Here

It’s 10:50PM Kinshasa time, and I should be getting some sleep after having very little the past few days, but I can’t help but record some thoughts before I go to bed.  The next few days may go by too quickly to really remember them well, and for all that we cannot remember for Zola about her life as a young child, this is one thing we can. 

My first few moments here in my room at St. Anne’s Procure mark the end of over 24 hours of traveling and more than a week of preparing to travel.  I spent the end of last week and all weekend finishing the upstairs of the house and helping Wes with a little bit in the basement, packing, and trying to do a few fun things with the kids.  I also spent them wondering if I would even be leaving as planned.  Late last week, the US State Department did a surprise visit to the consular in Kinshasa to look at the adoption process. Evidently, some agencies and attorneys have not been acting ethically, and the US is finally doing something about it.  That, of course, is good news.  The DRC has a famously corrupt government, and like Ethiopia before it went Hague, an increasing number of adoptive families wanting to adopt from here has led to a host of unethical practices.  The brief statement released last week said simply that there will now be a 3-6 month wait period between I600 approval (or the US government giving provisional approval to bring a named child, who has already been adopted, back to US on a visa) and visa issuance.  That is precisely where we were – and still are.  Our embassy appointments were January 24 and 25.  By the time this came to the fore, a week had already passed and presumably, our investigation was done.  When the announcement first came out, there were no parameters about which cases would be subject to the new longer investigations.  I went from thinking I was leaving in a few days to the possibility of it being several more months.  I panicked a little, had a cry, and then got myself to the point where I knew that, if that’s what had to happen, we would bear it and still bring her home.  She is being well cared for by her foster mother (as all her update pictures show!), but we obviously were anxious to meet her, bring her home, and begin the attachment and bonding process.  By the end of the week, we knew we would not be subject to the new, longer investigation, but I wasn’t sure how much the visit from the state department would slow down our issuance.  Two families who had appointments before us were still waiting for their visas at this point.  Against some advice to the contrary, I resolved to travel anyway.  There is some belief among adoptive parents that being in country speeds things along, and the main person in change of issuing the actual visa is leaving for a month’s vacation to the US on Friday.   I decided to chance it – come, and if the visa takes a few days, then Zola and I will just have a few more days here together to bond before the long trip home.  The other families waiting have since gotten their visas, so we should, presumably, be next in line for ours.

Tuesday morning, I had breakfast with the kids, packed up a few final items, took them to daycare with Wes for final hugs and kisses, had coffee with him, and then he drove me to the airport around 11:00AM with all 100+ pounds of my luggage.  The lady at the ticket counter was terribly helpful and checked my bags through to Kinshasa.  I was there way too early, with my heart beating out of my chest from nerves, but I knew that with each step I would feel a little calmer.  The flight from Nashville to O’Hare was just under two hours, and I began reading one of the many books I brought with me for entertainment.  I had a1 ½-hour layover at O’Hare airport, where I boarded a plane at 6:00PM bound for Brussels.  The flight was almost full and the seats small and cramped.  I finished my book, tried in vain to watch a movie, ate dinner, and slept a little before they turned the lights back on for a small breakfast.  We arrived almost an hour early, around 8:45AM Brussels time.  There, I had to transfer to a different concourse where all of the Africa flights leave out of.  The patronage began to look more, well, African at this point.  The people speaking a polyglot of language – French, German, Swahili, Lingala, and little bits of accented English – and were very nattily dressed, particularly in comparison to my tshirt, sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers.  There was what appeared to be (and was later confirmed as) another adoptive couple on the flight as well as a few single women who are either missionaries or doing faith-related NGO work here in the DRC. 

The flight from Brussels to Kinshasa was long and slow.  The flight left at 10:40 and arrived in Kinshasa at 6:40, no time change at all.  It just goes straight south.  I dozed on and off, read another book, and watched two movies.  I had never flown Brussels Airline before, but I have to say that, as usual with European travel, they got it right.  The airsplane was cleaner, brighter, bigger, and in this case, more sparely populated. I was the only person actually seated on my row, though one person moved later just to spread out.  (I’m really hoping this happens on the way back with daughter in tow!)  There was a huge range of entertainment to watch, lots of beverage carts for water and more, and we got a nice lunch along with a small dinner before deboarding.  At the very end of the flight, a Belgian man sitting across the aisle made small talk.  He was interested in the adoption and very kind.

I was most nervous this whole trip about getting off the airplane in Kinshasa.  I’d heard it was hot, chaotic, and crowded – and it was, but not as bad it could have been.  I don’t speak either French or Lingala, the most useful here in the city, but I think our trips to Tanzania (though safer than the DRC) and St. Petersburg (where I also spoke none of the language) prepared me for the discomfort that can come in such a setting.  There were men in uniforms all over the place.  I didn’t see many carrying guns, but I’m sure they were around.  I deboarded and was on the first bus that delivered us to customs.  I had my documents ready and came through with no issue.  I showed my yellow fever card and then was let into the baggage area, where I waited for another 45 minutes to claim my two big bags.  Jacky, who is our Congolese attorney (and also the mother a 4, 2, and 5-month old!), had one of the guards come find me near the carousel and let me know she was outside when I was ready.  She and a friend of their family’s waited patiently for me to emerge and then helped me with my bags to the car.  A man in a military uniform approached the car as we were leaving.  Both Jacky and the man tried to roll up their windows and avoid him, but he persisted, and I’m pretty sure some cash exchanged hands for us to leave.  White people attract a lot of attention here. 

The drive to St. Anne’s, where I’m staying, is not far, but it is very slow.  I couldn’t see a whole lot because darkness had already fallen and there’s no electricity in much of the city (populated by around 17 million people, making it the 11^th largest city in the world).  Jacky chatted with me on and off.  She saw Sarah, who issues the visas, today when she went in to pick one up the family ahead of the us in the process and who are arriving tomorrow.  A little got lost in translation, but she seemed to think we would likely get our visa tomorrow.  I’m to call Sarah in the morning, and she thinks Sarah will tell me to come in the afternoon to pick it up.  Once I have Zola’s visa, Jacky can submit the paperwork necessary for our exit letter.  She’s guessing around one week right now, but if the visa takes longer or the DGM moves slowly, it could be longer.  I’m mentally prepared for longer. 

The streets of Kinshasa are like nothing you would ever find in the US.  In many ways, they do remind me of Tanzania.  Lots people walking – with baskets or good for sale or children in tow.  There are vans packed full of people stopping at irregular intervals to pick up and drop off people.  The difference here – that I didn’t see as much of in my time in Tanzania – was the sheer volume of people (and of course, the fact that it’s way less safe for tourists here – something I don’t plan to find out firsthand).  There are very young children selling sodas on the side of the road or just hanging around.  There are throngs of people crossing the road at various points, aware of but somehow not afraid of, the many cars and trucks and vans blaring by.  Sammy, Jacky’s friend who drove us, both terrified and impressed me with his driving.  (The steering wheel, I should note, was on the right, but we also drove on the right side of the road.)

When we got in the gates of the compound, Jacky talked with the woman minding the desk.  They had not received my follow up email, it turns out, with my revised dates for travel.  They had no reservation for me.  Fortunately, there are lots of empty rooms here.  Unfortunately, they’re on a floor with no lights.  I have water and I have power for charging my phone and running the AC (and I even have pretty good internet!), but I just don’t have lights.  Which ultimately is fine.  I unpacked all my bags so that I can easily find things.  I took a quick rinse – my first cold shower here! – to feel a little cleaner before climbing in bed.

I wish, of course, that my husband were here with me in our little room, but I know that in the long run, this was the best plan.  If I’m stuck here a few more days, he’s not worried about shifts coming up and the kids aren’t away from their home and normal routine.  And given the daily surprises at the new house (and not the good kind), I was honestly a little leery of leaving it unattended for two or more weeks.  Wes sent me an email tonight saying that all is going well at home.  Emme has been asking where I am, but Oliver – who rehearsed the plan over and over again – is quick to remind her what I’m doing.  Lucy is enjoying – and abiding by – her new inground, electric fence (evidently one shock was all it took!).  Grandpa John is visiting today and will help Wes with small projects around the house, and his mom is in and out as usual to visit the kids.  I miss them, and will more with each day that passes, but I’m trying to focus on my reason for being here. 

Tomorrow around 10, I will meet Zola.  Breakfast is between 7:15 and 8:00AM, so I will rise at 7 to eat, meet some other families, and then do some morning errands – prominent among them buying a phone from the Jewish supermarket up the street and calling the embassy to check on Zola’s visa.  And then, I expect, I’ll spend the rest of the day around the procure sitting with my girl – figuring out what she’s like, what she likes, and how we’ll get things done while here.  For now, I will treasure the darkness, the gentle sounds the storm outside, and my last night of sleep without a baby to attend to.  

On our last night at the old house

To my daughter, who is two

Dear Emmeline,

I'm sitting on the couch in the living room of the house we brought you home to two years ago, and above me, I can hear you running around your room more than an hour into your "nap."  Your father and I have been up to reprimand you at least three times, once having removed a wad of wipes from your bed and another a pile of toys you took from the toy bin.  (Your dad said when he walked in you looked at him, smiled, and yawned.)  This moment, perhaps as well as any other one, embodies what it has been like to be your mother for the past two years.

If I could choose a few words that describe you, I would say busy, independent, spirited, and tough.  You have been a busy little girl since conception.  I remember sitting in one of my first classes as a PhD student, while one of my classmates looked at me with this strange face.  She could see the sharp kicks I was getting from you in utero and couldn't believe how strong you were.  Once you were born, you squirmed.  Once you could crawl, you were off.  And now that you are totally mobile, well, you are everywhere -- most recently climbing the couch and standing on chairs to reach the light switches.  Yesterday, your dad and I just laughed as you stood on a step stool in the bathroom for ten minutes or more turning on and off three switches.  In the last few months, you have become very independent, sometimes thanks to the six inches the step stool gives you.  Independent is not one of the many words you know, but there are three others that pretty much say it all: "Emme do it."  It's usually four words, though: "No," -- in response to whatever we are trying to help you with -- "Emme do it."   You are also a very willful child.  When your daddy came home from the hospital after I gave birth, he told your grandmother, "She likes to be held."  And you've been fussing your way into whatever you want since then -- or trying to.  You fussed as a baby.  You cry now, until I tell you that I don't know what you want unless you tell me.  You've been in the "terrible twos" of tantrums for at least six months.  You just have certain expectations in life, and "no," "not now," and "wait" are not words you like to hear.  But you're learning.  Sometimes when I've told you the same thing over and over again, you parrot it back to me with the same intonation.  So I know you're listening, even if it's not something you want to hear.  Spirited is maybe a nice way to say willful.  You have this adult-size personality in this little bitty body.  (We haven't weighed you recently, but I doubt you're much more than 25 pounds, the size your brother was at age one.)  And yet you take a lot of energy to keep up with.  You make these great faces, roll and cut your eyes, and recently have begun to harass your older brother, who is surely the meeker of the two of you.  "Sit down!" you tell him at dinner.  And when he's acting up, "Time out."  He doesn't think much of it (and for that matter, neither do I, though it's hilarious to watch).  And in the midst of your busyness and independence, you fall down, a lot, and usually don't make much of it.  Complete strangers have commented at the playground on how tough you are.  I suppose you've been made this way, quite literally, through the four surgeries you've had since birth.  Who else has hunks of skin removed and sewn back together without needing really any pain medication afterwards?

You are lots of other things, too.  At two, you can already converse with me, though not everyone else would understand it.  You used to answer every question with "yeah," like Sandra Bullock at the beginning of Miss Congeniality.  You've recently switched to "okay."  You are daytime potty trained (with an 80% confidence margin), which is just fantastic.  You love to read, maybe even more than your brother if that's possible.  "Read" was one of your first words, always used as a command.  Sometimes I think you say you need to go potty just so we'll read to you.  You can almost sing the ABC song, can count to ten, and can sing several little tunes.  You know your siblings' names and love to go pick up Oliver when I get you from daycare.  Your teachers at daycare think you're hilarious.

There are so many little things I wish I could capture about you right now.  Your funny run.  The sassy glint in your eye when I go up to get you after nap and you're sitting in your bed completely naked.  The way you and Oliver play together.  The way you lie down on Lucy's bed with her and pat her, or how excited you get to feed her.  How you laugh with glee after she takes the bone out of your pocket (one of your favorite games with her).  The way you ask to watch something before bedtime -- "Daniel Tiger?" you ask.  Or "Poppins?"  Or one of my favorites, "Soobya," which translates to "Scooby Doo, where are you?"

One of the things I love most about you is that you are a momma's girl.  When you feel sick or scared or upset, you want me.  (Of course, when I tell you "no," you want daddy, but still.)  You love to sit in my lap, and when I don't realize that's what you want, you climb up and insert yourself in my lap -- usually with a book.  I can't tell you how many times I've been sitting at the computer, checking email, and you're suddenly there in my lap asking to do letters on Starfall.  It's that kind of persistence and determination that I think will get you far in life.  I just hope that at the end of the day, you still climb into my lap and read with me -- for a while, at least.

In the next few weeks, we will bring home your little sister, and I have no idea what you will think of her.  I am confident that, over time, you will come to love her just as you do your older brother, but I don't think you will instantly be the doting older siblings that Oliver was with you.  And that's fine.  You'll have lots to teach her in time, and she you.

I hope you know, more than anything, how much I love you.  I tell you so every night, and I'm pretty sure that some nights, you try to tell me back.  I so wanted to have a daughter, and you have been so much more than I could have hoped for.  And I cannot wait to see who you become.

With love and nostalgia, your adoring momma.

The caboose

Rode the train all by himself at Opry Mills and did great!

This Christmas

Grandma and Grandpa visited.  Grandma wore her 12 Day of Christmas sweatshirt
 and helped the kids make cookies.

We watched the Grinch...for the 20somethingt time.

The big gift for the kids was lots of (used from eBay) Duplo Legos -- Bob the Builder for Oliver,
trains for Emmeline, and more than 400 bricks for them to share.  

Aunt Laura sent some Play-Doh toys for the kids.
Oliver liked his truck -- with or without the Play-Doh.

Oliver loved his Lofty -- and the plastic fireman's helmet
that came with his kids' meal at Firehouse Subs.

Emme sat with her Play-Doh for nearly two hours -- though it did require
a new outfit when she was done.

The clean teeth club

Emmeline's first dentist appointment

Waiting for her

Mailing our I-600 application in December!

Most adoption blogs have a timeline link.  Since this isn't a public blog, I'm not going to give it a whole separate page, but I thought it would be helpful to see what it took to get her home.

3/29/2012 – Submitted application to Children of All Nations.  Contacted Jewish Family Service of Nashville and Middle Tennessee about home study.
4/3 – Application to adopt accepted by CAN.
4/6 – First home study meeting with JFS.
4/14 – Mailed in signed contract to CAN.
4/17 – Contract accepted.
5/23 – Liz’s interview with social worker for home study.
5/24 – Mailed in first mailer to CAN.
5/31 – First mailer accepted; began working second mailer.
7/11 – Wes’s interview with social worker for home study.
7/18 – Home visit with social worker for home study.
7/24 – Sent withdrawal letter to CAN.
8/3 – Picked up copies of finalized home study; mailed in I-600a to USCIS; emailed dossier documents for translation.
8/8 – Email confirmed receipt of USCIS application.
8/17 – Received biometrics appointment from USCIS for 9/6.
8/20 – Tried to do a walk-in for biometrics at Nashville ASC.  Failed.
9/6 – Biometrics appointment at USCIS.  Current processing times 60-75 days for I-600a approval.
9/20 – Heard about a two-week-old girl who is waiting.
9/24 – Another family in our group gets their I-600a approval one month after fingerprinting.  Hoping ours will come in the next two weeks.
9/28 – Two-week-old girl will not be placed for adoption.  Older twin boys and girls available, but decide to wait for a boy/girl referral.  Dossier is complete and translated; just waiting for I600a approval.
10/1 – Received I-171H.  Officially paper ready!
10/4 – Got a call about a 45-day-old baby girl and saw her face for the first time.  Waiting for medicals to officially accept our referral.
10/6 – Got an email about a boy/girl sibling set (2.5 and 10 months).  Waiting for medicals from both referrals and talking about which referral to accept.
10/10 – Got medicals for baby girl; malaria and low hemoglobin levels but HIV negative.  No medicals for sibling set.
10/14 – Talked to several pediatricians who have experience in Africa, then accept referral for the baby girl, Zola.  Signed attorney contract and shared the news with family.
10/15 – Got Power of Attorney notarized, completed FICHE to get PV and Commune approval, and wired first payment to attorney in the Congo.
10/19 – Mailed dossier to DRC attorney.
11/5 – Court hearing.
11/9 – Got a call that we had passed court, with judgment date of 11/5.  In CONA wait.
11/11 – Got email with PV, consent, and judgment (in French).  Officially decide to name her Zola Elizabeth Self.
11/13 – Wired second payment to attorney in the Congo.
11/27 – Got email with Act of Adoption and birth certificate (in French), along with translations of all court documents.  Passport has been applied for.
12/5 – CONA is up.
12/17 – Got email with CONA (in French and English).  Passport pictures taken, but passport office is on strike, so no actual passport yet.  Mail in I-600 to USCIS, with hopes of traveling in six weeks.
12/18 – Sent embassy paperwork to a friend to carry to DRC and deliver to attorney.  Zola had her passport picture taken (in the little lamb outfit we sent to her).  Got info on her and some pictures from another mom already traveling.
12/19 – Got a call from the US Embassy in the DRC, asking for my email address so they can send us instructions on next steps.
12/26 -- Got email with a scan of Zola's passport with errors; attorney was going back that day to get a corrected version.
12/27 -- Received I-797 in the mail that confirmed receipt of I-600 application.  Other adoptive families
1/7 -- Got email from USCIS officer saying that our I600 application was approved on 1/4.  Should receive hard copy of approval by the end of the week.
1/8 -- Called the US embassy in Kinshasa to schedule our embassy appointments.  Scheduled for 1/24 (drop-off) and 1/25 (interview).
1/9 -- Got an email from the embassy saying they are going to cancel our embassy dates because they cannot see our approval in their system.  Forwarded approval email from USCIS officer; embassy replies, saying their will wait for the hard copy of the letter, but otherwise will have to reschedule us.
1/11 -- Received I-797, provisional approval of our I600 application.  Scanned and emailed it to the embassy. Hope to hear back from them Monday with confirmation of our dates, at which point we can buy plane tickets!  
1/14 -- Called the US embassy in Kinshasa.  Still cannot see our approval but schedules us for appointment 1/24 and 1/28.  Told me to call back 1/25 to confirm that she can see approval before 1/28 interview date.
1/18 -- Called the US embassy in Kinshasa.  Can now see approval in system and gave us back our original dates of 1/24 and 1/25.  Later find out that Zola's embassy medical appointment was this day.
1/24 -- Embassy document drop-off.  Wired final payment to attorney.
1/25 -- Embassy interview.
1/31 -- Hear rumors that the US is going to add a 3-6 month waiting period between I600 approval and visa issuance.  No details of who will be affected.
2/1 -- Find out that people who already have embassy appointments scheduled (which includes us, since ours already happened) will not be affected by the new timeline.
2/5 -- Depart Nashville.  Travel to Brussels via O'Hare.
2/6 -- Travel from Brussels to Kinshasa and arrive at St. Anne's.