To Russia with Apprehension

I don't watch TV. In fact, Tim and I don't even have cable. And I don't read the newspaper or visit cnn.com or any other news site. When Whitney Houston died, people on facebook told me. Jo Paterno would still be alive if I hadn't been facebook friends with Penn State fans. So anyway, to say I am not up to date on news is an understatement. Most of my news comes from what Tim tells me when we go running today and talk about anything to pass the time. So when I got an e-mail from our adoption agency saying:

We are aware of the recent news stories from Russia and the US press
stating that the Foreign Ministry has called for a suspension of international adoptions. There is a related story stating that some regions in Russia have unofficially stopped working on international adoptions.

I was suddenly a little concerned that I wasn't more of a news person. The first e-mail we got just freaked me out and didn't provide much information. The second e-mail we got also freaked me out but provided more information. Basically, here is what our adoption agency has found to be true, at the elementary level of my understanding.

In 2011 there was a "bilateral agreement" signed by Russia and the US that was meant to help facilitate international adoption of Russian children to the US. There is, I guess, legislation that is to be passed as a result of this agreement. However, for reasons unknown to me, it has yet to be passed. Russian elections are scheduled for March sometime and I suppose after that they are expecting that the new people in office will pass the necessary legislation pertaining to this document. It is my understanding that this is a positive thing for us and not a negative thing.

So, again, for reasons unknown to me, the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs has called for a temporary termination of adoptions between the two countries until the State Duma (big boss man) can pass the legislation pertaining to the document. However, it is my understanding that none of this will happen until after things have settled after the new elections. BUT, all hope is not lost because apparently, the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs does not actually have the authority to hault adoptions (go figure) and this authority only lies in the hands of the State Duma (big boss man) or Russian President (biggest boss man). Neither of them have called for any type of change to the current adoptions. BUT, is is possible that in unity with the ministry of foreign affairs, the regional courts may decide to participate in an unofficial suspension of adoptions to the US. I guess they can do this? Go figure.

So, we're not really sure where this leaves us for a number of reasons. First, we do not know if our region Vladivostok will choose to participate in an unofficial but apparently legal suspension. I am hesitant to check with our adoption agency about our specific region because we have so long to referral anyway. Which brings me to my next point: we are currently only 1 month in to our probable 6-9 month wait (which will actually become close to one year until everything is final), so with regards to legislation being passed or not passed or things being held or not held, we have a lot of time for that to happen. This, of course, freaks me out because I feel very vulnerable to anything that may happen.

Of course, my biggest fear is that we will not get our daughter. But I have no basis for this fear quite yet. But "assume the worst" can sometimes be my middle name. My second, and perhaps more reasonable fear, is that it will delay us getting our daughter. Or, the third option is, we will not be affected at all. Of course, we are hoping and praying for the latter.

They say international adoption is a tumultuous, emotional, and scary ride. They were not kidding. We have so much invested in this. My heart has already been given to our unknown daughter. As terrified as I am about what lies ahead, I am so emotionally invested in bringing this little girl home to us. She is already my child and my family and my heart will not be complete without her.

So we hang on for her and hope and pray that she will find her way to our home in a timely manner. And we hope and pray for all the other children who are waiting in orphanages in poor conditions to meet their forever families. We pray that the bureaucracy ruling over them will not delay their time until they are loved an included in a family.

Please join us in prayer not only for our adoption for for all others in process, that courts would not suspend adoptions and that things will continue normally prior to and through the elections next month.

The Curse of the Fat Face

Pregnancy is absurd. Ridiculous. Demoralizing. Admittedly, totally worth it, but absurd, ridiculous, and demoralizing nonetheless. First, I can do nothing cool. I couldn't join Tim for his business conference held at the indoor water park. Those water slides are a no, no for the pregnant woman. We can't go skiing on our anniversary (another no, no). Tim won't let me rent an ATV--too bumpy, he says. I can't go horsebackriding. Poor horse would die. Second, what I can do, others think I shouldn't. I go still run nearly every day. 3-5 miles. On the weekends I do my long run,-7 miles. "why don't you just take it easy?" my mom says. "Are you sure you can run all the way up to end?" Um, hello? Second pregnancy, here. Matthew was just fine. And I get looks from cars, and honks and comments, "is that a good idea?" Perhaps some of you wonder the same thing. And then third, to add insult to injury, there is the pregnancy itself. The complete exhaustion that makes me say to Tim, "sorry, we can't go to the 7:15 movie. We need an afternoon one." The nausea that made the surgery clerkship such a horrid experience. And then, finally, the weight gain. I mean, I haven't gained that much weight by pregnancy standards. But it's like suddenly, I'm a whale. Now, I understand the need to gain weight in pregnancy. But what I don't understand, really, is the need to gain weight in my thighs, my butt, my arms, my chest, and, mostly, my face. My face? Honestly?

So today I blog about the curse of the fat face because I know I am not alone. In fact, I have done research. I have seen all these pictures of friends on facebook who have had recently had a baby. Yes, they all suffer from the curse of the fat face. Is this really a necessary part of pregnancy? Is looking like my face has retained a gallon of water really life sustaining for my baby? I have a hard time believing that it is, but the percentage of pregnant women suffering from the curse of the fat face makes me think perhaps I'm missing something. I would like to provide you with some evidence. I wish I could post before and pregnant pictures of my friends, too, but that's probably a breach of ethics and some pregnant woman privacy code. Here is a wedding picture: taken approximately 2 weeks before little Matthew came to be:


Then here is a picture of the fat face, taken approximately 34-36 weeks later. Then, we can show the demise of the fat face. Here, Matthew was about 9 months old.

And, then, finally, we have the fat face again, at about 24 weeks pregnant with this one.
It's scary to think that right now I'm 31 weeks along and my face is even fatter. Probably. I haven't taken any recent pictures of myself for comparison. Perhaps I should. It's not just the face, either. I mean, study those pictures. Notice the conspicuous lack of a collar bone in the pregnancy pictures. And the distinct increase in upper arm and shoulder diameter in those same pictures. Again, I ask, is this a necessary part of pregnancy? The belly, now, I can understand. But the collar bone? The arms? And, of course, the FACE? Is this necessary?

Where is the complaint department? I would like to file one.

I ran into someone at school the other week, a secretary in the office. She saw me and knew I was pregnant even though my coat was zipped. The fat face probably gave it away. Anyway, she starts raving about being pregnant. How much she loved her two pregnancies. What a wonderful, "glowing" time it is. I just smiled and nodded. What drug did this woman take in her pregnancies, cause I want some. I know there are a few crazies out there who love the 9 month journey of having your body taken over by a tiny little person, but I am not one of them. The reward is great and that is the only reason I do it.

And so, in view of that reward, I waddle on with my thick arms and fat face, all the while dreaming of the time this summer when my body is my own and I once again can fit into that little, black dress.

Wait, I'm having a baby?!?

I'm having a baby. At least, that's what they tell me. Earlier last week, my midwife and I were chatting at my appointment and she asked me if I'd thought about what kind of birth I'd like to have in a mere 9 weeks. I just kind of stared at her. "The kind where he comes out, I guess" I replied. She knows I'm not serious, I have ideas and emotions and moral stances on childbirth. Yes, I'm one of those people. But really, those all apply to other people's births because I'm not having a baby. Or, am I?

Now, I understand fully that I am pregnant. Not a day goes by where I don't think about how I am pregnant: what I can and can't eat and drink (we went to the most elaborate company party for Tim's work in DC this past weekend, and I've never been so sad to be pregnant as when I saw that open bar (all 5 of them)), how much more difficult it is for me to run now and how running 8 minute miles is merely a dream and how my new 10 minute mile pace makes me feel like a fat whale, how it takes me 5 minutes to turn over in bed, and when I look at myself in the mirror and call out, "where did my collar bone go? Why is my face so fat?" Plus, the every present movements of my little guy which make me smile and laugh and sometimes keep me awake. Oh yes, I know I'm pregnant. But having a baby? Let's not get carried away, people.

Because, you see, Tim and I are adopting a child. We can't possibly also be having a baby. We think and talk all the time about how our adopted daughter will come, when she will come, and what going to Russia will be like. Tim is such a planner, and I swear he has our entire trip mapped out. He must visit the site gotorussia.com regularly. The other day he informed me that the hotel we are staying in has high speed internet for when we need to talk with Dr. in the states about our referral. Good to know, since going to Russia is probably 7 or 8 months away. Over Christmas Tim was asked if he was taking time off for the holidays. "No," he replied, "I'm trying to save my vacation time for the adoption." "Oh, are you taking time off in March?" she asked, to which Tim replied, "What's happening in March?" My sister later relayed this story to me as if I'd be shocked and abhorred that my husband had forgotten about the birth of our second child. I was only shocked that when she mentioned March to me, I knew what was happening.

In our defense, I must say, it is hard not to be preoccupied with the adoption. Paper work out the wazoo and the ridiculous amount of money we have already seen leave our bank account (for which we have nothing to show, which is even the scarier part), and the million details like visas and medical school schedules and time off for Tim from work and trying to somehow do some fundraising so we can afford to feed our 3 children 2 years from now. This process is not for the faint of heart.

But in other ways, it just seems like it has made me totally forget our little guy. He is supposed to make his appearance in 9 weeks and he has no crib. Nor have I checked Craigslist recently for any new postings of "white crib." Last night I realized we need some kind of rocking chair or nursing chair in his room so I can feed him at 1 am (and 3 am and 6 am....) The only reason he has other furniture is because amazing quality free furniture was dropped off at our house in November. I had to do zero work to get it. But, I must also say, his sister also has furniture. Baby boy has no clothes, except what will be able to work from his big brother (they are off season. Darn!), and, most importantly, he has no name. His sister has a bed for when she is out of the crib (the white crib she will steal form her little brother when she comes home), and a few decorations for her room that I had my parents pick up for us in Russia last summer. The only reason she doesn't have clothes is because I have no idea what size she will be when we get her. Otherwise, every time I passed the girls clothes in the store, Tim would have to hold me back. And, most importantly, she has had a name for months that we use every time we talk of her.

Perhaps I should find a crib. And a chair. And get a few spring outfits that will fit. And maybe get a baby monitor and some bath toys that don't have mold growing inside them that gets shot out every time you squeeze the toy to make it shoot water. And maybe we should find a name. Maybe. But, like I said, let's not get carried away here, people.

I think some of this is normal for second time moms. After all, we already have a toddler we're chasing. I know Matthew, so I bought new bedding for him to give his current things to his brother. He says really funny things, so I tell stories about that on facebook instead of posting, "9 weeks to go!" I have noticed from my friends who have recently had second children that there is a conspicuous absence of belly pictures and countdowns during the second pregnancy. So maybe I can blame it all on that. And maybe it's cause he's a boy. No offense to my newest bundle, but baby boys are so 2009. I am not jumping to buy him clothes like I did for his big brother. And thus begins his long, long life of hand me downs (but boys don't care, right?). And when deciding whether I want to buy a crib bedding for him or his sister, it is really a no-brainer for me to save our crib bedding buying money for the day when I don't need to bypass polka dots and pastels.

But really all this has just left me feeling totally un-prepared for what happens 9 weeks from now. Not to mention I feel like the most unloving mother when I admit I have a preference for buying for the girl and not the boy. But mostly, having a baby seems too stressful to me. After all, I'm adopting a baby AND I'm pregnant. Can you believe that?

A very jungle adventure

After several requests, here is the wedding story you have all been waiting for.

So here we are, in the jungle. And let me just remind you that we're in South America in December, 8 degrees off the equator. So it's hot. Very hot. And humid. Very humid. So I'd say it's about...oh...92 degrees or so. Plus humidity. So, like I said, we're in South America. And in South America, nothing runs on time. So when we got there to the wedding at 6 (wedding invitation said 6) I wasn't even remotely surprised that there was hardly anyone there. No problem. But my mission until the wedding starts is to keep my toddler clean in his snazzy outfit and happy. In the jungle. In the rainy season. We were doing good for about 5 minutes until Matthew saw the horse David was going to ride in on for the wedding. Matthew LOVES animals. So I asked David if Matthew could pet the horse. It was then that we found out the horse was in heat. No, I don't think it's ok for my 2 year old to pet a horse in heat. So Matthew starts to scream, "My horsey, my horsey." Oh no. Give him the pacifier (something that is reserved for bed), we're desperate now.
The pastor showed up at about 6:45 and shortly after that, we were ready to start. Oh, wait. Someone forgot to bring the flowers for the flower girls. She has to drive home and get them. Meanwhile I'm chasing Matthew around and I felt like every other word out of my mouth was "no." I hate that. He's so upset and now he wants to hold the ring bearer pillow. So I give it to him. Yes, he's 2. He carries it around, so proud. At one point one of the ring falls off and Nana double knots it back on.

So now it's...maybe...7:20 or so? And we're ready to start! Line up in the back (in the mud. My heels were sinking in...and by this time Matthew has already fallen several times and gotten his white knee high socks dirty.) One of the flower girls says to me, "can I see the rings?" I hand her the pillow. "There's only one?" "No, there's two." "No, there's one." (I examine the pillow). A million curse words go through my head. There is only one ring. Stop the wedding. Biggest parenting blunder EVER. Who gives their two year old the pillow to play with before the wedding? Apparently me. I shed many tears, but luckily not till after the wedding. We lost a wedding ring. Whose ring did we lose? We think it's Daniela's. I'm praying out of my mind as we search in the mud, under the chairs, up on the tile dance floor. No. A million people are searching for the rings. But it's dark, and if someone stepped on the ring in the mud, it's not going to be found. People are using camera lights, cell phone lights.

Nothing. I go and find Daniela, and in my broken Spanish, I tell her. She is a rock star and handled the drama remarkably well. But the show must go on, and David was not deterred from marrying his beautiful bride. So we hook up Nana's wedding ring to the pillow and start the show at 7:45.

David rides in. On the horse. In heat. Needless to say, the horse was not thrilled with it's job or David. David hurried off the horse. (are you laughing yet? This story is unbelievable).


So things start after the horse in heat. Matthew did a great job walking down the aisle.
Daniela was stunning (Latinas probably look the very best of any race in a white dress). The vows were beautiful and Daniela (who doesn't really speak English) had written her own vows in perfect English (with much help, I'm sure) and clearly had practiced them religiously. It was not simple English, either. I cried. No surprise. I don't think I was the only one.

And then, in the most unbelievable moment of the entire night, a mango fell from a tree and landed on Daniela. It didn't hit her head (luckily) but landed on and stained her beautiful white dress. She kept right on going. Have I mentioned she was a rock star? And then it came time to hand the rings. It was at this moment that David noticed we hadn't lost Daniela's ring, but his own. Both of the rings on the pillow were women's rings. So he had to ask the translator to "borrow" his wedding ring. At this point, full laughter ensued.

The wedding finished, and they were married and thrilled and beautiful. I stood up and soon realized I was being attacked by some bug or something. My feet burned and the burning got worse, and worse, and worse. I was nearly screaming, and I assumed I was being attacked by fire ants. I never did figure it out, but I had to change shoes and put loads of bug spray on my feet to stop the insane pain.

The reception was crazy. We're not sure how much was a cultural difference and how much was just the insanity of the night. David told us that he wasn't too happy with the caterer of the wedding, so it clearly wasn't all cultural differences. There was so much running and dancing and laughing and happiness on the part of my 2 year old. And it's 90 degrees. And there is no water. All they served at the reception was soda. So Tim and I gave Matthew all the water we brought. Tim drank the soda, but it made me sick. First, they passed out the chicken (which was, I will say, excellent). In Peru you're getting chicken on a bone. We received no knives. Only a fork. After we were all finished, we received napkins. Unreal. And when it was time for the cake, they cut the cake and slapped a piece on your hand. No napkins. No plates. No fork. Hysterical. I wasn't mad. It was just so funny. The whole night was so funny. And then all the Peruvian mothers and grandmothers were chasing my 2 year old around trying to give him cake. What on earth? It was so strange. They paid him no mind except to try to feed him cake. I tried to be so careful about what Matthew ate to avoid sickness (we were successful) and the missionaries I was with told me not to give Matthew the icing. So I thought avoiding the cake altogether was best. So I'm chasing the Peruvian women around who are trying to hand Matthew cake and repeatedly telling them, "no gracias." They must have thought I was the meanest mother.

And really, the entire night just started off funny. Tim and I were both in the wedding party as you can tell by the pictures. Tim and I were quite vibrant in our outfits. Needless to say, the gringos (us white folks) can't pull off the bright turquoise as well as the darker skinned latinos. Plus, I was standing by all these tiny little bridsemaids while pregnant. I felt like such a whale.


Matthew had a ball. He danced the whole night (and ate a few bugs off the floor) and even found a girl to chase. She played (very) hard to get.

I cannot state how great of an attitude the bride and groom had about the whole thing. I am a big fan of both of them and I am so glad we went to this very jungle adventure.

Matthew was still in good spirits when we got back to our jungle home at about midnight. First, a very gracious missionary let us use her hot water to take a shower. And even after all that fun, Matthew was still content. He was such a trooper through so many late nights and long flights. He's always been so flexible. I love my little buddy.
And the moral of the story is: if you think you've ever made a giant parenting blunder, I have to ask you, have you lost a wedding ring?

To Russia for waiting

Well, we got word today that our documents are being sent to Russia. They have assigned us a region of Russia to where they are sending our documents. We have been assigned the region of Vladivostok. This is one of the most common regions for families to be receive their referrals from, as they are currently processing very quickly. We have to rush to get a document filled out and signed for the Vladivostok region. It is my understanding that there are many orphanages in this region. I spoke with a family in the beginning of they process and they adopted three beautiful children from this region. They all had blonde hair, which is surprising to me considering the region is most definitely in Asia.

I am excited to get this news because now I know where our little girl will come from and also where we will be traveling to. I looked it up, and Vladivostok is in eastern Russia, near China, Korea, and Japan. This is a little sad to me because when we fly we have to 1st fly to Moscow to get some paperwork done in the capital....a little out of the way. It's like saying, "well, I have to fly to Rome first, just to fill out paperwork, and then I'll fly to Chicago to get the child." We met a flight attendant on our trip to Peru who was Russian and she said that if we fly through Alaska, it won't be too bad but that if we do indeed have to fly to Moscow, which I think we do, we're looking at about a 10 hour flight to get from the states to Moscow and then another 10 hour flight to get to the region where we need to go. Oh, and we're planning on bringing both boys with us. Awesome. And, the average temperature in January is about 8 degrees. I think in August it's 69 degrees. So if we go any time from October through April (how can you not when you take two trips) we will freeze our tails off.



Never a dull adventure in our family, and this will be no different. I am still so excited to know where our little girl will be coming from. So now we fill out a few more forms, including our immigration forms for us and our daughter. And then we wait. They have told us the wait for a young girl (and we have stressed we will not accept a referral for a girl over 14 months due to the complexities of adopting older children) is 6-9 months, but sometimes is shorter. I think they are always so conservative when they give people times because it is so hard to predict. I am not going to start "counting" our months until mid January because of the Christmas holidays things move very slowly.

And so...for the next couple of weeks we hurry up. Then we wait.

In other news, I have been told that the details of the most craziest wedding ever need to be made public. When I have a moment (or ten) I will blog about Matthew's Peruvian adventure, Tim's really (really) bright turquoise shirt, getting attacked by fire ants, mangos falling on the bride, the worlds biggest parenting blunder that resulted in the loss of a wedding ring, and so much more.

Homestudy Complete...

Well, I might be having my first of many adoption freak outs. We received notice that our homestudy is complete. Finally. Since I haven't had time yet to chronicle you through our entire process, and I am admittedly updating you in the middle of it, I'll give a little explanation.
Basically, the homestudy is the all necessary check that needs to be done on our home and our family to make sure that we are fit to bring in and raise our daughter. It was a lot of what you'd expect: a fire inspection, discussion with a social worker on our families, our backgrounds, our religious beliefs, our beliefs on discipline, how we met, why we are adopting, what type of child we want to adopt, child abuse clearances from both Ohio and Georgia (apparently Georgia does not have a child abuse registry, don't you feel safe now, down there in the ATL?), FBI fingerprints, our financial income, and yearly budget. And then there was some of what you wouldn't really expect, but kind of makes sense: Chester's shot records, the school district we live in and all the schools our kids will attend, the distance to the closest fire department and hospital, medical examinations for us and Matthew, the confirmation that we do indeed have running water (Matthew got to flush every toilet in the house for the social worker. He was so excited.) And then a few things that you think, "really?" What day do we take out our trash? How close is it to the nearest playground? Never once did she open a single cabinet or drawer. We had three very gracious friends who wrote wonderful letters of reference for us. All in all, we met with our social worker 3 times, visited our local notary at least 3 times, and filled out a million forms. We began this process during my surgery rotation in August when I was just 9 or so weeks pregnant. They say it takes about 8 weeks to complete, which seems right in our case, even with my insane schedule.

And now.... the homestudy will be signed, certified, and apostilled (so many legal things are at play for documents involved with international adoption) and it will be approved by the agency that works directly with Russia and our adoption agency.

So, what's next? Russia closes down for Christmas from December 15-January 15 (they have adopted the college schedule apparently) and the next step in the process for us is submitting our dossier documents. These are the set of documents that go to Russia and that put us in line to get a child. Once we submit our dossier document we will wait 6-9 months (or more or less, we never know....) for them to call us and tell us they have a little girl for us. At this point, we will still be months away from bringing her home if we indeed choose to adopt her (we can turn down the referral based on medical issues or other issues we might find.) So, Tim and I have decided that we want to submit our dossier to Russia before they close down in December. This means that our documents have to go to the agency that works directly as the liaison between our adoption agency and Russia by the end of November. That agency will then get all documents to Russia before they close for the holidays. This means that Tim and I will be very busy in the next couple of weeks trying to get all our ducks in a row. We are hoping we can make it before the deadline so that we don't have to wait until January to send things to Russia. We are both terrified and excited that we are at this new step. I will document more about the dossier process later on.

Please keep us in your prayers if you think about it, that everything would fall in place so that we can get the dossier submitted before the end of this month. We are not the only people who have to do things in a timely manner for this to happen, and with Thanksgiving fast approaching, lots of offices will be closed.

Trick Or Treat...and....

Matthew had his second experience trick or treating on Monday night. He LOVED it. He ran from house to house for an hour and a half, visiting houses the whole time. We filled up his little pumpkin with candy. I thought he would be dying to eat some when we got home (he kept asking the whole time we were out) but his Aunt Abby gave him a dump truck for his birthday (of course it makes noise) and he was so obsessed with that when we got home he forgot all about his candy. He still hasn't had a piece yet. Fear not: it will be eaten. Mostly by us. But he had so much fun trick or treating, I think the experience was enough for him. We went with his friend Cooper. Cooper was a little slower than Matthew (though he carried his own pumpkin the entire way) so Matthew kept running ahead and then running back and yelling "Cooper, Come on!" Matthew also invited himself into several houses to pet their dog. He would run in, pet the dog, give the dog a a hug, and run out, closing the door behind him and yelling, "Bye bye! See ya!" What a hoot. Below are some pictures of our little monkey.

In other news, we caved at the ultrasound and decided to find out the gender of baby Larson #2. We decided that if it was a girl (in my mind, highly doubtful. My pregnancy with Matthew was nearly identical to this one, and so from the beginning I was convinced it was another boy) we would adopt a boy from Russia instead of a girl. This is mostly because we could get a boy several months younger than a girl. So we found out at the last minute in order to be able to make a more rational decision about the gender of our adopted child.


All credits for the pumpkin go to my former roommate, Marni. I am totally not that creative!