How We Got Here

A year ago, my friend, Stefani Ellison, turned my world on its ear when she told me that China was soon opening their adoptions to single parents again.  She even had the file of the boy that she thought would be perfect for our family.  Oh, he was a cute little guy, and I fell in love with him.  Obstacles that I thought would make another adoption impossible became non-issues.  I was on board.  Ready to go.  Then, days before China made the official announcement so I could begin the paperwork, another family began the process to adopt this same little boy.  MY little boy.

I told Stefani I was done; I didn't want just any old boy; I wanted that boy.  She didn't listen, a fact for which I'll always be grateful.  She sent me four more files. 

I halfheartedly glanced through them, and, what do you know, looking out at me from the snapshots was the face of my son, Zhang Chuan Yi, born October 26, 2007.

I dived into the paper chase to bring him home.  It's a process best suited to people who are far more left-brained, have a longer attention span and more patience for bureaucrazy (That was a typo, but it's way too accurate to take out.) than I.  Don't get me wrong.  I understand that the multitudinous steps in this process are ultimately to keep kids safe and get them placed in suitable homes, and I am grateful for that.  I appreciate that chaos would reign and kids would suffer if this process were not in place.  However, it's still at times reduced me to a state of wild-eyed hysterical giggling or left me ready to hurl large objects around the room/through windows.

Here's an example of what completely addled my poor right brain:  A couple of months into the process, I had to send in a completed form to a government entity.  In looking at two different sets of instructions from two different sources, I found that one said I was *only* to use black ink in filling out said form.  The other was just as adamant about using blue ink.  I called the 1-800 "help line."  Had a lively conversation about ink colors; talked to two different "helpers" and their supervisors.  No one could agree on ink colors, but they did agree that if I didn't do it correctly, it would be sent back for me to redo.  Got off the phone and spent an hour or so huddled in the corner humming, giggling and biting my fingernails.

Ultimately, what made the paperwork process doable and well worth every application and form and phone call was the fact that it wasn't about ink colors; it was about a little boy who needs a family, a little boy who looks entirely too sad in every single picture that I have of him.

If you're thinking of adopting internationally, and it sounds too daunting, trust me, if I can do it, you can too.  Oh, yes you can.  I'll even help you.  Just don't ask me what color of ink to use.

We're on the last stretch now.  We--Mom, my girls and I-- leave Las Vegas bound for Guangzhou, China on Friday, March 23 to bring home my son, Asa David Chuanyi Davis.  Asa, you'll soon have a mom, two wildly-excited older sisters and two grandparents who can't wait to love you.  See you soon!