All about Zola

All the other kids were playing, and Zola was snoozing.
This is a good sign she'll sleep through the chaos at our house!

A lot of people have questions about Zola, especially because she is joining our family through adoption rather than at birth.  Here's my best effort to tell what we know about her.

When was she born?  Her legal date of birth is August 30, 2012, but I don't know when she was born.  We are doing an independent adoption, which means we are working directly with an attorney in Kinshasa.  (We have enlisted the services of some people who help with document review and translations, and they are the people we direct most questions to.)  In this type of adoption, the children placed are all considered wards of the state, which means that they have no known parents.  Some people term this an "abandonment" case.  When Zola was taken into the social welfare system (perhaps too formal a term for what it actually is) in her commune, they estimated her age and gave her a birth date based on that.  Her pictures so far and a friend's account of a visit with her recently suggest her birth date is pretty accurate, but unfortunately she will grow up without knowing the exact day she was born.

How did she end up in an orphanage? A lot of birth parents say, "This isn't my story to tell."  I'm not sure if I feel that way about Zola's story.  She is very young and will likely never remember this part of her life.  But that said, out of respect for others involved in her story who may be judged harshly for their actions, I will leave it very vague.  Most likely, whoever was caring for her could no longer do so. Formula is outrageously expensive in the DRC, and in some cases, children end up in the social welfare system because their caretaker cannot afford it.  In other instances, it's not just about the cost of raising the child but the availability of a family member or friend able to do so.  Through a series of events, the full details of which even we don't know, Zola wound up in an orphanage and eligible to be adopted.  To the best of our knowledge, she does not have anyone able to care for her in the DRC.

The US Embassy will reconfirm the details of her "abandonment" before giving her a visa prior to coming home with us.  This was an important part our decision about who to use when we adopted as we wanted as ethical a process as possible.  The attorney we're working with is well known by the Embassy and people who have worked there for many years.  We simply won't ever know whether a little support or encouragement could have made it possible for someone to keep Zola.  We have, since becoming involved with the adoption world, been made aware of efforts in the DRC and elsewhere in that part of Africa to either keep children with a family member or place them with local families, with financial support for formula, diapers, and basic healthcare.  If we had not adopted Zola, someone else would have.  We did not have the ability to change her circumstances in any other way, but we do for other children and now support those efforts to reduce the number of cases in which a child is "abandoned" due to the dire poverty so many face in the DRC. 

Who is taking care of her right now? A very sweet lady is the house momma in one "apartment" of the orphanage where Zola is living.  Money we paid as part of our adoption costs help pay for her services, plus formula, diapers, and whatever else is needed.  According to our friend who has visited the orphanage, Zola sleeps in bed with the momma, so we'll likely co-sleep early on to help ease the transition.  This woman cares for about half a dozen kids ranging from two weeks to several years old.  It's hard to know what life is like for the kids there, but from what we know, it seems like Zola gets a lot of love (and clearly plenty of formula!).  Our friend said the kids all have diapers, do not look malnourished, and the older ones have shoes (important because of parasites that enter through the feet).  I am encouraged to know she's being well taken care of, as that kind of love helps children form healthy attachments to their new family members.  That said, I can't wait to be the one to take care of her!

Is she healthy? As far as we can tell, yes.  She's definitely got some nice cheeks and thighs right now :)  We got some basic medical information on her at referral, including her HIV status.  Her iron levels were extremely low then, but based on her age and the circumstances of her coming to the orphanage, that makes sense.  She may have health issues that we won't know about until she's here and we can run the newborn screening panels that are standard in the US, but that's something we are prepared to deal with when the time comes.  She will see our pediatrician as soon as she comes home, and we will likely visit the international adoption clinic at Vanderbilt if there are any concerns the pediatrician does not feel comfortable handling.  Children who have been adopted from similar circumstance often have worms or other intestinal parasites, so that's something we'll watch for.

How do you get pictures and updates? Two ways -- the services we enlisted stateside to help with the adoption include once-a-month (or so) photos and, to the extent possible, updates on the child.  Zola is a baby so there's not as much to tell as with older kids.  We got photos when we received her referral, then some about six weeks later, right before Thanksgiving.  Last week, another mother was traveling to bring her two new children home.  She's using the same attorney as us, and her girls had lived at the same orphanage.  She was able to visit a little with Zola and some of the other kids and take photos.  (We are only sharing them privately on this blog out of safety concerns for Zola and the other children at the orphanage.)  We sent over a Ziploc of items for her about a month ago, including the outfit she was wearing in the most recent pictures (one Emme wore as a baby).  This level of transparency is part of what gives us comfort about the ethical nature of the process.  There are multiple parties "keeping an eye" on her and the place where she is staying.

Anything else? Not much.  Our friend who visited was able to tell us that she's a fairly calm, easygoing baby.  She is smiling (though not in any photos we've seen yet).  She holds her head up well but doesn't seem to be sitting up yet.  No teeth buds, but lots of drool.  Her hair is really soft right now, though hair texture commonly changes for African children in the first few years, so it's hard to know what she'll end up with.  Counting the days until I have more tell!  

Meet Zola

Our first picture of Zola (October 2012)

Saw her again right before Thanksgiving (November 2012)

From a week ago, when a friend got to visit with her (December 2012)

Sisters

Tutus for my two girls!

Dress up anyone?

Fun winter hats!

Thank you, Grandma N.!

Le lapin

When I was pregnant with Oliver, I found this plush Nici monkey that I'd given to Wes at some point.  Along with a super soft blue Little Giraffe blanket, that was his lovie (aptly named Lovie).  When I was pregnant with Emmeline, I found a sheep (named Baa).  Her little chair and swing were a lamb, too, and then my mom gave her this purple one-piece outfit with a ruffle butt that had a lamb on it.  She also got a super soft pink Little Giraffe blanket. Oliver never really bonded with Lovie but does love his blanket.  His real lovie is his Cookie Monster doll that his Grandma Kay gave him.  Emmeline has bonded with not only Baa but every other animal in her bed and in the house, including the dog.  She snuggles at night not with her pink blanket but the afghan Grandma Neiheisel made her.

A few weeks ago, after the adoption judgment had come through, I decided it was time to get Zola her blanket and lovie.  I found this bunny rabbit and got a matching caramel colored Little Giraffe blanket.  Then last week I was in a store and saw this adorable shirt by Peek.  It had a bunny on it and said "lapin," which I somehow knew was French for rabbit.  So Zola will be our little bunny with her own Lapin for a lovie.

Hurray home, baby girl.  We're getting all ready for you.

More Oliver-isms

On music:
Oliver (in the car on the way home): "Mom, what kind of music is this?"
Me: "It's Christmas music."
Oliver: "Oh.  We didn't have these kinds of songs in the green car."

On counting:
Oliver: "Mom, what's the last number?"
Me: "What do you mean, Ollie?"
Oliver: "When you're counting -- what's the last number?"

On fire safety: "Engine ears are firemans, too."
Ah -- engineers.

On his future: "Next year, I'm going to Ms. Tonya's class.  And then I'm going to kindergarten.  And then college.  And then my job and I'll work."

Upon arriving at school --
Oliver: "Mom, why are there teachers at school?"
Me: "To teach you things."
Oliver: "But I already know everything."
Uh-oh.

Whispering loudly, upon hearing me on the stairs in the morning: "Come on, Emme, let's hide."

Upon hearing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" on the radio:  "Reindeer have umbrellas up on their head, and there's a daddy reindeer, and he holds the umbrella for the baby."

Chewing

I can see that Oliver is really thinking hard about Zola and why we are bringing her home to live with us.  He asks questions every once in awhile not just about when she's coming home ("after Christmas" is the vague answer right now) and where she will sleep or what she will eat, but also questions like "Why is Zola going to be our sister?"  I keep telling him the same thing, and he's starting to make sense of it.  He seems to get that now, but there's new questions.  "Who's taking care of her now, if you and daddy are here?"  He's always been sensitive, and I can see that trying to understand this is really hard for him.  I don't know that I'll have easy answers to these questions or many others in the years to come, but I hope he keeps asking.

And then there were three

She won't be home for Christmas,
but she's already part of the family.

I am the mother of three children – two who live in my home and have been with me since even before their birth, and one who lives in the Democratic Republic of Congo and whom I have never met.  Her name is Zola, and she is estimated to be around three months old.  Today, officially, I am her mother.

A little more than one year ago, Wes and I began talking about having more children.  It began earlier than that, of course, but that’s when the path that led us to Zola began.  And it started, as any good story in the modern age would, with a forwarded email.  Wes, who never ever forwards emails, sent one along sharing the news that a resident in his department had recently adopted a child from China.  It was the second beginning of a conversation that had started when Emme was only six months old.  We had talked then about the possibility of adopting, had looked into foster care and domestic adoption, and had ultimately, for a variety of reasons, dismissed the idea of doing an adoption of any kind, but especially international.  But then Wes forwarded this email, and the conversations started all over again and more in earnest.  Emme was a year old, and if we were going to keep the children relatively close in age, we would want to start the process sooner than later.  In the course of our conversations, Wes and I did what we usually do – I spent hours online reading blogs of adoptive families, researching adoption agencies, and learning about international and transracial adoption from the adoptive parents’ and adopted child’s perspectives; Wes thought.  For months, we would lie down at night, and I would tell him everything I’d read about, hoping he’d decide to move forward.  Instead, he would fall asleep, and I would lie awake with my head churning.  We talked about where to adopt from, how many, what special needs we were comfortable handling.  After lots and lots and lots of bedtime conversation, we chose a placement agency to work with and found a local home study worker to begin the process.  We collected paperwork, met with our home study agent and had her to the house, and got criminal background checks at the local, state, and federal levels.  Within a few months, we had completed our home study and also left the agency we had started with to work with a Congolese attorney through a U.S. coordinator.  By early October, after one final round of fingerprinting at the local USCIS office, we were “paper ready” – we had a complete dossier and approval from the U.S. government to bring an adopted child (or two) to the United States as our dependents to become citizens.

On October 4, I got a phone call from our coordinator in the U.S. letting me know there was a six-week-old baby girl waiting for placement.  She had no name, and the pictures showed a teeny baby with full head of hair.  (No photos in the blogosphere until she’s here in the U.S.)  It took a week or more to get her medicals and go over them with some pediatric friends who had experience in that part of Africa, but ten days later, we officially accepted the referral.  Her medical form showed that she had been given the name Zola.  We wired money to begin the legal proceedings and help pay for her to be cared for by a foster mother rather than in an orphanage, sent over our dossier, and waited to hear that things were moving forward.  Not quite four weeks later, we got another phone call, this time letting us know that we had already passed court and were in the 30-day appeals period.  A few days later I got the judgment papers that “pronounce the adoption of the child Zola to these claimants Mr. Wesley Hamilton Self and Mm. Elizabeth Anne Self “ and “that the child Zola will be renamed Zola Self.”  Seeing her name with ours on the court documents made us certain that we would keep her given name.  It means “peaceful” in Swahili. 

I don’t know that there is a really good explanation for why we decided to adopt.  When we got pregnant with Ollie and Emme, I was beyond excited.  I’ve always wanted to be a mom, and I’ve always thought I’d have a big family (if four children counts as big).  After I had Oliver, I had no doubt that I wanted to have another child and also to be pregnant again.  But after I had Oliver, I started to wonder if we should have more.  I also knew that I didn’t care if I was ever pregnant again.  Our kids have both been born with some anomalies – nothing life-threatening, per se, but things that are clearly related to our mix of genetic material and that could be associated with much more significant problems.  More importantly, I felt strange about getting pregnant again and having more children when I had become, with age, increasingly aware of the number of children that need families.  I don’t think adoption is “the right thing to do,” but for families like ours who see it as something they want to do and are prepared for the specific challenges it comes with, I do see it as a good thing to do.  Mind you, it doesn’t make us good people for doing it.

There is a much easier reason to explain why we chose the DRC.  Some are personal reasons.  Several years ago, Wes and I spent a few weeks in Tanzania, a neighboring country of the DRC, where Wes worked in a pediatrics ward.  We enjoyed our time there – the people, the culture, even the landscape.  We’ve talked about going back, especially with our children when they are older.  We feel, in some small way, connected to that part of the world more than anywhere else.  When we decided to adopt, I wanted it to be from a place that we would want to someday return to.  Zola will never know her birth parents, but I can make sure she knows the country where she was born.  I also wanted it to be a place where there were more children that needed families than the country could currently care for.  We currently sponsor two children (and their families – goats and chickens for Christmas!) in the DRC for this very reason.  The realities for children living in the DRC are harsh, especially for those estimated 5 million who are orphans.  According to a recent CNN article, the U.N. has labeled the DRC "the rape capital of the world" because rape is used as a weapon of war; an estimated 1,100 girls and women are raped every day.  Young boys in eastern Congo are often forced to become child soldiers.  And that is for those who live long enough.  According to the most recent World Factbook, the DRC is number 13 among nations for its infant mortality rate (77 deaths per 1,000 births).  Adopting one child, or even two, from a country in which children face such odds is hardly likely to change the realities there -- but it does have the potential to change the life of that one child, who may choose later in life to make her career in something that allows her to make an even bigger difference.  Her life story may make others aware of the needs in this place.  But make no mistake – in the few months it will take us to complete the process and bring Zola home, many more children will become orphans through disease, famine, and war.  The money we are spending to adopt her could have been spent on many other things, including formula for young children who might be able to stay with their birth families.  We feel like our choice to adopt from the DRC is a good one, but in this sense, it is also a selfish one.

Yesterday marked the end of our 30-day appeals period, and now, I am legally Zola’s mother.  The next few weeks and months will be full of excitement in our house – preparing the house, planning our travels to bring her to the U.S., and getting everything in order to meet our new daughter.  Her arrival in our home will hardly be the end of the story as we get to know her, she comes to know us as her parents, and all the siblings adjust to each other.  For any number of reasons, this is not like having another baby.   There is great joy in adoption, but there is loss, too.  Zola has lost her birth parents and will eventually be separated from the foster mother who has been caring for her.  In coming to the U.S. she will lose her nationality and the customs of her homeland.  We will do what we can to preserve a sense of all of these things in her life over the coming years, but there is loss nonetheless.  The challenges that result from this loss will come repeatedly over time, popping up in different ways, often unexpectedly.  We will have to help her cope with being an adopted child in a family with biological ones.  We will have to help her make sense of her identity as a Black child in an otherwise White family in a nation where race continues to be salient.  We will do our best, and have prepared in the ways we know how, but at times we will certainly fail and hope this resilient little girl is able to bounce back from our inevitable missteps as we learn with her.

We are not sure if our family is now done.  Unless something changes, we expect to add another child, a brother, in a few years.  Hopefully, we will have the chance to adopt again from the DRC and give Zola a sibling that can connect to her life story in ways that Ollie and Emme will not.  That door may close, however, and in that case, we would consider other routes for adoption (including domestic) or perhaps decide that our family is complete.  For now, we are finally letting ourselves imagine a home with three (3!) kiddos in it, one of whom is going to need me to be able to do her hair soon after joining us!

Zola Elizabeth Self, welcome to our family.  And thank you for having us.

By any other name

Oliver: "Mom, why do moms and dads not have whole names?"
Me: "What do you mean, Oliver?"
Oliver: "Like, why don't you and daddy have a whole name?"
Me: "What's your whole name?"
Oliver: "Oliver."

Thinking I have clarified the question, I respond.

Me: "Mommy and daddy do have whole names.  Daddy's is Wesley.  Mine is Elizabeth.  But we go by Wes and Liz.  You and Emme calls us mom and dad because we're your mom and dad."
Oliver: "But mom is only three letters, and Oliver is more than that."

Aha.  I see.

All night long

Yesterday, I read a post by another blogger about her efforts to get her son, whose twin sister has been potty trained for a while now, to make it dry through the night.  I'm not sure how old her son is, but since this is something we've tried and failed with Oliver, I read the post and the comments with great attention.  I then ordered a few cloth training pants for Emmeline, who will remove the cloth diapers (that have snaps on them) and only wants to wear Pull-ups, which are both expensive and wasteful.  I also devised a scheme, which I have now undertaken.

Last night at dinner, I told Oliver he was going to bed in underwear.  "Why?" he asked.  A sentiment that Wes quickly echoed.  

"Because you're a big boy," I said.  "And big boys go to sleep in their undies and then wake up when they need to go pee."  For the rest of the evening, I talked with him about how we would go potty right before bed, then again right before I went to bed, and then how if he woke up and needed to pee he would jump up and get on the potty, or if he had an accident, yell for mommy to come and help him.  I thought it was worth a few days of laundry to give this an honest effort.

So he peed when we got on pajamas around 7:30.  He peed again when he went to bed a little after 8.  I took him, successfully, around 11:30 when Wes and I went to bed.  And then, this morning, Wes jumped up out of bed at 5:30 and went upstairs, where Oliver was on the toilet and very proud of himself.  "Guess what, dad?  I went to sleep in my undies and I am all dry."  Wes gave him a high five.  Ollie peed, went back to bed, and less than twenty minutes later was yelling downstairs: "Hey guys, I pooped."  (At what age my children will use the facilities without announcing it, I'm not sure, but I will throw a party at my house on that day.)  I got up, gave him a high five, and helped him get cleaned up.  Another twenty minutes later, he was calling down again.  And then the whole house was up.  (Which explains why, as I type this upstairs, I can hear him fussing at Wes over dinner.)

So one night dry.  We'll see how it continues to go.

As for Emme, she spent the day in cloth training pants, underwear/diaper insert combos, and Pull-ups.  I put her on the potty every 15-45 minutes, depending on whether she goes on the toilet, and we've even been recording when she's wet or goes on the toilet, in the hopes I can figure out when she normally needs to go.  My mother-in-law spent the day with the kids while Wes and I were car shopping, and evidently Emme spent a decent part of the afternoon digesting the many blueberries she ate last night at dinner, mostly (but not completely) in the toilet.  

So we're off and running -- small steps towards two in underwear, and one who does not require Cars-themed Pull-ups at night.  Wish me luck!

Hard questions

Last night at dinner time, Oliver asked apropos to nothing, "Why doesn't Zola have a mommy?"  I had no idea how to communicate to him how little we know about the answer to that question.  I tried to explain to him that her mommy might be sick or hurt or just couldn't take care of her, so she gave her to someone to find Zola a new family.  He seemed satisfied.  Wes told him that we would be her new family, and that I would be her mommy.

He thought for a minute and then asked, "Did her daddy go away, too?"  I explained that her daddy couldn't take care of her either, for some reason that we don't know.

"I think they're sick, maybe," he said.  He might be right.  How do I explain the orphan crisis in sub-Saharan Africa to a four year old in a way that does justice to the complicated history of that place?  How do I tell my child, the one who cried after watching Dumbo, that his new sister is just one of so many who don't know why their parents couldn't take care of them?

I can see already how this little girl is going to change the way my children -- all of them -- will look at the world and their family.  I thank her for that.

It was the best of times, and it was really, really cold

Or, a sub-50's day at Lucky Ladd Farms

Feeding the animals (and a little disappointed none of the fainting goats fainted)

Emme was SO COLD, so I gave her my gloves.

Pretty in purple

Emmeline feeds the dog.

Emme's first haircut

Emme got her first haircut last weekend. They only charged me $5 for a trim because there was so little to come off, but she now looks more like a cute little girl and less like someone with a mullet.  It'll be a long time until I can put in true ponytails or pigtails, but we're also not at the point where I have to deal with barrettes to keep hair out of her eyes.  Despite the minuscule amount of hair that came off, she was very proud of having had her very first haircut!

Three hours at the zoo

Surgery #4

Emmeline had her fourth surgery on her congenital nevi at the beginning of November.  She's almost completely healed from it now, with a bandage on the lower half of her leg and one on her shoulder, where a small nevus was taken out.  Our surgery was a bit later this time, so I didn't have to wake her up early.  She fortunately made it the few hours to surgery without fussing about food or drink and instead played around the waiting room.  She checked out the fish in the tank, we read some books I'd taken (including a new one, Little Blue Dump Truck), and she carried around the infectious disease stuffed microbes Wes brought home from the CDC is her cute little purse.  (When her surgeon was completing the pre-surgical checklist, she asked, "Any exposure to infectious disease?" she laughed and said, "Well, I guess she's been playing with MRSA and the flu and...".)

They carried her off to surgery just before 9am, and this was the first time she cried when they did so.  She'd been shy of the nurses and anesthesiologists all morning, as though she knew what was coming.  She was out in about three hours, and we were home in about three and a half.  She was pretty upset when we got back to the PACU -- just couldn't get comfortable and wanted her IV out.  The PACU charge nurse knew Wes, which may have led to her discharging us pretty quickly.

I took her home and had her sitting on the couch with a sippy cup and some Cheerios by the time my mom got there.  She took a short nap in the afternoon and was sore but consolable.  On Tuesday she would sit by herself and play with toys but wouldn't move around at all.  On Wednesday we went to the library in the morning with Oliver for story hour, and she was starting to move a little bit.  She wouldn't put weight on her healing leg (which was casted) until Thursday or Friday, when she started pulling up, and by Sunday she was walking -- then running -- on her cast, which made it easier to return to daycare on Monday.

We successfully made it 10 days with no back (stinky Emme!) before we saw Dr. Chester for a follow-up.  She took the cast off, and we were able to just start wrapping it.  It looks like it's healing well -- no infection (surgery #2) or gaping wounds (surgery #3) this time.  The surgeon thought we might be able to get by with just one more after this go-round, another graft, but we're skeptical with such a significant band left that it's possible.  Regardless, we probably won't do anything until next fall again, which means she'll have time to just play and run.  Still, we're getting closed to being done with surgeries!

A trip to Sapphire, North Carolina

Make like a tree

Trains at Cheekwood Botanical Gardens

Over all, she's a pretty good kid

Smooth(ie)

Cool pose