Matters of the Heart

The human heart is powerful.  I’m not talking about the muscle that pumps blood through our bodies, but rather the heart that is symbolic of spirit and soul, conscience and intuition, empathy and – most notably – love.  My heart marches to its own beat, literally, at times in complete defiance of adversity, logic, or even just mere common sense.   It leaps over barriers, peeps into futures, and perpetuates longing and hope.
   
Every waking moment (okay, with a couple exceptions!), I am filled with a sense of gratitude for what surrounds me and hope for what is to come.  The spirit of Melody is amongst us, from her stocking, which hangs righteously amidst eleven others, to images of her perched on my back in the Baby Kelty or asleep in her crib, adding to the musical cacophony of snores, snorts, whistles and peaceful breathing sounds of our sleeping children. 

Where are we at with this adoption?

Our home study is finished, and our dossier is now 95-percent apostilled and complete.  This week it will make its way to [Our Country] for translation, awaiting a couple remnant documents including our 2012 tax return forms, since we just missed the cut-off for acceptance of our 2011s.   In the first week of January, we head to the Department of Homeland Security for one more round of fingerprinting.  Once we receive our U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services approval on our Petition to Adopt an Orphan, I race to Olympia for one last apostille – and our dossier is complete!   From that point on, our future and the fate of this adoption is in the hands of the adoption and child welfare officials in [Our Country].  We pray that they deem us worthy of adopting a special needs child, and we wait for them to extend us a travel invitation, a process that takes about four weeks from completion of the dossier. 

We are humble people.  There is a chance we are not offered this invitation.  The country we have chosen is a difficult one to adopt from, and the rules shift and change often.   

Assuming, however, we are issued our travel invitation, we hop on a place about one week later for an initial month-long stay in the region which Melody’s orphanage is located, spending time with her daily and awaiting a court proceeding which ultimately will determine whether she can come home with us.  If the court rules in favor of our adoption,  we fly back home for ten days (a mandatory “wait period” during which biological family can object to the child’s pending adoption);  then Kelsea (my 22-year-old) and I return for another couple weeks to finish out visas, birth certificates, medical exams, etc., in country.  And – if each of the hundreds of variables falls into place exactly the way they must … and each unforeseen obstacle is resolved …. and  each  person who must be persuaded that Melody is worthy of a family and a life and a future is adequately convinced – we  carry her out of her orphanage, onto a train, across a continent and ocean by plane, to her new home, family and life. 

For now, Melody's spirit is embodied in the images of her here amongst us that I conjure up, her one photograph that appears on this blog, her sweet Christmas stocking nestled perfectly amongst the rest, and in the empty crib, high chair, and car seat which await her, our daughter.