thought I’d won the battle.  But little did I know that the battle had really just begun. That removing my son from the terrifying environment of a Russian orphanage would do so little to calm the fear that threatened his fragile heart, and that I would have to fight tooth and nail for an entire first year (and then some) as we continued to prove ourselves trustworthy and loyal.

And the big, scary decisions we would have to make about schooling and medication to get this kid to calm down enough for us to figure out what he was so afraid of all the time. Decisions I never thought we would have to make over one of our children. But so grateful that God gave us the courage to do so.

And I still feel like I’m peeling back the layers of this gift that God has dropped into my life. And how his adoption wasn’t nearly as much about my “rescuing” a boy from certain doom, as it was about him teaching me about what’s really happening outside my happy little homeschooling bubble. That pain, heartbreak, and courage aren’t just noble concepts to read about, but raw, life changing emotions that real people struggle with on a daily basis.

And traumatic social histories aren’t things to be cured in a day’s time. Or a month. Or a year.

And so we travel forward, bolstered with another year’s experience, another year stronger. Into what? God can only tell what the future holds for my special boy. I can only wonder what lessons he will teach us without even knowing it.

Maybe this year he’ll be brave enough to look at the pictures and remember where he’s come from. Maybe it’s still too early. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Thanks for following our journey…

Practical Orphan Care Guide

So adoption isn't really on your radar (which does not make you a bad person, trust me) but you do get a little hitch in your gut each time you think about the problem. I put together a little list of practical ways you can love on orphans without taking on a mountain of debt and tangling with a mountain of legal paperwork.
Enjoy!

Pray for them
Pray for them by country or continent. Print out a little world map to keep in your prayer journal or use photos of waiting children / adoptable children. Find out what are the issues children on each continent face, including what countries are currently closed for adoption.
Pray for their hearts that Jesus would reveal Himself to them.
Pray that God would provide for all of their needs in His perfect way.

Speak for them
In your home, in your church, on your social media, to anyone who will listen.
Research the truth and hit that share button.

Connect with them personally 
First understand that what each child really needs is a family. But if you can't be the one who offers them a forever family, then show up to visit them. Hug them, play age appropriate games with them.  Take your commitment a step further by lending your emotional support to orphanage care givers, local church and community leaders.  Empower these adults to connect with the children on a personal level after you go home.

Support adoptive families
I'm sure most of you know at least one family who has adopted or fostered children. Sit down with them to see what their biggest challenges are and figure out how to support them. Offer to pray with them, offer respite care, bring them a meal.

Ease their burdens
While throwing money and trinkets at people isn't usually the best way to solve their problems, sometimes it is the most practical way to get involved. Research their needs and give appropriately. If at all possible, invest in sponsorship programs, scholarships and education efforts.

I found both of these articles rather interesting, so here you go:
10 Ways Every Christian can Care for the Orphan and Waiting Child
How to Help without Hurting (your mission trip visiting orphans)

(nearly) wordless wednesday

He's one less. 

The orphan epidemic can no longer claim my son...

......................................................................

got a great photo for (nearly) wordless Wednesday to to share with us? Post a link so we can all see it!

The cry of the orphan

It's Adoption Awarness month and we've decided to devote an entire week to remembering those sweet little ones who are the victim of other peoples mistakes. Yesterday I shared a bit about what these youngsters can expect as they age out of the system, and what probably would have happened to little Max if we hadn't spoken for him.

Today we have a few resources to share with you. There are a million ways to care for the orphans across our planet, and it all begins with education. So click through some of these links, see what pops out at you, and pray about what you can do to help these youngsters out...

Orphan advocacy websites
FORO
Cry of the Orphan
Orphan Hope International

And here's a cute video that I think you'll like... which will hopefully work... technology and I are tight like that.

The orphan epidemic

Imagine being born into a world where no one wants you. Where you are not only homeless, but without a family as well. Most of can empathize, but will never fully understand this reality, the reality that plagues as many as 140 million children on our planet.

Many many of these kids receive a somewhat decent upbringing in foster care homes or orphanages. Praise God for that. But. Each year 14 million of  these unwanted children age out of the system.These teens generally have no real support network or resources to build their new lives around. Human trafficking, jail, suicide. These are the realities that await for each one of those 140 million citizens of our planet.

As many as 60% of these girls become prostitutes and 70% of the boys become hardened criminals. 

10% – 15% of these children commit suicide in the first two years after being released from the system.. 

This is a reality that I am really not ok with. And I want you to be not ok with it either.

Many of you have met my son Max. He's just the cutest little thing with sparkling blue eyes and adorable tendency drive people a little batty with his incessant chatter. If we had not spoken for him, he would  never have made it to his 20th birthday.

Adoption can be hard. I ain't about to lie about that. It's HARD y'all. Lengthy legal processes can wear down even the most persistent would-be parent. While raising a child with a traumatic social history can bring the best parents to their knees. 

But.

My son is no longer a statistic. He's a boy. The way God wanted it to be all along.

This week we're doing an advocacy push to celebrate National Adoption Awareness month. I have all sorts of resources and information waiting in the wings to toss out at you.

But before you go, hear me when I tell you that adoption is not for everyone, and know that I am not the one who is trying to guilt you into speaking for a child that was never designed to be a part of your family.

 My true plea is for you to hear what I am saying and be not ok with it either. And to act on your not-ok-iness with the appropriate response for you. Be it prayer, donation, visitation or just a little more research. Just follow God's lead.

Guest post: And God laughed at my fundraising.

Hey all!
Today I'm sharing a post at Future Flying Saucers about the financial miracles God orchestrated while we were in the adoption process with Max. A lot of you have heard those stories. But I'm willing to bet that some of you have not. This is for those of you who are looking for a reason to boast about what your God can do... 

Three years ago, I was a mother of 3 slightly, ornery children, with my eye on a six year old Russian boy who was the spitting image of my husband.

This particular little boy came to us through a local hosting program. He stayed with us for two weeks that summer. Predictably, we couldn’t stomach the thought of what would happen to this little guy if we did not make a place for him at our table.

But.

International adoption is not cheap. Especially those Russian adoptions.

So there we were, a family of 5, presented with a little boy who had a $47,000 price tag on his head – nearly a year’s worth of income for our family – and no way to pay for his ticket home.

So we counted all our pennies, squinted at our financial resources and scratched our heads as we tried to figure out how to pay for this kid.

The best we could figure was we needed to raise at least $9,000 to cover the gap between what he would cost and the amount we could scrounge together in a year’s time.

So we took the blind leap. We strategized our fundraising plan. We put together an army of people who wanted to help us with our crazy task. We managed to raise about $7,000 through our various fundraising endeavors. But halfway through our campaign our church decided to make a “no fundraising policy”, effectively sinking nearly all of my event plans.

Which meant no more fund raising money. And we were still $2,000 short. With no real way to get it.

But we clung to the promise that it was all a part of the plan. That God was going to provide, and He didn’t need my plans to do it.

So out of ideas and nearly out of money we did what anyone would do. Cried out to God and twiddled our thumbs while we waited for Him to show up.

Oh this is the best part. You know God's going to show up, right? But what he did next is going to give you goosebumps. 

Even if you already know, go read it again. Remember what my God can do. You'll get goosebumps all over again.  I promise. The rest of the story is here.

Adoption blogger carnival...

Today we have an exciting treat for you, I've opted to host an adoption blog carnival with some of my fabulous adoptive blogger Mama pals. You may recognize a few of them as old friends who've shared their wisdom with you before.

Enjoy!

International adoption usually includes both a new family and a big move to a new country in one fell swoop.  In Kim Smith from Asia Ramblin's case those events were separated by a year, and gave us a heartbreaking look into the fear of abandonment that she still battles.

Becky Wenrich shares a few thoughts with us about with whether or not open adoption ever gets easier in her post on Wenrich Family Adoption: Becoming a Family of 4.

The authors at Ordinary time share with us a few words that I totally get about how clutter in our homes affects our children from hard places.

And...

Suzanne Meledeo from Surpassing Greatness helps us consider how some children feel being ripped from all they have ever known for a whole new life. More adventures with special needs adoptions

Raising a beggar, part 2

We’ve talked before about my Russian born son and his behavioral quirks that come from living on the streets and in an orphanage for his first seven years. We know he is intimately acquainted with the desperation that drives individuals to seek handouts from both strangers and friends.


While mostly a ghost of his past, the fears that cause these beggar tendencies still surface from time to time like I talked about here. We’ve learned a few coping mechanisms to help him feel more secure and not feel the need to ask strangers for candy or money.

So he’s mostly ok with not being a beggar anymore.

But then there’s the reality that other people in our world still face desperate circumstances that cause them to do whatever it takes to survive.

Like that pan handler on the busy street corner we drive past on a regular basis. The one I never stop to give a handout to.

The other afternoon little Max and I were out cruising around town in our little white minivan when we pulled up to that intersection. The one our resident beggar hangs out on, and Max asked me why he was there and what the words on his sign meant.

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Was this a time to learn the meaning behind responsible compassion? For him to hear the truth that this man didn’t need my money as much as he needed a job that helped him feel like he was contributing to the good of mankind?

As much as I wanted to explain the truth that I need to careful about who I financially assist I don’t want him to think that there are some people who aren’t worth helping. I also want to fully respect his social history and the fact that he can relate to that man’s desperation. I didn't want him to be ashamed of his past behavior, when we know he was simply trying to survive. That it wasn’t his fault his first set of caregivers didn’t provide for his basic needs.

And as I'm digging through my thoughts on how to approach this "teachable moment" for my son the reality hits me that perhaps God arranged this exchange to be a teachable moment for me. What if God gave my son the social history He did because He wants Max to understand the desperation of others, with resources to do something about it. That He wants my Max to be generous to a fault so that others don’t have to face the desperation that he’s known. And in doing so push my boundaries of acceptable levels of charity.

Sweet Jesus thank you for bringing a representative of the world’s desperation into my house. I want to give with reckless abandon in my best effort to curb other people’s acts of desperation. Show me the best way to use my resources. Amen.

Guest post - the waiting child

Thinking about Adoption? Have you considered the Waiting Child?

When my husband and I first started our adoption process, these children were referred to as “Special Needs” which frankly is a little scary. We knew we were called to adopt but our dreams centered on a perfect small bouncing bundle of joy. How wrong and selfish we were! We were looking at it through the eyes of the world, not the eyes of our Heavenly Father.

After several months of paperwork and blocks in the road, our caseworker mentioned these children as a possibility to us, we looked at each, initially with fear and trepidation, and said, "We don't think so", but God had other plans. He began to work in our hearts and brought people into our lives who had adopted children from China on the waiting child list and showed us that He had a completely different plan, one far more wonderful than anything we could have imagined with our finite minds. He showed us that we didn't need be scared of this special list of children but rather to see them as beautiful children created by their Creator, perfect in His eyes, and waiting for us to adopt them!

God gently whispered into our hearts. “I love you regardless of your imperfections. I loved you so much that I sent my one and only flawless Son to die for your sins. If you were already perfect, you wouldn’t need me. All My children are beautiful to me.”

 Anthony (limb/finger deformities) &
Grace (amniotic banding syndrome, psoriasis, mild club foot) 

So What if instead we called them "Waiting Children"? Doesn't sound as intimidating, right, and it is the truth as well! Furthermore, what if we thought of "Special Needs" kids as "special", amazing children in "need" of or "waiting" for a forever family? What if God had said, "Oh, I don't want to save people with problems, only perfect people"? None of us are worthy of Him! We are all special cases in comparison to our great God. 

The truth of the matter is that many children on this list in China have things that can be corrected in the United States such as cleft lip/palate or limb deformities. I am not saying that this is an easy path or one that should be tread lightly, and of course, there are children on these lists with even more severe issues. But does God always call us to the easiest path? Pray about God's plan for your adoption and seek His will alone. Don't focus on the fact that you want a "healthy" child but rather on the child God has for you. When you know that you are following Him and His will for your life, step out in faith, trusting in His perfect plan. Yes, there will rapids along the way, but He has promised to carry you through those times of trial and difficulty that are inevitable. He will be faithful. WE CAN TRUST HIM!! "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understand.  In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight." (Prov. 3:5-6)

God has worked in amazing ways in our lives through our children, and we are excited to see what else He has in store for us and our children in the future.

____________________________________

Suzanne, Grace, Anthony & Adam Meledeo

After struggling with infertility for five years, God led Suzanne and her husband, Adam, to His Plan A for their lives, adoption! Their daughter, Grace Lihua, came into their lives on May 8, 2011 (Mother’s Day) from Fuzhou City, Fujian Province, China, and their son, Anthony Jianyou, joined their family on January 14, 2013 from Shanghai.  After a career in Politics, Suzanne is thankful for God’s provision in their lives that now allows her to work part time as a Pilates Instructor while home schooling their children. You can follow their adoption journey and life on their blog, Surpassing Greatness.

Oh, hey and we have a giveaway this week! 90 Devotions for Kids, written by the creators of Adventures in Odyssey. Leave me a comment here (or via my facebook page if the comment thing doesn't work - it's persnickety sometimes!) I want to pick you!

Struck blind in a parking lot, a true adoption story

As with most adoption tales, ours is filled with countless beautiful pictures of God’s intervention in our lives as He successfully moved Heaven and earth to put our youngest son in our home where he rightfully belonged.

This is the tale of the precise moment I received my call to adopt. Some of you may have already heard the story of the precise moment I knew Max was my child. But I'll go out on a limb and say most of you haven't.

So here's my story of being struck dumb in the church parking lot with the reality that my fourth child was standing right next to me and I didn't even know it. Enjoy.

My husband and I had always planned to adopt someday, and even in those early days when adoption was mostly just a theory, Russia was very much on our radar for some reason. Back when adoption was more of a theory than a reality for our family we figured it best to set those dreams aside until our biological kids were older. Maybe when the house was paid off. When we would have time and energy to breathe, to invest fully in a child who might need a bit more from his parents than these two distracted Jesus-loving sinners might have.

But you know what happens when you make a plan right?

Jesus laughs in your face. Loudly.  

As with most of my good stories, you'll have to read the rest of it on someone else's blog. A great big thank you to Suzanne of Surpassing Greatness for sharing one of our stories.    

Oh, and did you hear that we have yet another giveaway this week? Check it out!

A picture is worth a thousand slova

A friend recently pointed me toward a European social media website designed to help people from across the world reconnect, people who may have their personal information written in another language. Which makes inquiries rather difficult. Trust me on that one.


As soon as this site came across my radar, I couldn’t help myself. I gleefully dug out my paperwork on Max’s biological relatives, and wouldn’t you know we were able to find his mom and older sister. Neither profile was able to tell us much information that we didn’t already have, but we were able to find multiple pictures of his mom and both sisters (who are still in Mom’s custody).

And a flood of emotions crash over me as I study these new faces, trying desperately to pick out the similarities between their features and Max’s. In this photo I see she has the same broad cheek bones as my son, while I pick out an expression I’ve totally seen my son make in that photo.

There’s even a very sweet family photo taken around the campfire, his mom and sisters look so healthy and happy together. The picture of a perfect family. I have to stop myself from imagining my son there in the frame, with a stick in his hand gleefully poking that campfire with his first mom and siblings.

Now I know some people get their panties in a bunch when they think about adoptive families searching / finding / communicating with their child’s biological family. And to that I say, to each his own. I can see why it would be scary to share personal information with complete strangers. So I respect the sentiment that causes some people to hold back.

But I’m not one of those people.

I do not feel threatened by the other mom. She might have been his first love, but I’m the one he calls for in the night. I’m the one who will move heaven and earth to get him what he needs. I’m the one who will never give up on him, or stand by when someone else tries to take him away from me. Heavens no.

I am his mom now, but I do respect the fact that she played a huge role in making him who he is. Despite the mistakes this woman made in her past, I know that in her heart, little Max is still her son. There’s no denying he has her smile. He remembers her. He asks about her. And a big part of me thinks that he does want a relationship with her. He wants to know that she still loves him.

And I’m ok with that.

He likely wants to know a bit about her, and more likely she wants to know a bit about him too. I don’t know what made her give up her second born child. But I know she probably had a good reason. Don’t I at least owe her the peace of mind that comes with knowing that her only son is happy and healthy with a new family? That we know she did what she did because she loved him? Shouldn’t she know that we do tell him how much she loves him?

If the roles were reversed I would want her to tell me those things. To give me that peace.

So as we proceed through this door we do so with caution. Caution and courage. Caution in knowing she hurt him profoundly once, and courage to believe she doesn’t want to do that again.

Donning the super mom cape

The other day I was sitting right here, click clackin away on the computer when the lovely and talented Ms. Donna calls from Max's school.

Super Awesome Ms. Donna: Hello, are you aware that there was no lunch packed in Max's backpack today?

Crickets.

Me: Ohhhhhhhhhhh crap.

Now, as a little side note, you may or may not know that my youngest baby has food related anxiety. Which probably comes from not having a reliable food source before his seventh birthday. Go figure.

Ms Donna chuckles in her knowing way before offering a handful of perfectly do-able solutions that would save me the trip across town to right the situation. Solutions that would work just fine for my other children, and probably most of the children in the center, who wouldn't blink an eye when a happy meal mysteriously appeared in place of a cheerful red thermal lunch bag.

But not my baby.

In the back of my little boy's mind. Underneath the daydreams about fast cars and Lego towers there is always the question who will take care of me when something tragic happens. Who will come to my rescue when there is no lunch in my back pack.

And all my fellow adoptive Mamas know the answer can not be my teacher will come to the rescue. No, sweet Jesus. We love you Ms. Donna, but I'm gonna hafta pull rank on this one. My baby needs me to put on my super-mama cape, and swoop in to save the day.

As I reflect on the situation, I decide to be grateful. Grateful for the momentary slip up that might have caused a moment of panic in my son's heart, but ultimately gave me a chance to be his hero. Grateful for the opportunity it offered me to answer that question that's always simmering in his subconscious.

My Mama will always take care of me.

Hey, did you hear about the super awesome giveaway we have going on this week? Want to enter, and give it to me for my birthday, cause I really wish I could win this one.

When your mom isn't really your mom...

As I sit down to think about my Mother’s day celebration I think about all the things I love about being a mom. Meeting my sweet babies for the first time, holding them as they cry (no matter how big they are), watching them become the children of God they were created to be. I love this job. I heartily embrace the task of transforming these unformed minds and guiding them with love and instruction.


But as I sit and write I can hear my youngest son playing happily (for once!) with his older siblings. I think about the woman who gave birth to him who loved him enough to let him go. The dreams she must have had for him, and the pain she must still feel when she thinks about how she let her only son slip away from her.

Max doesn’t particularly want to talk about his former life before he joined us. So I don’t know much about the woman he once called Mama. He was probably three the last time he saw his Russian mother so I can only imagine the vague memories he has floating below the surface. Her face. Her voice. The way she smelled after a shower.

He asks about her from time to time, and I always share the tiny bit of information we have about her. Mostly legal information, how old she was, where she called home. When I finish retelling the details I know about his first mother I always remind him how much she loved him, and how proud she would be if she could see him now.

So on this Mother’s day, my second as a mother of four; I try to balance my joy and sorrow. While I am beyond grateful for the son that I share with another mama, and the unique relationship I have to her. My heart also aches because can’t kiss her baby, my baby, goodnight. How I would love to give her one more chance to kiss her baby.

And as I think about her pain, my heart also aches for the countless other Mamas across our planet who have no babies to hold. And for the babies that have no Mama to hold them.

And my heart is swift to find anger for the governments who would prefer to keep those babies away from new Mamas who want nothing more than to hold them and grow them into the children of God they were created to be.

Stuck, the movie: because every child deserves a family.

I avoided this movie for a long time. I knew it would cause me to tiptoe through some raw emotional terrain that was easier to ignore. Much easier to stay in my own little world of hostas and spelling tests than it is to think about flawed international legistlation.

But I knew for the sake of my fellow adoptive Mamas I couldn’t turn a blind eye forever. It was my duty to link arms with them and say this is not ok with me, and it shouldn’t be ok with you either.

If you are unfamiliar with the film Stuck it documents the real stories of families bogged down by the bureaucratic crap associated with international adoption. Families who are waiting years while children slide further and further into despair and hopelessness.

Our own process with Max took about 18 months and cost over $45,000. As far as our story is concerned, the waiting was cut short considerably by the fact that we came into the process requesting a specific child, so we didn’t have to go through the selection period. But as far as the finances… Eek. No, there was not a discount for an older child with a traumatic social history. The kind of child that no one else will ever want. He was just as expensive as an adorable, gurgling infant. Nice, right?

Anyway, back to the movie. It’s not so much on the “hey let’s throw out all the safety measures and hand these children away to whoever wants them,” as much as it is “why did it take 18 months for this piece of paper to move from this office down the hall to that office”

Why do 90% of families who pursue international adoption walk away empty handed? Why are these adoptions down 60% in less than 10 years? Why does this need to be so darned complicated?

Good stinking question.

If politicians want to bicker about who is more official than whom, fine. Go ahead. But don’t use homeless children as your pawns. They are lives worth fighting for, not political playing cards.

Are you mad yet? I am. Does it show?

Max’s best friend Igor is still in Russia. After a year and a half, Max still wrestles with grief over the loss of his buddy. Sadly Igor’s new mommy lives about an hour and a half from me. She has his room all decked out with Sponge Bob accessories. Sadly these boys will never have a sleepover in that room because according to Russian legislation it is now ILLEGAL.

What?

This is what I’m saying.

So if you’re still with me, you’re probably just as pissed off as I am. Good. I hope you are. Let me just say on behalf of adopting families across the world, thank you for caring. If you would like to invest a little more time into this calamity you can go sign this petition. If this topic really gets under your skin like it does mine, you can invest a bit more energy here.

 Igor and all the other stuck children on this planet want me to say thank you on their behalf.