We received the adoption finalization petition from our attorney on Friday for us to sign and get back to him. That's good, because it means progress is being made. However, there was an error on it, and something else... The error was it lists my old old job (as in the one before the one I left a month ago). So that probably needs to be fixed. The other thing is, well, I don't know what to call it, or how to feel about it. Well, I'm irritated about some of it, but anyway.
Okay, here's what it is - baby E's last name isn't ours, it's R's. This may not seem like a big deal, but the thing is, it feels like it. We just assumed that his name was ours on the original birth certificate (educational moment, in case you don't know - you can give your baby any last name you want, yours, dad's, the president's, anyone's), and the documentation we received from the agency stated that it is. So, we've been going along all this time assuming he has our last name. We've given it to the pediatrician and the health department (where we've had to go for his shots). Heck, I even gave it to the IRS because we had to apply for a pseudo ID # for him so we can fill out our taxes (note: another adoption "thing" - though baby E has a SS# right now, we aren't allowed to have it. He'll be issued a new one once the adoption is finalized, along with a new birth certificate, listing us as his parents, which is another rant for another day. Anyway, it's a bunch-o-crap-pain-in-the-ass). But apparently, I've unknowingly been giving out fraudulent information.
With the kid, his last name was our last name, from the beginning; it was the birth mom's choice to do that. So, there was no changing his name when the adoption was finalized. I, we, just assumed baby E would be the same. And we had every reason to believe it was. But, apparently we were wrong. Apparently, because of some ridiculous overextension of confidentiality, we aren't even allowed to know our own son's last name. That's right. I mean, I realize the adoption isn't finalized, so he legally isn't "our son", but, for the love of all things holy, come on!!!! I'm a social worker, a therapist, I get the importance of confidentiality, but this is ridiculous. I can hardly imagine the uproar (social services) foster parents would get into if this were extended to them, so why us?!!
I don't like the idea of changing his name, even though it's just his last name, and even though it happens all the time with kids/adoptions. To me, and this is just my opinion, I feel like it's another loss, the change of a name. He's already lost so much (his birth parents, his original culture because try as we may we can't replicate that, living with and being raised by people who look like him, just to start), I hate to take 1 more thing from him. Obviously, we will change it, because he is part of our family, but that doesn't mean I can't feel conflicted (and icky and irritated about it).
So, anyhoo, that's where we are with that. As far as being sickly, baby E only seems to be snotty right now. And by snotty, I mean super snotty, so snotty the poor baby is havin' a hard time breathing especially at night. That, of course, means we're not sleeping well, but that, sadly, is nothing new. He otherwise seems to be back to his happy, sweet self. I sure adore that little guy. And that kid, geez, he's a riot. I am one lucky momma.
Today's lesson - the sun is awesome. Even when you're not sleeping much or well, or are irritated because of stupid, archaic rules, it helps you get through the day. Temps in the 60's are pretty helpful, too. Bring on Spring!!!
Showing posts with label paperwork. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paperwork. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The Process
Lots of people have asked over the last several years about the "process" of our adoption. So, that's what I'm going to talk about today.
As I've mentioned before, we contacted our agency in the Spring of 2005 (it was the only one we ever talked to), met with them shortly thereafter and filled out some preliminary information. I think this was a screening to assure we met their basic requirements like having been married for a minimum of 3 years, etc.... They weren't scheduled to have any classes for another 9-10 months, but ended up calling us shortly thereafter, asking if we were open to transracial adoption. After we discussed this, deciding we were indeed interested, we signed up to attend our class that fall. And then we started waiting.
Our class coincided with my starting Graduate School, which was good in a few ways. First, we still hadn't told anyone other than my mom about our plans to adopt (a post for another day) so it was easy to just pretend that the class we were attending were graduate classes (hubby was also in grad school, just finishing up). Second, it just helped to keep my mind busy. Our class met once a week for approximately 8 weeks. We discussed topics such as open adoption, legal risks, dealing with our own losses due to infertility, etc... There were 3 other couples in the class (btw, all of us had our babies placed with us within 6 months of the end of the class). I have nothing but absolutely positive things to say about our classes. They were informative, supportive, and just exciting because I felt like we were actually making progress!
During the second to last class, our social workers handed out the paperwork. And, as you can imagine, it was a mountain. We had to answer questions about what kinds of "situations" we were open to (legal risks, health issues, openness, etc... ), our individual medical histories, our financial situation, stuff about work, our reasons for wanting to adopt, and so much more. Unless you've been through it yourself, you can hardly imagine all the flippin' paperwork we had to fill out, and all the seriously personal questions we had to respond to on paper. It felt like all the world would have access to everything about us, though I realized that wasn't true. It was still a lot to have out there. And, while I understand why all that info was needed, it kind of makes me a little bitter, all that we had to go through to become parents.
I just knew in my heart that the paperwork needed to be completed and turned in before Christmas (2005). And, though the personal nature of the paperwork sometimes bothered me, having to actually do it was fine. Really, it felt like something over which I FINALLY had control. After we'd turned in everything - including our photo album (the beginning of my scrapbooking obsession) - we had our home visit with both social workers. This was really nerve-wrecking and I don't remember the last time every corner and closet of our house was so clean. In the end, the social workers hardly even looked around the house and were so very kind and friendly, as they had - and have - been about everything else. But again, we were back to the waiting.
At this point, what we were really waiting for was our reference letters (from both of our jobs, neighbors, financial institutions, personal friends). On a Tuesday at the end of January 2006, at approximately 11am, one of the social workers called and said everything was "in" and we were "officially waiting". I was initially irritated when the other social worker called back about 45 minutes later. She promptly explained that we'd actually been chosen by birth parents that morning who wanted to meet us that weekend. The irritation quickly melted into hysterical excitement.
I think I've pretty much told you the rest of how the kid came to us. Though, I haven't yet included the "process" of once he was born and became legally ours. I'll do that another day.
Today's lesson is one hubby learned the hard way recently. And, if you're my FB friend, you probably read it on my status update a few days ago. However, it just cracks me up so I'm going to share it here, too. Here it is: you should never shake a peach tree while standing under it. This will likely result in your being hit in the head with peaches. Instead, consider standing to the side, you know, so the peaches fall on the ground, not your head. The visual is still making me giggle.
As I've mentioned before, we contacted our agency in the Spring of 2005 (it was the only one we ever talked to), met with them shortly thereafter and filled out some preliminary information. I think this was a screening to assure we met their basic requirements like having been married for a minimum of 3 years, etc.... They weren't scheduled to have any classes for another 9-10 months, but ended up calling us shortly thereafter, asking if we were open to transracial adoption. After we discussed this, deciding we were indeed interested, we signed up to attend our class that fall. And then we started waiting.
Our class coincided with my starting Graduate School, which was good in a few ways. First, we still hadn't told anyone other than my mom about our plans to adopt (a post for another day) so it was easy to just pretend that the class we were attending were graduate classes (hubby was also in grad school, just finishing up). Second, it just helped to keep my mind busy. Our class met once a week for approximately 8 weeks. We discussed topics such as open adoption, legal risks, dealing with our own losses due to infertility, etc... There were 3 other couples in the class (btw, all of us had our babies placed with us within 6 months of the end of the class). I have nothing but absolutely positive things to say about our classes. They were informative, supportive, and just exciting because I felt like we were actually making progress!
During the second to last class, our social workers handed out the paperwork. And, as you can imagine, it was a mountain. We had to answer questions about what kinds of "situations" we were open to (legal risks, health issues, openness, etc... ), our individual medical histories, our financial situation, stuff about work, our reasons for wanting to adopt, and so much more. Unless you've been through it yourself, you can hardly imagine all the flippin' paperwork we had to fill out, and all the seriously personal questions we had to respond to on paper. It felt like all the world would have access to everything about us, though I realized that wasn't true. It was still a lot to have out there. And, while I understand why all that info was needed, it kind of makes me a little bitter, all that we had to go through to become parents.
I just knew in my heart that the paperwork needed to be completed and turned in before Christmas (2005). And, though the personal nature of the paperwork sometimes bothered me, having to actually do it was fine. Really, it felt like something over which I FINALLY had control. After we'd turned in everything - including our photo album (the beginning of my scrapbooking obsession) - we had our home visit with both social workers. This was really nerve-wrecking and I don't remember the last time every corner and closet of our house was so clean. In the end, the social workers hardly even looked around the house and were so very kind and friendly, as they had - and have - been about everything else. But again, we were back to the waiting.
At this point, what we were really waiting for was our reference letters (from both of our jobs, neighbors, financial institutions, personal friends). On a Tuesday at the end of January 2006, at approximately 11am, one of the social workers called and said everything was "in" and we were "officially waiting". I was initially irritated when the other social worker called back about 45 minutes later. She promptly explained that we'd actually been chosen by birth parents that morning who wanted to meet us that weekend. The irritation quickly melted into hysterical excitement.
I think I've pretty much told you the rest of how the kid came to us. Though, I haven't yet included the "process" of once he was born and became legally ours. I'll do that another day.
Today's lesson is one hubby learned the hard way recently. And, if you're my FB friend, you probably read it on my status update a few days ago. However, it just cracks me up so I'm going to share it here, too. Here it is: you should never shake a peach tree while standing under it. This will likely result in your being hit in the head with peaches. Instead, consider standing to the side, you know, so the peaches fall on the ground, not your head. The visual is still making me giggle.
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