Thanks to everyone who has been praying for us through this process! As I've mentioned before, it is amazing how much we have learned about ourselves, and how much we've gained from this experience.
In a poast posting, I mentioned a young couple in Wisconsin who were considering adoption. They have decided to parent that baby (due in August). Obviously, there is a little disappointment, but this is truly the ideal situation for that child. To be raised by parents who love him/her and who have a strong support system is a perfect scenario. We would ask that you continue to pray for that family, as they will experience a great transition in mid-August.
We will officially submit our match letter to CFCA this week (probably Wednesday). Sharon has informed us that the letter will go online by Thursday at the latest. Many of you have already seen it through this blog, but I'll still post the link once it goes live. At that point, we wait. The Pregnancy Counselors will present our letter to any birth mother who matches our interests.
My goal now, other than to have a high level of patience, is to begin submitting applications for adoption grants. Quite a few organizations offer funding for adoptive parents, so I will be in contact with them to see if we qualify. If nothing else, it will give me something to do so that I don't get to antsy.
We'll keep everyone posted on how things are going. Thanks again for the thoughts and prayers!
Monday, June 21, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Welcome to Holland
At this point in our adoption journey, we don't have a lot to report. We're waiting for the state to officially certify us, and we're waiting to hear back about a young couple in Wisconsin. In the meantime, I thought I would share a story that was given to us during our adoption class. As you read it, insert "adopted child" where it says "child with a disability." It fits well.
Welcome to Holland
by Emily Perl Kingsley
"I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not share that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this:
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michaelangelo David. The gondolas of Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"HOLLAND?!!" you say, "What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy. I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole group of people you never would have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there a while and you catch your breath, you look around and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills. Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they're having. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes. That's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned on."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant one.
But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland."
Welcome to Holland
by Emily Perl Kingsley
"I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not share that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this:
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michaelangelo David. The gondolas of Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"HOLLAND?!!" you say, "What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy. I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole group of people you never would have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there a while and you catch your breath, you look around and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills. Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they're having. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes. That's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned on."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant one.
But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland."
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