Prayer

I will admit something here that I've barely admitted to myself.  I had given up on getting Tanya home.  I hadn't really told myself this and had generally avoided the topic.  I'm sleeping downstairs on my futon (yes partly because it costs a fortune to heat my second floor) to avoid the second floor of my house - where Tanya's room sits ready.  My niece and nephews slept in my newly bedroomized basement this past Christmas partly so that no one would be in Tanya's room.  Even when I had to go upstairs, her door stayed shut and I looked the other way.  I'm pretty good at avoiding problems.... clearly.

And then a simple request changed things.  My parents asked to borrow a space heater.  The only space heater in my house is the one I bought two years ago when I still worked at Sears (got a great deal...) for Tanya's room because my upstairs doesn't get very warm.  It was still new in the box in the corner of her room.  So I had to go upstairs.  I had to open her door, looking at her adorable name pillow as I turned the doorknob.  Her clothes peeked out from the closet, her books just sat on her nightstand, and her little elephant and blanket that were supposed to be her airplane comforts rested on her dresser.  I tried not to linger, but I couldn't help it.  As much as the hole in my stomach was growing, I could not help but to touch her jumpers and pick up her little shoes.  I fixed the blankets on her bed and put away a few pieces of clothing that were still sitting on top of her dresser.  And then I cried.  I cried so much I couldn't breathe.  But I had places to be, so I picked up the heater, put it in the car, and headed to the parent's house.  The entire drive was a fight to not completely lose it.  "Get it together," I kept saying to myself, and then I'd break again.  By the time I walked up to the door, I'd gathered myself.  When asked about the box, I simply replied that yes, the heater was new.  And then a beautiful niece and nephew arrived with cries of, "Aunt Jennie!" and a joy that was great enough to push my shadows to the side.

Realizing that I'd given up was a terrible awakening for me.  Luckily, I've had two amazing kids to keep me distracted this weekend.  And then I went to church this morning.  Blessed thing, my church is.  Prayer was the topic of the sermon, and as my pastor talked about his amazing answer to his recent prayer, a little piece of hope and God and prayer and miracles started to form in my mind.  That even though things are so very bleak (read any of the news about Russia lately?), that does not stop the possibility of a miracle.  We need a miracle at this point, I know.  A miracle is the only thing that could bring Tanya home.  And I know that not everyone gets their miracles - I've prayed for them before and seen God answer, "No."  But that doesn't mean I should stop praying - that we should stop praying for a miracle.  As we took an extended time to pray this morning, different miracle scenarios started to play in my head.  So if it is God's will (the tricky part), I believe that a miracle can happen.  We should all believe that a miracle can happen.

Here's where I ask for your help, once again.  I know a lot of you read and support me here, but we're a community of lurkers.... So I ask for you to pray for a miracle with me.  Would you do that?  If you're willing to join with me in praying for the miracle of getting Tanya home somehow, please comment below.  I still hope to share this blog with her someday, and I'd love to show her all the people who helped to get her miracle.  Please join me in praying that somehow God will bring Tanya home.

Matthew 7:7  "Ask, and it will be given to you seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you."

Matthew 21:22  "And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith.”

Her 7th

Today is Tanya's birthday, one I'd never imagined she'd have in a Russian orphanage.  I don't have anything left to say about how hard it is to live without her or how difficult it is to have the days, months, and now years tick by with no progress - or any hope of progress.

So happy birthday, sweet sweet girl.  We will continue loving and missing you.  We will continue praying for you.  And we will never stop fighting for you.

Carrying the Weight

I know I haven't been on here, but it's really because nothing new has happened.  The Russians have been clear - they have a law that makes US adoptions illegal, and they have no intentions of making exceptions or changing the law.  We continue to pray for changes in hearts and minds.

Given this, I have struggled with how to cope with having no timeline, almost no hope, no light at the end of the tunnel.  What I'm trying to say is that this has been hard.  Really really hard.

When people ask me if I have children, how do I answer?

I feel such a constant sense of guilt that it is hard to bear at times.  I should have pushed my home study agency to finish things more quickly.  I should have pushed my adoption agency to give me more information about requirements sooner.  I should have started the whole process as soon as I saw her picture.  I should have...

Sometimes I can't breathe.  I can't sleep.  I can't think.  I can't be.  I don't know how to do this.

Her room sits empty.  Clothes hang in her closet, an adorable name pillow hangs from her doorknob.  But I cannot go in.  I find myself ignoring the very existence of the space.  As if somehow then this giant gaping hole just won't exist.  It won't be.

And there she sits.  Destined for who knows what if they don't change the law.  The hard fact is that she is sick and may not be getting any treatment.  Her disease is one that can be managed quite well with the right medications, but without treatment, she will die.  She might die before I ever have the chance to get her home.  It sounds extreme, but it is true.  I can't save my own daughter.  I can't even let her know that she has a family who loves her and is waiting for her.

And this last part is selfish, and I'm angry at myself for feeling it.  But I thought I finally had a purpose, I'd finally have a reason to be.  I feel like as I lose her, I lose myself.  I don't know what else to do.  I don't know who else to ask, who else to beg, who else to plead my case.  The State Department can't help, the Russians don't want to help.  Even some of the less scrupulous options aren't really options.  I've thought of moving to Russia (it takes five years to become a citizen), paying people for illegal transfers (I don't have that much money - and what kind of life is that?), other ideas... they're all dead ends.  And I feel dead.  I feel like I'm grieving for a lost child - like she's gone.  But she isn't.  There she sits, just waiting for a future that may never be.

And it's hard to just sit around and carry all that on my shoulders.  So when people ask me how she is, how it's going, I don't have an answer.  I pretend to be happy that I'm childless and carefree.  I'm just carrying it.

Silver Linings

You know how I've been lamenting not being farther in the process?  Not being one of those 'pipeline' families that the U. S. State Department is working so hard to push through?

We found out today that the Russian government is claiming that in 99 of those 200 or so cases the children have now been either returned to their birth parents, adopted by a Russian family, or placed with family members.  Now I would normally take all of this with a very large grain of salt, but it has been corroborated by locals in Russia and local newspapers there that certain children have recently been adopted (most certainly related to the fact that Russia just raised their adoption aid by seven times).  While I am so happy that these children have families, I do worry that families may have taken them in for the money and not to care for them as their own.  And there is also that extra stab that the country pushed their adoptions to ensure that the American families who loved them would not have a chance to adopt them.  Because yes, somehow I would be happy if Tanya found a good family all the way in Russia, but I just don't believe that is what is happening the majority of the time.

The other positive part of Russia pushing adoptions again is that they have updated their orphan databank, and we get a new picture of my baby.  She is growing so fast, and looks anything but happy in this picture, but I'll take it.  So here she is, bangs all grown out, hair a little lighter, looking so very grown up.

Don't get me wrong.  Things are bleak, and that is putting it lightly.  The Russians are standing solid on the fact that they will not make any effort to put though any American adoptions.  The law is the law, they said, and they will not try to break the law.  They do not want to break the law.  Or change the law.  For now, things will not change.

And so I'll choose to be hopeful and happy for what I can get.  Hopeful that after some time (yes, it will be quite some time) and much negotiating, my Tanya will come home.  And in the meantime, we'll keep looking for those silver linings.

"Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer."

Romans 12:12  

Missing Her

How do you miss someone you've never met?

How do you love someone so much it feels like your heart will come right out of your chest, even if you've never been on the same continent?

How do you figure out how to keep living life in this holding pattern?

I miss my baby.  I miss my little girl.  I miss her so much I feel like I can't breathe sometimes.  And it comes up suddenly sometimes - just walking past the Easter decorations and remembering that you planned on dying eggs with her.  Sometimes it comes slowly, like a dark smoke invading every part of my soul, grabbing onto every hope and good feeling and spiraling me into a weekend where I never get out of bed.  I dream about her.  All the time.  They're almost always anxiety-riddled dreams where I lose her hand or run through a tunnel and can't catch up to her.  I hug and cry with a little girl until I push her scarf back to find it's not her.  It's not my baby.  I still can't find her.  Every now and then I get to have a good dream.  A dream where she's home and playing and swimming and laughing and loving her family.  I wake up and expect to hear her calling for me, wanting pancakes or waffles with her grandpa.  And then I remember, and it all comes rushing back.  And my heart hurts.  All the time.  And I cry - a lot.  For those of you who know me, I'm not generally a cryer.  But I don't know what else to do.  I can't fight an entire government.  I can't make people change their minds or care more about children than politics.  I can't change the facts.  I don't know what else to do at this point.  And time keeps on ticking.  Time we don't have.  Adoption paperwork and approvals are only good for so long.  Fees paid are only valid for so long.  Although I'd gladly pay it all again ten times over if I could only have her home.  Here, with me.  Where she belongs.

I have to find a new job, so this complicates things even more.  Can I move?  Only temporarily.  You see, my home study and adoption are all approved for my current address.  And my family is here - I don't want to live anywhere else with her.  So moving feels like giving up.  And I'm not giving up.  Ever.

So I'll just keep existing and missing her.  I don't know what else to do.


Some facts for those of you who have asked:
Around 46 families have had their court date and were only waiting to pick up their children.
Around 219 families had official referrals, many of whom had already visited their children.
It is unknown how many families are in my unique circumstance, but we did hear from one on a conference call.

On turning 6

This day is not what I expected it to be, but I suppose few are.  A few short months ago, I thought I would have met you by now, would have been able to tell you our story, hug you, hold you.  Instead, here we are, separated by what sometimes seems like an eternal abyss.  The government of your country has taken a hard stand and will most likely not change anything for quite some time.  You will remain in your institution for the foreseeable future, no idea that there is an entire family here just waiting to love you and take care of you.  We pray for you to feel our love, to feel God's love every day.  We hope that you have not lost hope to find your forever family.  We are here.  We are waiting.  We are fighting.  We love you more than you could imagine.

And so you are having another birthday in your orphan home.  Once again, I wonder if anyone is celebrating with you, if you even know it's your birthday.  I want you here to give you your presents, let you pick out your birthday dinner, choose your cake, and blow out your candles.  I want you here to tell you how special you are.  I want you here to tell you how much I love you, to tell you about your family, to make you a part of our family, your forever family.  I just want you here.

But instead, I will wait.  Like many others, we just wait.  We sit on conference calls with the State Department that become increasingly pessimistic.   We follow press conferences in a nation on the other side of the world.  We listen for talk of amendments to this bill, and feel our hearts drop every time they are not passed.  We wait for this cloud to pass and pray that it will pass.  We wait and we pray.

So until I can finally see you again, I will wish you a happy 6th birthday from here.  Where your room sits waiting and ready, where we all pray every day for you and those around you.  I love you, kiddo.  Even from afar.

What can you do?

This is one concrete thing you can do to help us get Tanya home.  So if you're so moved, please contact your representatives.

Members of Congress have a short window of opportunity to sign on to two letters regarding Russia’s recent decision to ban adoptions to the United States. The first letter is to President Vladimir Putin of Russia and the second is to President Obama. Both letters appeal to each leader to recognize the basic human rights of these children and all children in Russia to a family and to work to resolve both the pending cases of children who were in the adoption process prior to the January 1, 2013 ban. 

Senator Roy Blunt and Congressional Coalition on Adoption Co-Chairs Senator Landrieu, Senator Inhofe, Representative Bachmann and Representative Karen Bass are currently circulating these letters for signature by their colleagues, with a deadline to sign on to these letters of tomorrow, Wednesday, January 16 at 12pm EST. Please contact your Senators and Representative today and urge them to sign on to these letters and lend their support to Russia’s children. Offices interested in signing on should contact Libby Whitbeck in Senator Landrieu’s office or Kristina Weger in Senator Blunt’s office.

- You can find your Senators’ phone numbers and email address at www.senate.gov

- You can find your Representatives’ phone numbers and email address at www.house.gov

Please distribute this information widely to your friend and family, requesting they also contact their Members of Congress prior to Wednesday, January 16 at 12pm EST

Our Thanks to Senator Roy Blunt and Congressional Coalition on Adoption Co-Chairs Senator Landrieu, Senator Inhofe, Representative Bachmann and Representative Karen Bass and the Congressional Coalition on Adoption Institute for their continued leadership on this issue.