Where We Are

A few people have asked if I would expand a little more on the adoption process.  I haven't said much about it for a while because didn't know if it would bore y'all to tears, but in light of the requests I am more than happy to oblige.

Back in September, we requested information from a bunch of adoption agencies.  After looking at glossy brochures and watching emotionally overwrought heart-tugging promotional DVDs, I asked some message boards about the two agencies we'd narrowed it down to, and based on the advice we got (which confirmed my gut instinct), we chose our agency.  We filled out the agency's initial application, which felt a bit like applying to college again with its essay questions and application fee, although thankfully they did not ask me to identify my personal hero or what I thought I could contribute to the adoption community at large.

Within a week, we passed the first round and received the Application Part II, which sounds like it might be a nice little follow-up bit of business, but in fact it was a serious time suck.  We provided copies of vital documents (birth certificates, passports, marriage license -- incidentally, our marriage license has a typo on it; they misspelled the name of the church where we were married, so for all we know our marriage is null and void) and wrote some more essays and provided financial information, got physicals for medical affidavits, and strong-armed five letters of reference out of our friends. 

As I mentioned before, as a lawyer I'm no stranger to bureaucracy and attention to detail, so we polished Part Deux off in no time, and it was approved by the agency the same day they received it.  (Sadly, when I applied to PhD programs a couple of years ago, I did not encounter the same eager response to my applications; apparently, the Universe believes I will make a better mom than I would have a historian.  Which, all things considered, is probably right, and anyway our kid will now have the advantage of being able to eat.) 

Next, we began our home study.  You have to have a home study prepared by an agency that's licensed in your home state, and since our adoption agency is located elsewhere, we had to find one here in New York.  I'll skip over the boring part of how we started with one home study agency and went to another, except to say that some home study agencies apparently want you to redo every single thing you just did for your principal adoption agency just so the home study agency can have it on their own stationery.

We were not particularly enthused at the prospect of getting MORE medical exams and finding three MORE people to write us letters of rec (since we only have five friends, we would have had to tap into our "work acquaintance" and/or "air-punching bum in front of the Dunkin' Donuts" resources to complete any additional ones), and also I didn't like the tone of the woman I spoke with at the first home study agency (she answered her cell phone with "How did you get this number?"  and effectively accused me of lying when I said she'd given it to me the previous time we'd spoken), so we found a different one that has, uh, fit our needs much better. 

For the home study, we had to fill out about 80,000 pages of questionnaires about ourselves, our backgrounds, our upbringing, our motivation to adopt, our philosophy of discipline -- basically, everything except the frequency of our bathroom visits and whether or not we shave our toes.  In a way, it was kind of fun and sparked some good conversations between me and my husband about our (theoretical, as yet) approaches to parenting stuff -- frankly, a lot of couples would probably benefit from the kind of self-scrutiny you have to go through to adopt.  Anyway, I turned that stack o'paperwork around in one weekend, to the astonishment of the agency -- BRING IT ON, man.  Paperwork?  Pah! 

So then we had to get fingerprinted, which I described before and we will not revisit that trauma now.  We also had to fill out a background check form that required us each to list every place we'd lived since we were 18.  Can YOU remember your dorm's address from sophomore year of college, or the apartment number from your two-month sublet in the summer of 1998?  Yeah.  I know.  Thankfully, I am a pack rat and have letters (ACTUAL LETTERS!) from every year of my life, and I was able to assemble the list without much hassle. 

As we waited for our child abuse clearances and our criminal searches to come back, we scheduled our home visit with a social worker.  She came over on a Saturday after we'd spent the morning cleaning every surface in the apartment with a toothbrush.  The visit was much more pleasant than I expected, and after the interview stuff we showed her around the apartment.  Finding no collections of medieval weaponry or freeze-dried body parts, she left satisfied that she could write a positive report for us. 

Our home study report is now complete, except for one last background check that hasn't come back from the state yet.  Once that's done, we'll file the home study with immigration (USCIS).  And then -- get this -- we get to go for ANOTHER round of fingerprints, so that they can do a federal background check on us.  The brilliant thing -- the sheerly hysterical thing -- is that the state fingerprints and the federal fingerprints both expire.  Yes, they expire.  In case, I don't know, your fingertips are melted off and then you go on a gloveless burglary spree, leaving your tell-tale blank smudges on windowsills and jewelry boxes around the city, and creating a new criminal record that wouldn't have been discovered with your old fingerprints. 

And it gets better!  The two sets of prints expire at different intervals, so theoretically, we could spent the rest of our lives shuffling back and forth between 26 Federal Plaza and One Police Plaza being fingerprinted.  Not to mention getting money orders to pay for the prints every single time.

After we file the home study and get our appointment to be fingerprinted, we will wait.  We'll wait for USCIS to bestow the I-171H on us, so that we can show the Vietnamese government that we have been approved to bring an orphan into the country.  That will probably take a couple of months, since according to the Website, USCIS is now processing orphan pre-approvals that were filed in the Nixon administration.  Well, September -- but still.  I'm hoping we get it by March, which means I am hoping that the USCIS workers are overcome by an unprecedented wave of productivity brought on by, I don't know, sunspots, perhaps.

When we receive the I-171H, we'll gather still more documents to put together our dossier.  I think we have to get super-special copies of our vital documents; we have to have the governor kiss them with a particular shade of lipstick or sign them with a quill made from yeti hair or something, and I'm sure our fingerprints and/or our photocopies of our butts will expire before then and we'll have to have more blood drawn and/or a major limb removed.  And THEN, once our dossier is complete, we will officially be on the waiting list.

Naturally, infant girls (under 12 months) are the most often requested children, so we'll be on a decently long waiting list at our agency and still more months will pass before we receive a referral for a child.

The way Vietnam works in terms of a referral (currently, at least, although I understand this is about to change in some undisclosed way) is that each adoption agency is affiliated with certain orphanages (ours works with three different orphanages, all in the South).  The agency has a facilitator in Vietnam who is in charge of matching the prospective parents with an available child from one of those orphanages.  Once we are on the waiting list, the facilitator will have all our information and when we get to the top of the list, she'll choose a child for us. 

Once we're matched, we will receive a photo of the baby and some medical information about her, and then we will have a chance to decide whether or not to accept the referral.  If we do accept it, our dossier will then go to Vietnam and the child's dossier will also go to Hanoi.  The government will approve the dossiers, and then we will wait for authorization from the government to travel there to pick up our child.  Usually, the wait between referral and travel is several months.  MONTHS, people, during which your baby is growing older and changing and you don't get to hold her or bring her home.  Wah. 

FINALLY, when you get travel approval, you fly to Saigon within a few weeks.  You stay there for a few days and then travel to the province where your child is.  You meet her at the orphanage and spend time with her for a few hours a day for a couple of days.  Then there is a ceremony in front of a red curtain and a bust of Bac Ho (that's Uncle Ho, as all Vietnamese call Ho Chi Minh) called "Giving and Receiving" where the child officially becomes yours.  Which:  WOOOOOOOOOOO! 

After that, you travel to Hanoi to get some more immigration paperwork done -- I believe it's the baby's visa -- and since the office is open for about five minutes on the third Tuesday of every fifth month, some families get hung up there for a while waiting for permission to leave.  Personally, I would be quite happy to be delayed, as I adore Hanoi and would love to travel around the North again (with the baby!  Eee!).  And also I could eat my weight in pho and in banh mi omelets and bun thit nuong and Vietnamese iced coffee, so really, I do not object to much in the way of delays, although by then perhaps we will want to be in our own home with our child.  Perhaps. 

Good GOD.  See, this is why I try not to think about the process too much, because it makes my forehead sweat to realize just how much is involved and how long it may take.  It's possible that we will not have a baby a year from now.  On the other hand, it's possible we'll be racing around buying a crib and diapers in July. 

(Our baby currently has:  two dolls, one Tickle Me Elmo (well, that was mine from, um, college, but I'm generously giving it to EmBe), one board book of "The Night Before Christmas", one copy of "When You Were Born in Vietnam" and one blankie crocheted by her Grammie (also originally meant for me, but once again I am willing to share)). 

This is where a lot of people say it's all in God's hands or a part of His perfect plan, and sure, there's some of that fatalism in my thinking; but most of all I'm trying to go through the process one step at a time and looking forward with wistful anticipation to finding out who our daughter is and what she looks like and how tiny her little toes are, while also savoring the time I have left to sleep late, go for long runs, play quiet games with my husband, and do a lot of nothing.  Because before I know it, there will be AN ACTUAL LIVE BABY IN THE HOUSE, a baby for whom I AM RESPONSIBLE -- ME -- OH MY GOD -- and the wait suddenly won't seem to have been that long after all. 

Comments

[Allison]

Uhhh. What else does your baby have? Some SOCKS, maybe? That look like little ballerina slippers, perhaps?? Maggie and I might be demanding those back when you come see us. :)

[Jamie]

The 13th paragraph made me pee a little in my pants - definitely the first funny blog entry I have read so far in 2007. :)

[Heather B.]

I really, really want to adopt, but the above is what gives me pause. I'm awful with paper work but can remember every address I've had over the past 5 years pretty quickly.

Maybe one day I'll get over that, but for now I shall live vicariously through you.

(just FYI, I wouldn't not adopt just because of paperwork but also because I'm 23 and adopting and/or having children any sort of way kind of freaks me the hell out)

[jonniker]

Ah, paperwork. Honestly, and this may indicate that I should have been a lawyer, I love paperwork. I always have. I like to fill out forms, write essays, etc., and NOTHING is more satisfying to me than a pile of fully-completed paperwork. Adoption may be right up my alley, for reasons unexpected.

You also, *cough*, have more than five friends.

[-R-]

I assume you are home from work today, wallowing in the loss of the Big Blue and drinking heavily. Which makes me ask- no Michigan gear for the little EmBe yet?

Thanks for sharing, by the way! This was really interesting!

[Jen W.]

Thanks for that incredibly detailed account! It sounds like a lot of work that will definitely be worth it. Happy New Year!

[lizgwiz]

That was very interesting. I knew there was a lot involved in adoption (unless you're Madonna or Angelina) but wow, that's some work. Big payoff, though!

[Leah]

ACTUAL LIVE BABY IN THE HOUSE. I can't wait.

[Mauigirl52]

Wow, what a process! I'm sure you'll pass all hurdles with flying colors.

I think all couples should have to submit to the same scrutiny before actually producing a child themselves. It would sure make for better parenting and happier kids!

[Vicki]

O O O O OHHH!! I can't wait! I'm excited sitting on edge of my seat. Me. In Oklahoma, excited about a baby in Vietnam that is going to belong to a lady i've never met in New York. The Internet is so cool.

Okay now listen, I make baby blankets. It's what I do when we have a new baby addition to our family or friends. I'd LOVE to make a few for you. It's not fancy schancy but they are from me to you. I'll try to throw in enough Oklahoma Flair to them so you'll be the ONLY Mom in New York to have one like them.

I read your blog weekly. I don't always get to comment. I want you to know I'm so excited for you and am eager to read more as this life story opens up before you.

[claire]

Wow, that's a lot of work and a lot of waiting and wow. what a process. The Ho Chi Minh bust ceremony? Fascinating.

I'm sure you'll make it through all of the waiting with all of your nerves in tact! So exciting!!

[J.Doe]

Wow! sounds like a lot of work but it will be very worth it in the end. Is adoting within the U.S. any easier?

[jes]

I still maintain: I wish that *some* people who get pregnant had to go through a policy like that before they get pregnant. I think that would solve a lot of problems in our world.

And: heee! I was thinking about your sweet little baby, and how she's waiting for you, too! But maybe crying a little bit more.

[Laura B.]

Holy cow! I knew it must be a complicated and lengthy process, but that is even more complicated and lengthy than I would have guessed. I cannot even think about the fingerprints that expire at different times. It makes my head want to explode.

[PunditMom]

Yup, this was all a big pain in the you know what when we adopted our daughter from China. As they claim with labor, I have forgotten the pain of all that paperwork, scrutiny and hassle (especially the expiring fingerprints and the oh-so jolly people at the INS). Believe it or not, the time will pass quickly. One thing I wish I had done? I wish I had kept a journal for R. so she would know in detail how we were anticipating her arrival. Hang in there!