Me Again…

I decided to start up this blog again. I missed it. I needed it. There are 40 some days until the deadline of 1 September–not much time really. But things have changed, and I’m feeling good about this adoption again. Good enough to type: soon2b4. Maybe it wasn’t a dream afterall.

We’ll see. 40-something and counting!

 

Happy Friday

My New Blog is…

http://kidcuisine.wordpress.com

I hope you come by to visit. It was nice, albeit turbulent, being part of the  Vietnam Adoption world. I will continue to follow your progress…how could I not?

Adios for now!

The End of the Line…or the Beginning?

I realize now the error I made in choosing a name for my blog…I suppose I just never thought the adoption wouldn’t take place. I mean, we’re not too old, not too young. We’ve been married long enough. We have the finances to support it. I just never thought that I wouldn’t get what I wanted and what a little child half way across the world needed. And yet, here we are.

So, this will probably be my last (or second to last) post on Soon2B4. Just seeing the letters and their meaning makes me sad, so I need to move on. I plan to start a new blog…one about food for kids. You’ll like it, I hope. I’ve learned a lot about food thanks to Little Boy G. He’s a very picky little kid when it comes to food. So, I’ve learned how to make him eat (75% of the time–hey it’s kids we’re talking about here, not science) what I prepare myself.

The blog will pass on what I’ve learned to you.  It will also provide you with an arsenal of recipes they are sure to love (75% of the time) and that you will enjoy making. Why? Because they’re easy recipes, for one. But mostly, because they are the recipes of mothers from around the world! We’re talking the UK, Germany, China, Vietnam, Korea, Latin America, and the US.

I love food. I love cooking. I love watching my kid eat something that I made from scratch–not something that I pulled out of the freezer and nuked. It’s one of the best feelings in the world.

Once the blog is ready to go, I’ll post it here. Thanks for following us along in our adoption. It was fun to dream about it.  And there’s a little spark of hope out there, so I’ll keep the door ajar for miracles.  

Россия? Думаю, что нет…

Russia? I Don’t Think So. Why? Just because. Nothing against Russian children. This is all about me. We started searching for our second child in Vietnam, and we will finish what we started with Vietnam. Come what may. We’re not going to have a Plan B. 

Signs?  Oh, I don’t know anymore. But consider this: I asked my adoption agency to send me a package for Russia early last week. I have yet to receive one. A sign from God? Dunno. Maybe a sign of incompetence. But a sign is a sign. And, when I thought about switching to Kazakhstan back in January, we got the package on it in record time…three days later, in fact.

Am I sad about this? Yes. Definitely sad. But I know it’s the right thing to do. I’ve always loved suspense. I’ve always loved mysteries. Instead of reading about one, I’m living one. That’s cool. Now on to happy thoughts…

 

 

 

To Russia with Love…?

Yikes. Never thought I’d be saying that. Don’t want to go to Russia. BUT, that might be our last chance. I just spoke to my agency rep about plan B (which we didn’t have), and she’s very concerned that we won’t get a referral by 1 September. We’re ninth on the list. Two on the list only want girls. That still puts us in danger of not making the deadline, however, since they’re barely getting one referral a month. So, I’ll need to talk about it with DH, who, if you’re reading this, I tried to call you but you were “climbing a mountain.”

The good news, is that the referral cost isn’t THAT much more than Vietnam’s is. So far so good. Also, we can get an Asian child from Moscow, since women from different regions of Russia go there to work and many find themselves pregnant. Some of these ladies are Asian. Most folks who adopt from Russia A) want a Caucasian child, and B) want a girl. So, the wait should be short.

Here’s the Rub. We must travel three times–you heard me–THREE TIMES to Moscow. What is it with these people??? Why can’t they get the job done in one trip? The first two trips, both parents must make. And since LBG goes everywhere with us, that’s three tickets, three times. Don’t know how much each ticket is, but times three is probably a lot. I think, in this case, I might send DH to Moscow on that third trip. He’d have to agree, of course, but that’s nothing a little Chopin couldn’t ensure (the Vodka, not the composer). 

Another bad thing. We’d need to complete another dossier. Y.U.C.K. My agency says the process is no way near as bad as Vietnam’s though. Honestly, is anything as bad as Vietnam’s dossier? I don’t think so. Plus, what’s the extra cost for that? A few thousand? We’re not made of money, after all.

We could keep our dossier in Vietnam as we are going through the Russia process and in the event, no matter how unlikely, we get a referral before 1 September, we could accept it, stop the Russia process, and go to Vietnam as originally expected. I don’t have any hope of that happening at all, however.

Our choice of names for our son from Vietnam is VERY Russian, so that would work out okay in the end. Kind of fitting, really. Don’t worry, it’s not Boris. 

Maybe God will send me another sign about what to do with this sticky situation. I hereby put it out there: Please, God. Send me a sign. Thank you.

Such a big decision. Such a lot of money. Such a shame that it’s this hard to give a child a home.

Courage is endurance for one moment more…

Title Quote from an Unknown Marine Second Lieutenant in Vietnam

My friend, Marvin, has a brain tumor. It’s got a name that I still have trouble pronouncing. Oligo-dendro-glioma. Sometimes I just call it the “Oligo.” Anyway, as brain tumors go, this one is pretty rare.

Marvin was driving home from work one day, when he had a massive seizure and crashed into a 40 foot ravine.

Seizures are how most patients find out they have an Oligo. Imagine waking up in a hospital. Being told that you’re okay, but that you have this brain tumor. That it was golf-ball sized and located in your frontal lobe. That they removed it, but that it will eventually come back. Aggressively. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But it will come back. 

Marvin didn’t spend too much time feeling sorry for himself about the diagnosis. No time at all really. Maybe that’s because he’s a former Marine. Maybe it’s because he realized there was no time to spare. Either way, he chose, instead, to set out to find a cure for this type of cancer. And he is doing everything possible to accomplish that goal. He’s conducting research. He has his friends conducting research. He’s calling researchers all over the world to get the latest updates and to share information. He’s fund raising. He’s already raised $11,000 in only two months. The money will help since, unlike breast cancer, Oligos don’t get a lot of press because they’re so rare. Rare equals little funding. Little funding equals little research. Little research equals…well, you get the picture.

I don’t want my friend Marvin to die so soon. He’s only in his very early 40s–which is when most people are diagnosed with the Oligos. He has two wonderful kids who need him and want him to stay around for a long time. I remember Marvin talking about his own dad, who died from a heart attack when Marvin was only four years old. Marvin was determined not to let that happen to his kids, so he ate right, exercised, and took medication for high blood pressure. He was not going to die from heart disease. He ran in the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington DC in October 2007. He finished respectfully, too. And then came the diagnosis in December 2007.

The funny thing is (tears streaming down my cheeks), is that Marvin thinks he’s the perfect person to be diagnosed with an Oligo. Why? Because he knows that, with his help and the help of his friends, we can cure this disease forever. And maybe save a life or two along the way. I can’t argue with him. If anyone can solve it, he can. I’ve seen him in action. He’s that good of a problem solver.

Believe it or not, Marvin has probably affected you in a very positive way, some way or another, I just can’t tell you how or why. It’s the nature of the business we are in. My hope is that he WILL find a cure for this disease and it WILL save his life and that of others who have been given the oligo diagnosis. Some of the research being done now is focusing on prohibiting the gene that triggers regrowth of the tumor, once removed. This gene just happens to be associated with other cancer types, such as breast, prostate, colorectal, ovarian, adrenocortical, and leukemia, too. Imagine, just imagine, what would happen if they find a cure for all these cancers. No more simple prolonging of lives, but an actual, honest to goodness cure. Just imagine.

And so, if you would like to donate a dollar or two to this worthwhile cause, I urge you to go to the following link:

 

http://braintumor.org/DonateNow/

 

Go to:  ”Click here” if you wish to make a donation in memory or in honor of someone.

And then fill out the information. Just fill in the “In Honor of” section: Marvin Shoop EE, which will ensure that the funds go to oligodendroglioma. Thank you for reading and thank you with all my heart for donating.

 

 

 

Acceptance…

Update. As of the 24th, we are three months DTV. Woo. Hoo. Boy, have I lost my entusiasm in this pursuit, or what? No wind in my sails. No bounce in my step. The weight of exceptance that this will probably not work out as I planned has taken a toll. Sure, it might happen, but at this point, I just have a hunch that it won’t. We have until 1 September to obtain a referral (a picture of an identified child in Vietnam who needs a home), or we’re done. Finished. This, according to the US Immigration.

Against All Odds. On the bright side, it could have been worse. Although I’m not sure waiting through the summer wondering if we are going to be a family of 4 or not will be fun. What are the odds that we’ll get a referral by then? I honestly don’t know. But I wouldn’t put money on it. Of course, I don’t really gamble, but if I did, I wouldn’t gamble on this one working out. Why? For all sorts of reasons.

The end of August will equal seven months of waiting for a referral for us. Back in the good ol’ days (summer 07), referrals were taking about 6 months. Today, referrals are coming much slower. You do the math.

It’s Going to be Okay. My life will go on, so don’t worry about me. I’m sad for my little boy. I told him that his brother may or may not come home and he looked really sad, then hugged me and said, “It’ll be okay, mama.” Honestly, can one expect more goodness in life than this? I know I can’t. So, if this is the way it will be for us, then I’m good.

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud
And goes down burning into the gulf below,
No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud
At what has happened. Birds, at least must know
It is the change to darkness in the sky.
Murmuring something quiet in her breast,
One bird begins to close a faded eye;
Or overtaken too far from his nest,
Hurrying low above the grove, some waif
Swoops just in time to his remembered tree.
At most he thinks or twitters softly, ‘Safe!
Now let the night be dark for all of me.
Let the night be too dark for me to see
Into the future. Let what will be, be.’

Acceptance, by Robert Frost

Who’s the Boss?

Little Boy G needs a new form of punishment, my husband, Scott said the other day. He was in the process of giving LBG a time-out for doing something he wasn’t supposed to do (I can’t remember what it was) when he came to the sad conclusion.

LBG was sitting in his time-out chair upstairs for four minutes while we were downstairs talking about his fate. Scott was telling me that LBG doesn’t seem to mind the time-outs anymore and that he is having way too much fun during them.

“Why do you say that?” I said.

“Can’t you hear him singing?” Scott said.

(LBG was singing a happy song that went something like this: “You’re not the boss of me, Are you? You’re not the boss of me, Are you?”) “Yes,” I said. “So?”

“Soooo,” Scott said, “He should be contrite or something.”

I don’t know about that. You can’t really dicate that a child will be miserable during his punishment, can you? And if he isn’t? What do you do? Punish him again, only harder? I personally don’t care if he sings while being punished. In fact, I really liked the song he made up. It was catchy. Who knows? Maybe these timeouts will lead him to be a composer one day. I’ll bet Mozart was never unhappy during his time-outs.

I thought a lot about boy #2 this weekend. We decided that if Vietnam doesn’t work out, then we are done. We will not (LBG just came over and hugged me. Too sweet.) pursue another adoption in another country. Okay. I said it. And so. It’s in God’s hands now. And honestly, I’m really okay with that.

Life is good. Enjoy the scenery. Sing.

I’m Not Going to Cry….

A little Vietnam Adoption Program Update: Nothing pithy in this post. Just the cold, hard facts, I’m afraid. Our adoption agency wrote with an update of the program. They congratulated those who had referrals in February and advised others, who do not yet have a referral, to come up with Plan B, in case they hadn’t already done so. Maybe Russia, they said. Russia is a good program that can place Asian kids.

I didn’t cry at the rather insensitive update. I’ve been treated worse. Like, when I first got pregnant a while back, my doctor said, “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Then, when I had my first miscarriage, he said, “I’m not surprised.”

But I didn’t cry today.

I have too many people I know who really deserve tears. My friend with the terminal brain tumor. A fellow blogger with inflammatory breast cancer. 

This setback is just a tear in a salty sea of late. And yet….and yet. My son wants a brother. That’s all. Last night he told me that he had enough toys and didn’t need anymore. All he wanted  was for me to stay in his room with him while he slept. So, I brought him in to my room instead. I’d do anything for him. For some reason, though, providing him with the most natural thing in the world, is beyond my reach. 

But I won’t cry yet. And I won’t give up. I can’t give up. Surely, surely there is a child out there who needs a home. A little boy who needs a big brother. Surely…

 

 

 

Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?

For the past couple of weekends, I pick a day and go to Starbucks, by myself, with my laptop to get some writing done. I’m very nearly finished with working on a manuscript that I began in, oh, 2003 BC (Before Child), I think. So, while I’m gone, Little Boy G says to his dad, “Where’d mama go?” Dad says, “She went to the coffee shop to write on her book.” LBG says, “Why’d she go to the coffee shop?” Dad says, “Because it’s quiet there.” LBG ponders that for a moment, then says, “It’s quiet here.”

 

We still laugh about that one. Quiet? Uh, no. Not so much. Bless his sweet sweet heart, but quiet, he is not.  Anyway, I think I’ll be done with this writing project this month. Hard to believe. It’s amazing what can be done when you just say…This is what I’m going to do and nothing is going to stop me. (Or, more accurately, Dear God! I have to get it done before the next boy comes!).

 

Sometimes I worry that LBG and his brother won’t like each other. I mean, I’m perfectly satisfied with one child, but I do want him to have a sibling and he really wants one too. But, boy, what if they don’t like each other? It can happen as you all know. My sister and I rarely speak. She wants nothing to do with me. I really wish I had a sister in the true form of the word, and not just in that we share the same parents. Unfortunately, that’s the way it is though. I guess we can’t control everything in our children’s lives, but I really hope that it’s different for my sons. I want them to love each other, lean on each other, rely on each other. Etc. You know. Like brothers are supposed to. That’s all I want. Well, that and for that little guy to join our family. Now where the heck is he??