Adoption Journey, Part 2

If you haven't read Part 1, you can find that here.

The end of 2017 brought more hard lessons.  As Kyle’s physical stamina began a sharp decline in the fall, we realized that we had to slow our family’s pace.  Kyle took a medical leave of absence. We learned that we had to find ways to be together more, in spite of our busy jobs and demanding schedules.  We learned that we are not invincible and we needed to make time for rest. We learned to trust our church community and pastor more. We learned to accept help.  To stop pretending that life is always easy. To say out loud when things are hard.

In November 2017 our agency told us they’d like to talk.  Deep down we knew they were going to ask us to switch countries.  All we could do was pray that God be clear if our direction was to change.

“There is a ten month old girl in the Republic of Georgia.  Her heritage is Azeri.”

I’ll never forget that moment.  Our eyes met. We both nodded. A weight was suddenly removed from our shoulders and we were released to pursue adoption in another country.

“Yes.”  Kyle answered.

“We can’t promise this exact child will be available.”

“Yes, we’ll switch to Georgia.”

And so, five and a half years into our adoption journey, we started over completely.  We had to gather every piece of paperwork all over again to have translated into a different language and submitted to a different government.  I refused to hope that the child mentioned would be ours. But my traitorous heart continually whispered…”but she IS Azeri…” On December 22nd our world stopped moving.  Kyle and Matthew were supposed to be heading out the door to catch a movie...and I received an email. Her name. Her medical needs. Her face. A video. The flurry of paperwork continued.  More pictures and videos, more medical information arrived in February. In March we learned she had been moved to foster care.

Daily I battled the mindset that nothing good could come our way, that this was bound to end in disaster.  Daily I reminded myself that God is good. That he works all things together for the good of those called according to his purpose.  The whisper of my heart, “I trust you with my children. I trust you, I trust you, I trust you.”

Miraculously, things kept moving along.  Paperwork was completed and submitted in record time.  The referral issued in June. Time slowed to a crawl as we anticipated “the call” that would give us our court date.  Lists were made, clothing gathered, a baby shower hosted, a room decorated. Still no call. Before bed each night I whined “Kyle! I’m ready to gooooo!”   Each day without a call was an excruciating reminder that I am not in control. Not in control. Not in control. My children belong to the Lord! HE alone knows the number of their days and HE alone knew the day we would meet our daughter, hold her for the first time.

The call came around 6:30 on a Wednesday night at the beginning of October.  Earlier in the day I’d gone to Target...mostly out of extreme boredom. Looking down at my phone, standing there outside the church, all rational thought left my mind.  By the area code I knew it was them! But in Georgia it was the middle of the night...so there’s no way the agency was calling with a court date...right?

“Are you ready for this?” our case manager asked.

“No. Yes. I have no idea!”  I was convinced it was more bad news.

“October 9th.  Your court date is October 9th.  Which means we need you to leave tomorrow.  Can you leave tomorrow?”

The rational thought still gone from my brain, I gave a “yes of course!” and tried to concentrate on what she told me.  As I listened, I dragged my husband out of conversation and around the corner of the building.

“IT’S THE CALL.”  I mouthed.

“What did they say?”

“October 9th.”

I resumed trying to focus while Kyle looked at his calendar.  Less than a week away. Then he quickly started sending texts to our family, pastoral staff, and a couple of friends.

When I got off the phone, I’m pretty sure I did a ridiculous dance.  I quickly raced through the church to pick Matthew up from the class where I had just dropped him off.  Calling my best friend, we agreed to meet at my house to start packing. From there, a blur of activity.  Talking to my father in law about plane tickets, my sister in law running to the store for last minute items, packing, packing, packing.  Activating international cell service, activating travel insurance, packing, packing, packing.

There was no sleep to be had that night.  I mean, I lay in bed quietly...but my brain couldn’t pause for a moment to rest.

The next day my sis in law came over to do some general cleaning and laundry folding (because she knows it would stress me out to leave those things undone) while I finished up the list of packing and prepping.  In the afternoon, my best friend and her husband returned to pick us up for the trip to the airport. We had to stop by the car shop to pick up the van that had been there a couple of days. I remember on the drive to the airport I wondered what in the world we’d gotten ourselves into.

After quick goodbyes and a prayer, Kyle, Matthew and I dragged all of our stuff into the airport.  We each had a suitcase with our own clothes (enough for about a week) and another shared suitcase with all our toiletries.  One suitcase was devoted almost completely to snacks, medicine, and various household needs to help us through the month long trip.  The last suitcase was full of little girl clothes that we hoped would fit the sweet one whose face we’d been staring at for nearly a year.  

In case you are wondering about my state of mind before we left the country, I nearly lost Kyle’s iPad and laptop going through security.  You see, when you have an insulin pump and continuous glucose monitor on your body while going through security, you have to spend extra one on one time with a friendly TSA agent.  That means your wife tries to gather all of her stuff, all of the seven year old’s stuff, and all of YOUR stuff off the moving belt before it piles up at the end of the screening area.  Soooo while Kyle spent quality time with the TSA guy, I quickly emptied buckets and stuffed our items back into backpacks. Except somehow I missed the bucket with the ipad and laptop (insert panic here).  Don’t worry!! Ten minutes and ten TSA agents later, we found it!

We arrived at the gate with plenty of time to spare, snapped a quick picture, and tried to relax.  Our first flight was to Munich, Germany and was supposed to last about 8 hours. We were flying through the night and hoped to get some sleep.  Honestly. How can any one sleep when you are on your way to meet the child you’ve been chasing after for SIX and a half YEARS??? Matthew got several hours...Kyle and I dozed off a bit.

In Munich we had a nine hour layover, followed by a shorter 4 hour flight to Tbilisi.  It was 4am on Saturday morning local time when we landed. Every sign was written in both the Georgian language and English.  We made our way through the airport to baggage claim and through the doors into the dark, cold morning. Our driver and facilitator were there to pick us up.  We loaded our luggage into the trunk and squeezed into the backseat for the trip to Akhaltsikhe where our daughter lived with her foster family.

After we left the city the road curved up, over, around the foothills of the mountainous terrain.  The sun rose behind us as we made our way west of the capital, revealing the stunning beauty of the Georgian countryside.  We pulled into the small town around 7:00 am. The guest house where we were to stay wasn’t expecting us yet, so we parked out front and our facilitator ran to the nearby breadshop to buy us a delicious fresh baked Georgian bread.  She passed it to us right away and we tore off large pieces to eat. The bread was huge--bigger than my lap--and stretched to a rounded point on opposite ends. The morning was chilly and we were hungry and so tired. The bread warmed us up as we waited for the owner of the guest house to arrive.

When our hostess arrived, she let us into the first level of the guest house.  The guest house was sandwiched in the middle of several other businesses. When walking through the door, the staircase was directly to the left, leading up to the second and third level.  The main level had an open area and two rooms, as well as a small kitchenette. The place was not truly open for business yet, but there was a couch to sit on and a little table where we could sit to eat.  We agreed to rest for about an hour while our hostess prepared us some breakfast.

Our room was located on the second floor.  The only window opened to the hallway. The bathroom was small and surprised us a bit.  I had never seen a showerhead that was simply attached to the side of the bathroom wall, drain in the floor.  To be honest, the entire bathroom was only a little larger than a typical American shower stall...and it held the sink and toilet in the same space.  As soon as we were in our room I began to settle in and make it homey as much as possible. We anticipated staying for at least five days and potentially two weeks.  With three twin beds, one nightstand, and the wardrobe for hanging clothes and a few shelves--we were a bit cramped. But in the midst of our exhaustion and excitement none of that mattered.  This was the day we would meet our daughter.

After a very short rest and quick showers, we met our facilitator and driver on the first level for a quick meal: boiled eggs, sausages (think hotdogs), a variety of cookies, fruit, and tea or instant coffee.  I can’t say any of us had much of an appetite. Too little sleep, too much excitement. And so it was time to go.

You can find part 3 here!