Careful What You Wish For.

Remember when I said I needed a distraction to get me through the 16 days until our next court date? Well, I got it. Big time.

I received a video of Tariku from another family traveling to the orphanage to pick up their baby. There were actually three videos of our babe, totaling all of 90 seconds. It was 90 seconds too many. The videos were terrifying. In retrospect, that may be a little melodramatic. But, at the time, they really scared the crap out of me. In the videos, Tariku is practically glued to the floor. His arms barely move out of a fixed position (he rubs his eyes once) and his legs are almost completely motionless (he kicks his left leg ONCE). The only noticeable movement was the repetitive shaking back and forth ("rolling") of his head -- he did this on three separate occasions. It was a deliberate movement - not seizure like.

I went stone cold. I couldn't process what I was seeing. I just kept watching the videos over and over and over. Hoping to see something different. It just looked worse. and worse. and worse. Words, diagnoses, implications were racing through my mind. I was definitely on the verge of all-out panic. Thankfully, I have a very calm, very rational husband. Steve and I went back through every photograph we've seen of Tariku, looking for reassurance that he was "okay." I saw him holding a rattle. Putting his fingers in his mouth. Kicking his legs in the air. Holding a bottle. Reaching for another babe. Smiling. Giggling. Making eye contact. He CAN move his arms. He CAN move his legs. He smiles. He giggles.

The concerns elicited by Tariku's head "rolling" can not be assuaged by looking at still photos. But, I can research with the best of them. So, to the internet I went. Head rolling is apparently a fairly common, benign way for infants to soothe/stimulate themselves. Considering the circumstances of Tariku's first five months of life, I would not be shocked if he had to "head-roll" to either soothe or stimulate. This should have been the end of the story - but I could not get the damn videos out of my mind.

I contacted our agency, AAI, and they were AMAZING. They got in touch with the doctor at the orphanage, and less than 24 hours later, I received his report of Tariku's developmental evaluation. The doctor claims that he is right on track. He rolls over. Holds his head up while on his belly. Transfers objects from hand to hand. Again, this should have been the end of the story. But, I can beat a dead horse better than anyone I've ever met. Comes with being a lawyer. So, I forwarded the videos to the local physician who has been advising us since we received Tariku's referral. She, too, was concerned and asked that a neurological examination be performed, in addition to the developmental evaluation that was just completed. Once again, our agency was on point and we received the doctor's neurological assessment in less than 24 hours. No abnormalities were noted. End of story? Almost. Our agency was willing to request that the orphanage director spend some time with Tariku to see if his behavior triggered any of her alarms. Less than an hour after this request was made, I received an email from the orphanage director. Coincidentally, she had spent time with Tariku yesterday when she gave him our Welcome Bag. She said that he was interactive and responsive, sat well in the Bumbo chair, and reached for the toys she placed in front of him. Her alarms were not going off.

I don't know what to make of the videos. 90 seconds of one day. Perhaps, Tariku fell asleep thirty seconds after they stopped recording, and that is why he was so lethargic. Perhaps, he spent his first three months alone in a room stimulating/ soothing himself by rolling his head. I don't know. I do know that on two consecutive days, I specifically asked the doctor at the orphanage to look for a problem I had flagged. If he was looking for a problem, and there was a BIG problem, I am hoping and praying that he would have noticed it. Or, that the orphanage director would have. I am not there. They are my surrogates - my eyes on the ground. I have to put stock in what they are telling me.

So, I am moving on. Really. He is our son. You don't get to pick your children. Only 8 days until our next court date! Keep your fingers crossed...

A Leap of Faith

After sulking through the better part of Wednesday and Thursday, I received a consoling email from a friend. This particular email really struck a chord with me. It was laugh-out-loud funny, sympathetic, rational and supportive. It was exactly the kind of email I would do my best to write, if ever a friend were in a similar situation. Here is one segment of the email:

"You pay attention and you think of all the angles. And you practice kung-fu and sharpen your blades for battle. You are trained to see where things can go wrong and prepare to fight against them. But we both know that no matter how prepared you are or how sharp your blades are, you aren't going to be the one who fights this fight. That is squarely in the hands of the Ethiopian court system, AAI's legal representative, MOWA, and AAI. "

I find myself in the very unfamiliar, very uncomfortable position of having absolutely no control of the situation. I can continue to march along in my parade of horribles, but it isn't going to make Tariku's case pass court. I need to quiet my mind and put my tendency to over-analyze to rest. I may have stopped practicing law six years ago, but I have not stopped thinking like an attorney. And, in this instance, it isn't helping me. THIS ISN'T MY CASE! I will not be the one standing before the judge. I must put my faith in my stand-in king fu fighters. I have to trust that they will do their jobs to the best of their ability.

In closing, I refer again to my friend's email:

"Ever hear the best part of being a pessimist?
Half the time you get to be right. Half the time you're pleasantly surprised."

Please don't let me be right.

Disappointing Court News

We did not pass court today. I was getting my hair cut, which happens once every six months, when I received the email. I cried big, fat, ugly tears right there in the stylist's chair. In the poshest salon in town.

Despite being tremendously disappointed (and having to find a new hair salon), I am choosing to remain focused on the positive:

1) I like my hair-cut!
2) Our next court date is on February 12th - only 16 days away.
3) It appears the reason we did not pass is easily remedied.
4) We learned something new about Addis Tariku's family.
5) It is still likely we can travel in the beginning of April.
6) In our hearts, Addis Tariku is already our son.

Butterflies

Tomorrow is our court date. I have butterflies in my stomach. I do not know how I am going to get through the day not knowing whether we passed. If we pass, Tariku is legally our son and we can travel to Ethiopia to bring him home in late March/early April. If we do not pass, we wait days, weeks, months for another court date. It is eight hours later in Ethiopia. That means that by the time I take my kids to school in the morning, our case will have been heard and decided. I think I am going to be a basket case until our agency's office opens at 9am Pacific Time -- that is NOON here! Do I call at noon? Wait until 3:00? 4:00? Do I not call at all, and just wait patiently for someone to contact me? By email or by phone? At home or on my cell? I think tomorrow would be a great day to swim at the gym. Stay under water and away from my cell phone and computer for as long as possible. Not a chance. I'd drown. I'd forget to breathe or something fundamental like that. Way too distracted. Am I being a little too melodramatic? I don't think so. Hubby does. Men.

Remedial English

I am really struggling with the name of our little man in Ethiopia. After I chastised anyone who dared to ask how to pronounce Tariku, I realized that I was the one pronouncing it incorrectly. A lingering New York accent, combined with a learned Midwestern twang, had me pronouncing Tariku like this: Tair-ih-koo. From Ethiopian friends, I learned that the correct pronunciation is Tarr-ee-koo ... and be sure to roll the rr! This pronunciation was confirmed by a video I received of the nannies at the orphanage cooing to Tarr-ee-koo. I am certain that if they had heard the way I'd been pronouncing Tariku, they wouldn't let me bring him home!

I recall chuckling self-righteously when I initially read the passage in There Is No Me Without You when an adoptive father is trying in vain to explain to his elderly mother the correct pronunciation of Ababu. "Can you pronounce banana. It's like that. Where's the problem?"

Well, the problem is that my brain and mouth are not on the same wave length. Despite my best efforts, NEVER does his name come out correctly. I literally have to pause for 10 seconds before speaking it, simply to have a chance at coming close. All this from the girl who took offense to anyone who gave the slightest arch of the eyebrows upon hearing his name. I cringe when I think I went so far as to tell people that if they could say "Caribou" or "Tamiflu," they could correctly pronounce Tariku.

Sincere apologies.

All this to say that we are leaning towards "Addis Tariku." I do not necessarily say "Addis" correctly, either -- I say Ahh-diss and I believe the correct pronunciation is Ahh-deese. Addis, at least, rolls off my tongue easier. A lot easier.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, "Addis" means "New." "New" is an adjective. An adjective modifies a noun. Standing alone, it is incomplete. New. New what? It needs its noun -- its foundation-- to be complete. Tariku. "His Story." His mother. His father. His country. His culture. His language. "Addis Tariku." "His New Story."

The LAMP for Haiti

There is a severe food shortage in Haiti. Prices have risen 70% since January 2009 while supplies have shrunk. This, in a nation where the average income is less than $1 per day, means that many parents are faced with not being able to provide even one meal a day for their children. To keep children from crying out in hunger pain, parents feed them cookies made of dirt to trick their tummies into feeling full. Can you even imagine? This was the case BEFORE Wednesday's catastrophic earthquake rattled Haiti to the core. What now? It is beyond comprehension.

Today, more than ever, I am honored to be on the Board of an organization called The LAMP for Haiti. (www.lampforhaiti.org) Working together with the people of Haiti, The LAMP for Haiti advocates for the respect and protection of basic human rights in the areas of greatest misery and poverty in Cite Soleil, Port-au-Prince. In pursuit of this mission, the LAMP provides basic health care, investigates allegations of human rights abuses, and provides educational and humanitarian aid. The LAMP is responding to Wednesday's tragedy in Port au Prince by rushing emergency supplies to children and families most in need. Several of my LAMP colleagues will be traveling to Haiti on Sunday, January 17th. Your help is urgently needed. Your generous gift today will help provide emergency food and family survival kits. In addition to immediate life-saving aid, your gift will also provide for the long-term needs of children and families, rebuilding our clinic, if necessary, and restoring hope as we always do.

Thank you for your support through this crisis and everyday as we walk along with the poor in Haiti.

Rachael
www.lampforhaiti.org

The Best Laid Plans

I had big plans for this week. I had made a list and was rearing to go. You know what they say about the best laid plans? Well, that doesn't even begin to sum it up.

1) Get Sylvie to resume napping. FAILED. MISERABLY. Grade: A BIG FAT F

2) Double up Ellie and Sylvie in Sylvie's current bedroom. FAILED. NOT EVEN CLOSE. Grade: F
Ellie's armoire would not fit through Sylvie's doorway. No way. No how. So, the armoire would have to remain in Ellie's room, which we were going to redo for Addis Tariku. But, the crib would not fit in Ellie's room if the armoire remained. Must scramble and come up with another plan. The New Plan: Double up Ellie and Sylvie in Ellie's current room. The armoire is already in there, and the closet has been customized. The matching antique twin beds would have to go in front of the windows -- not ideal, but tolerable. Keep Sylvie's room as a nursery/guest room for Addis Tariku.

3) Execute "The New Plan." Grade: C-
The carpet in Sylvie's current room -- Addis's future room -- is pink and green. We'll have to get new carpet. The window treatments are pink striped. We'll have to get new window treatments. Did I mention that we just redecorated this room two years ago when Sylvie was born -- so everything is practically brand new!?

Getting Ellie's room ready for Ellie and Sylvie almost put me over the edge. The beautiful antique caned twin beds that were supposed to be "so easy to assemble" - NOPE! The rails did not align and the hardware had been swapped out. The beds were "unassemblable" - is that even a word? The plywood I had bought at Home Depot was too thin and the mattresses were not wide enough. Now what? Bunk beds? Nope, that wouldn't work because no matter how we positioned bunk beds, the chandelier would be hanging over the top bunk. I also worried about Sylvie climbing up the ladder.

So, we have taken the twin beds back to the shop where they were purchased, and their skilled woodworker has promised to make them functional. Until then, Ellie is sleeping on a mattress on the floor in the middle of her room and Sylvie is still in the guest bed in her room.

4) Take Sylvie to the pediatrician for her two-year-old check-up. Grade: Sylvie: A; Pediatrician's Office: F
Sylvie was great. Patient. Cooperative. Talkative. Engaged. She did better than I could have hoped. On the other hand, we had another issue with the pediatrician's office. Earlier this year, when I picked up Benj's immunization record for school, I noticed that he had not received any vaccinations for Hep B. I had been very on top of this particular vaccination because I wanted to ensure that Sylvie was fully Hep B vaccinated before Addis Tariku came home. This vaccination is typically completed by the time a child is two -- Benj is 6! Oops. The doc explained that it must have been "overlooked." But, it wasn't a "big deal," and he could be Hep B vaccinated later that week. Okay. I got over it. Well, at Sylvie's appointment this week, the doc said that Sylvie was due for her seasonal flu vaccine. I responded that Sylvie had already had her seasonal flu vaccine three weeks earlier. The doc said that she had received the H1N1 vaccine at that time - not seasonal flu. That was not correct. Sylvie had received H1N1 at the Health Dept. in October, and SEASONAL FLU at this pediatrician's office on December 18th! She said that her records did not indicate such. Excuse me?!?!?!?!?! So, I have absolutely no idea whether they gave Sylvie the vaccination for seasonal flu or H1N1 on December 18th. Therefore, my poor kiddo may not have any protection against seasonal flu whatsoever. Time to switch practices?

5) Get new pics of Addis Tariku. Grade A-
Addis Tariku looks great --albeit dressed in pink! If not for the bubble-gum pink, floral jumper he was sporting in several of the pics, he would have gotten an A+! We even received two pics of him smiling, and several of a nanny feeding him a bottle.

6) Get assigned a court date. Grade: ?
No news.

7) Exercise. Grade: F
See #1 above.