The Crab Chronicles

Look At My Beautiful Family

When I was a kid and walking down the street in either Augusta or Knoxville with my dad, it was always tedious. We couldn't go anywhere quickly. People Dad knew would stop him and want to chat. He was so well known, from the bank where he worked, or Kiwanis or the board of this or that organization, that he knew most of the other businesspeople in town.

I quickly learned that if he called a man "Chief" or a woman "Honey or Darling" that meant he couldn't remember their name.

My friend Cindy LaJoy lives in rural Colorado, and has three adopted Asian boys and two caucasian girls. I only say it that way because they get stared at a lot, out there, and it's gotten really uncomfortable for her at times. She posted about it on Facebook. I wished I could comfort her in some way, but of course I can't change public curiosity or opinions.

But at least I know what it's like to be stared at.

I also know how I felt sometimes with my dad. My father was a tall, handsome man. He was always well dressed. Next to him, I felt like the fat, ugly little girl, many times.  Sometimes people would look at dad, then me, clearly puzzled that such a handsome man produced a lumpish kid like me, but they could see the curly brown hair and high foreheads and know right away we were biologically connected.

So I know a little tiny bit of how Cindy feels, with her kids. A tiny bit.

To me, after reading her blog for so many years, and emailing, and Skyping, I feel like Cindy and her kids are family. One of my daydreams is to take a trip out west, one day, with Michael, to see the LaJoys, and see that part of America.

I wonder if people in Colorado will stare at me and Michael?! He is clearly part Kazakh. I am clearly not. He is missing his right hand. I am not.

I have a friend who adopted a limb difference child from China a few years ago. My friend, Jim, lost one of his lower legs as a result of an accident, so he wears a prosthetic leg. One day at an outdoor cafe in China, a group of Asian ladies stared at Jim and his little 5 year old son so long, Jim finally got mad and went over to them, whipped off his prosthetic and put it on the table right next to them. "Yeah, I am missing my leg, and son is missing his arm. SO WHAT?! Don't you know it's RUDE to stare?" He berated them for a minute, grabbed his leg, put it back on, and walked away. They likely didn't speak English but his body language and tone spoke volumes.

In Asian culture, sad to say, kids with congenital limb differences almost always get put up for adoption. There are many little boy babies and toddlers with limb differences that are available. Some are so minor, maybe just a missing finger or a club foot. Those kids are all considered "special needs" which is so bizarre to me. (So... if you want to adopt a baby or toddler from China and don't feel like waiting around 3-5 years, look into special needs adoption. Much quicker process.)

I feel blessed that we live in a very diverse area. Michael's school isn't all white, by any means. In fact, you see just as many Hispanic and black kids, and some Asian kids, at his school.

Walking down the street in Atlanta, you are likely to encounter all races, and all types of families. There are 2 mommy and 2 daddy families. There are big families with many kids, and little ones, like mine.

In the law firm where I work, all three lawyers are married to a lady of a different ethnic background, and they all have children.

I wish Cindy could march up to the people who stare and say "Thank you for taking the time to contemplate my family. Aren't my children BEAUTIFUL?! They all came to me through the miracle of adoption, and I am so blessed to be their REAL mom. I hope you will spread the word that families come in all different sizes and races nowadays. Thanks and God Bless."

Then again, wouldn't it be nice if she never felt like she had to explain her family to anyone??

The two kids in the middle are Angela [Cindy's child now] and Michael, at their orphanage in about 2006.

Thinking About Adoption and Teens

I was so delighted to hear that adoptions have opened up again for Kazakhstan and Krgystan. The sad thing is that Kazakhstan is not allowing single moms to adopt right now. Really ticks me off.

In that country, as in so many others, single motherhood is viewed with great suspicion. In case you don't know anything about adoption, in Michael's adoption I had to prove that I was financially stable, get tested for TB and AIDS and every other STD [several times, because they had to be recent tests and there were delays], produce documents proving I was mentally sound, and swear I wasn't gay. I can't recall exactly the requirements when I adopted Alesia because it was 8 years ago, but they were pretty similar to Kazakhstan. Now, requirements for adoptive parents are actually more stringent.

I read somewhere that there are more than 700,000 orphans in Russia. Many of those children are not adoptable, for various reasons. I met several kids when I was adopting Michael that I inquired about advocating for, and I was told they had siblings and would have to be adopted with the older siblings, according to the laws of Kazakhstan. So they never get adopted.

Most people who are interested in adoption want a baby. They won't even consider a child older than a toddler. They certainly don't want an older child with older siblings. It's heartbreaking.

I understand the reluctance to adopt older kids, though. I truly do understand.

My hope is that people who read this blog won't take away a negative view of older child adoption because of what has happened with my daughter. Yes, she dropped out of school and is living with an older man in an unhealthy relationship. I am not happy about it. I cry and pray, and cry some more, all the time. I try not to dwell on the mistakes I made. I try to remember that many kids raised from birth in loving homes rebel and go wild once they turn 18 and can get away from Mom and Dad. It's not uncommon. It is SO hard, though, as a parent.

I don't know how to react to people who say to me "Well, you didn't get her until she was 13. All the damage was done." That implies that my adopting her made no difference in her life, which I know isn't true. It also unnerves me to think those people view me as some sort of naive nitwit.

If you had asked me two years ago, I would've told you I had a beautiful, sweet daughter. We had normal teenage issues, but she was a good girl.

I still think she's a good girl, with a good heart. The difference is that now she has let herself be coerced into doing a lot of unhealthy things, by people I never would've approved of. She also lies to me all the time. She texted me yesterday and said she was "fine."

To me, "fine" means in school and/or working, being healthy, not using illegal substances, not hanging out with unsavory people. To her, it probably means she has a place to sleep and food, and she doesn't have to work. How she is living, I don't know, and I don't really want to know. She won't tell me the truth anyway, so why bother asking?

I couldn't wrap her up and refuse to let her go out in the world once she turned 18, though. I had to let her go. I had no choice.

Most teens at 15 or 16 go through a phase where they are trying out their own identities. Being patient during this time is hard on a parent. It's particularly hard if you don't have the strong bond and shared history you establish by raising a child from birth. I was always terrified that my daughter would turn to drugs and prostitution like so many of the girls from her orphanage.

After she left here and lived apart in the fall of 2010, she came home saying she wanted me to trust her, because she felt like I didn't. She had done several things over the years that made it difficult for me to trust her. When she was living here between November 2010 and June 2011, I made it a point to act like I trusted her. I didn't go in her room unless invited. I told her she could go out at night with friends I didn't know. I paid her for jobs done around the house. I let her use my car. I tried to give her some space, hoping it would engender good choices and good feelings. It didn't work.

I realized later that she had played me. Basically, for her, my house was a place to get some food and shower, and then she was going out to be with friends. She went to school for a while, and tried, but she had a whole other life, a secret life, that I didn't discover until after she had stopped living with me. I knew from her erratic behavior she was probably smoking pot. I knew she was smoking cigarettes. I just had no idea that those things were the tip of the iceberg. 

However, I want to reiterate: there are plenty of kids who are not adopted, who didn't suffer early childhood trauma, who behave the same way.

I actually had people in my general age group contact me privately and say "Dee, I went through a period of teenaged rebellion, too. I dropped out of school. I did a lot of stupid things. Eventually, I turned things around and I am fine now. Just wait. Be patient."

Ah, patience. Not my strong suit.

As any parent will tell you, though, patience is something that is thrust upon you, whether you want to learn it or not. If you are so hard-hearted as to not develop it, you shouldn't even be a parent.

With kids from relatively normal, stable homes, you usually see teens or young folks who learn their lessons. Eventually they realize their parents aren't total idiots.

I rebelled a little bit, but as a 14-16 year old, mostly. I stayed in school, then held down a job successfully, and was never arrested or anything like that. When I was 21 I was preoccupied with establishing a good credit rating, and having a decent career and falling in love.

My daughter has spent years dumping memories of abuse, and thinking of next week as the distant future. She lives in the moment, literally. She thinks she doesn't need to conform to the world. She can do exactly as she pleases. She hasn't learned otherwise, yet.

However, if I were to say her adoption was a mistake I would be lying. God told me quite clearly that she was my daughter. He helped me overcome many obstacles to bring her home. He never promised me that raising her would be easy, though.

I don't actually know anyone who has raised a teenager, biological or adopted, and said it was easy. But is it worth it? Yep.

My daughter is in God's hands, and that's how I sleep at night. Keep praying for her, though. Prayer is the best investment in the world.

Understanding Orphans

I was shocked a couple of years ago to read about Torry Hansen, the Tennessee mom who shipped her adopted 8 year old Russian son back to Russia. I felt like she should've served jail time for child endangerment. What an awful thing to do, to keep a child for five months and then just return him like an unwanted purchase.

Especially when she had so many resources at her disposal. Her agency would've helped if she'd reached out. She lived near Nashville and there are therapists there who could've helped. She expected a docile, grateful child, and she didn't do her homework about the effects of trauma and neglect on a child's brain.

However, this ABC News story irritates me mightily, because they went to one babyhouse and they were given a show.The kids had toys, the caretakers seemed, caring, etc. Michael said even in his orphanage [which was a pretty good one] the toys donated were always kept locked up. I saw them locked up and kept pristine. Sometimes the kids were given gifts and photographed with them, then the caretakers took the gifts away and they were never seen again. Alesia said that happened in her orphanage too.

Russia has more than 700,000 orphans.

This New York Times article from 2010 highlights the fact that the Russian orphanage bureaucracy is entrenched and many children never find good homes. It's much more realistic. They fail to highlight some important things, though. Russian alcoholism is the main reason there are so many orphans, I am convinced.

Here in America, there have been public service campaigns for years about the dangers of drinking alcohol while pregnant. Not so in Russia.I've read that 1 in 10 kids in Russian orphanage have some fetal alcohol effects.

This article Trying to Stay Sober in Russia, contains some harrowing and disturbing facts, but nothing that was news to me. Russians only recently classified beer as an alcoholic beverage.

Russians drink vodka daily, and it's a cultural norm to drink it at lunch, at breakfast, whenever.

"And Russians do drink – in public – at any time of the day. Men and women, young and old, buy tiny bottles of hard alcohol at kiosks on their way to work; women push baby carriages with one hand while holding a liter can of beer in the other, and teenagers sit in parks during the middle of the day, drinking vodka straight out of the bottle." [from Trying to Stay Sober in Russia]

When I went to actually pick up Michael from his orphanage, the director had a "tea" for me, at 5 p.m., that included brandy, vodka, and other alcoholic beverages. I hadn't had any sleep in more than a day [an 8 hour overnight flight and an 8 hour car trip for hell] and I dared not drink anything, lest I pass out. I wasn't drinking then anyway, as I'd given up even beer and wine, for Alesia's sake. [She got upset when she saw me drinking alcoholic drinks, which was not surprising given her background.]

I also had a Russian man in Kazakhstan who helped Antares Foundation tell me he didn't drink, but he would have some vodka every day at breakfast!

When Alesia was 10-13 years old, her last few years in the orphanage, she drank beer brought in by older kids, and smoked cigarettes. Michael drank beer and smoked, too, as young as 6 or 7 years old. He would pick up discarded cigarette butts from the street and smoke them. Nobody cared. He was sent alone to buy vodka for his birthmom, at night. She would spend all their money on vodka while he starved, which is not uncommon in Russia and Kazakhstan.

Michael was lucky to land in a relatively good orphanage, with caring caretakers. He had enough to eat, wam clothes, and some affection.He also only spent 2 years in an institution.

Alesia was in a terrible, corrupt orphanage in Russia for 6 years, and was often hungry and didn't have decent clothes. She was beaten up many times by older girls. That trauma, I know, is why she is living such a non-productive life now. Trauma damages kids' brains.

What Torry Hansen did was awful. I have no sympathy for her. However, Russians need to admit that their orphanages, especially the ones for kids ages 7-17, are usually awful, and they do a very poor job of helping kids live healthy lives.

Meanwhile, Russia makes it very difficult for foreigners to adopt. Parents now have to get eight different medical doctors to sign off on their physical and mental health. There are many payments to orphanages and corrupt officials. Adopting a child usually costs from $20-40,000.

The focus SHOULD be on helping parents understand the challenges of parenting a post-institutionalized child. Even children adopted as babies can have RAD [reactive attachment disorder] and other issues. It's tough, as a parent, to try and get yourself quickly up to speed so you can help a child.

Part of my grief over my daughter's current situation is regret that I wasn't able to help her more. I simply didn't know. Alesia's issues with abuse and molestation weren't revealed until I got her to a second therapist here - the first therapist tested her and said there had been no molestation. Her learning disability wasn't discovered until she had been here almost two years, and I had to pay for the testing and treatment myself because the school refused to believe there was a problem. Those challenges made parenting my daughter incredibly stressful, and didn't help her at all.

Overall, though, I think the 6 years spent in a Russia orphanage are the tragic reason why, when she turned 18, she started experimenting with drugs and ultimately chose to leave my home rather than comply with my rules.

This quote from an American expat living in Russia was chilling to me, but it explains so much about my daughter's first 13 years:

“I’ve never lived in a place where there’s no line between what’s right and what’s wrong,” Broncoma said. “There’s no conscience telling you you should or shouldn’t do this, where in other places where I lived there’s more of a cultural norm for what’s right and what’s wrong; there’s more of a subconscious feel of how far you can go and not go.” [from Trying to Stay Sober in Russia ]

So Russia really needs huge reforms of its orphanages and they need to educate their people about the dangers of alcoholism. I also resent the publicity that focuses on the failed adoptions and ignores the many, many folks who have successfully adopted from Russia and have great kids to show for it.

Blogs like my friend Stephanie's offer hope and inspiration, because she is very successfully parenting post-instiutionalized children, many of whom have FAS diagnoses.

I have hope for my daughter, that she will learn her tough life lessons and eventually lead a happy and productive life. Miracles happen every day. I know it for a fact.

Alesia in the orphanage in 2004, trying to learn English.

A Little Boy

Every once in a while I advocate for a child who needs a loving home. Of course, I have a heart for children in Russia or of Russian descent, like my kids. I “met” a lady on my Yahoo group for single moms who have adopted from Russia, and her story has spurred me to action.

Debi Roberts is a kindergarten teacher and a single mom to two little girls, in Texas. She is on a mission to add to her family a precious little 5 year old boy named Max, who was in the orphanage with her daughter Delaney. Max has medical issues, but he is a great kid.

Here is the story, in Debi’s own words:

“A year ago I traveled to Russia to adopt my daughter Delaney, age 4 then. I learned upon arriving home that she was very fragile. She had such horrendously enlarged tonsils and adenoids blocking her airways and was too sore to eat, couldn’t breathe, and was oxygen deprived. Death would have come way too early for this butterfly of mine. In the photos you can see how little and sick she was - dark eyes, so skinny (and in these pix she had gained 3 lbs!).  Her internal organs were beginning to shut down.

 

I brought her home, and a year later she is INCREDIBLY healthy and finally walking and talking in 3 languages!!!

 

While I was playing and visiting with my daughter at her baby house, I kept noticing a quiet little boy watching us with a small smile on his face. He was fascinated, and his innocence touched my heart. One day I passed him as he was clenching on to a railing. Without thinking, I brushed the knuckles of his sweet tiny hand….and his reaction to this physical touch??? It literally took his breath away, and he exhaled with an angelic smile on his face.

 

His soul knows he is “missing something” and his longing for love quietly hovers in his smiles. I held my eye contact, and being a teacher of early childhood for over 20 years, I could intuit his thoughts during those quick moments. He wants a family.

[Below, Max and Delaney in the orphanage]

A few days later, I asked the Director/Pediatrician if there were any children who were adoptable so I could advocate for them. I know that not all children living there are adoptable, and may be simply temporarily housed there. But guess who they brought in? Little Max, with his sweet smile and shy but curious look! I couldn’t believe it. The teachers began to help him show off his skills, and he lit up with the attention. I promised I would advocate for him and the other little boy (also very precious, energetic, and educated).

 

I’ve been home a year, and haven’t found a family to commit to fully seeing this adoption through, and I can’t seem to shake the dreams of his sweet smile and soft laugh. His disabilities dont rattle me, and I have proved I can easily parent a child like Max because I adopted his orphan-mate in 2010, and she is surpassing everything with such vigor and life that she amazes her doctors and specialists. Once, she and I got a standing ovation from the pediatric nurses after their mouths fell open upon seeing her progress in 6 mos. home!

Above, Debi and Delaney in the orphanage. Below, Delaney now.

 

Little Max needs HIS ovation now! Please STAND UP for him and commit to a pledge to bring him home to HIS family. He is honestly in danger of being removed, lost in the system, and placed in a cold environment of isolation. We HAVE to have him home before December ends. This is a serious plea for help as TIME IS OF ESSENCE in Max’s case. We have to urgently hurry to bring him home before it is too late.

Little Max is just getting older and older...and each month that passes he is in danger of being lost in the system. My agency, KIDS TO ADOPT, is begging me to get there on trip one to sign the papers.  I have taken on a second job, part time...and have been approached to do some more part time work.  I will do ANYTHING to hurry this. I am so scared I will lose him. 

I am working two jobs but I cannot do fundraisers that involve me spending money to make money. I will apply for grants. The problem here is so many grants only give to couples. I think this is HIGHLY prejudicial. (My boyfriend died of a heart attack several years ago.)

My agency set up a paypal account today on a "chip in" page for Max. All contributions are tax deductible, and I don’t ever touch the money.  They pay my adoption expense for me. You can read about him on the website.

Little Max has a page where you can contribute. Please pass this along to anyone you know who could help.

The World's Best Salad

Every once in a great while, something really nice happens to me, and I wanted to share it with all y'all. Last year I wrote a blog for a website called Adoption Under One Roof and, much to my shock, I recently learned it was one of their Top Ten Blogs in 2011. The blog featured my mother's famous salad recipe, which is truly an amazingly good salad, and very versatile. Most folks like it. [my guest blogs for the site mostly focused on food. Adoptive families have to eat too..]

I reprinted the recipe below.

Elva’s Fabulous Salad

2-4 cloves fresh garlic

2 small heads of Boston lettuce

Juice of one lime or enough to make a tart dressing.Taste and add more if needed.

1/2 tsp salt

1-2 cups fresh mushrooms, washed and sliced.

½ cup Olive oil

½ cup good feta cheese, crumbled

Chop the garlic cloves fine, or use a garlic press. In a glass dish, place the mashed garlic; sprinkle with salt; mash the salt into the garlic using a fork or back of a spoon. (This releases the good flavor). Add the olive oil and lime juice. Beat with a fork or whisk. Add sliced mushrooms. Put it aside for an hour or so if you have time. Don't chill it. Meantime, wash the lettuce and put it in the fridge, or spin it and refrigerate it.

When you are almost ready to eat, tear the lettuce into bite size pieces, add the lettuce leaves and the mushrooms to the dressing. Toss everything well, from the bottom. Sprinkle the feta over the top. Don’t put any other dressing on it.

OPTIONAL: Can add : sliced scallions or cherry tomatoes.

Russian Christmas Dinner

The big event yesterday was my annual Russian Christmas potluck dinner.* This year we weren't able to have it on the actual date [January 7th] but we had it this weekend. Unfortunately, I didn't realize when I was planning it that this was a holiday weekend, so our turnout was lighter than normal, but so be it.

We had some new faces and I think everyone had a good time. My church, St. Bede's, is fairly small, but it worked well for the group, I think.

I made a big pot of borscht and took some sliced strawberries and dip, and a bag of oreos. Two families brought chicken nuggets and they were scarfed up quickly. There were salads, cakes, a great variety.

Below are some photos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don't identify everyone, just for privacy reasons, but I want to give a shout out to the two lovely ladies above, Michael's friend Katya and her mother Carol, because they came early and stayed late and were really helpful. I love that Mike has a friend who was also adopted, and of Russian descent.

 

If you are in the Atlanta area and are an adoptive parent, please give me a holler and I will add you to my email list. I try to do events twice a year.

*I founded MAPREC [Metro Atlanta Parents of Russian and Eastern European Children] in 2003, before I had finished Alesia's adoption, and it's been a source of fun and fellowship. It's a very informal group, but everyone seems to have a good time, and it gives the kids a chance to see lots of other kids that are adopted from Russia, Kazakhstan, Ukraine, etc. We also have some biological children and domestically adopted children in some of our families. I love the diversity.

A Real Mom

I don't look much like my mother. We both have blue eyes and brown hair, but I look much more like my father. Not a single person has ever said to my mother, "Are you Dee's REAL mom?"

I don't look much like my daughter. Yet I've been asked several times over the years "Where's her REAL mom?"

The answer is, right here. In front of you. I am her REAL mom. I have taken care of her from the moment she was legally mine - fed her, clothed her, loved her, fought for her. Ditto for Michael.

My children are real. I am real. The love we share is totally real. I would give up my life for my children, if necessary.

So why do some folks persist in asking us adoptive moms if we are "real"??

There's a big discussion going on in my Yahoo single adoptive moms group, because a couple of us have had to deal with very hurtful comments recently.

How do you think it makes my kids feel when they hear something about their "real" parent? I am going to quote from another mom here because it illustrates how much it hurts:

"You know the worse thing about this -- the guy sitting at the desk behind us is 40 and adopted. He heard the whole thing and called in sick today. So I am sure it always stings."

If you are not adopted and you don't have adopted kids, please don't treat me or my children any differently.

Please don't ask us if we have the same last name - I've gotten that one several times.

Please don't ask where the "real" mom is.

Don't feel like you have to tell me I look like my kids. I know it's meant as a kindness, but it's awkward for us both. My kids never met their birth fathers, and don't remember their birth moms very well, so they have no idea who they look like, nor does it matter. Does the fact I don't look much like my mother mean she loves me less? No.

My great great grandmother married my great great grandfather and brought into the marriage a little boy about 5 years old. Nobody knows if he's the biological child of great grandaddy or not. Yet, there are some descendants in my family who worry they aren't properly related to the rest of us fully. They wonder if they should even carry the Hasty name. The fact is, that little boy was adopted by my great grandfather and raised as his son, and given his name. So the rest of it doesn't matter. I certainly don't care.

People get all worked up about blood. I don't. Love doesn't care about biology, if it's real.

I have friends with children who are a different race; some adopted, some not. Does it matter? Do any of those kids love their parents differently because of a skin pigment, or differently shaped eyes? NO.

Every adoptive parent I know worked, fought, sweated, and cried for a long time to get their precious children home. Every one. They are "real" parents in every important sense of the word. Please keep that in mind next time you think about making an insensitive remark.

If you're an adoptive parent dealing with insensitive comments, try to remember this: ignorance is simply ignorance. Pray for enlightenment for those people who doubt your commitment to your child.

One heart at a time. That's how we will change the world.

The Visitor from Afar

It would be nice if we could have a white Christmas but I don't expect it. Right now we are having a cold, rainy spell. We needed all this last summer. Now my pansies are drowning.

It was so stuffy upstairs here last night I actually ran the air conditioner all night, on fan.

About 8:30 last night we had finished dinner and I was just sitting down in the family room to watch a movie, when the doorbell rang. Very unusual.

I went to the door and called out "Who's there?" but there was no answer. I flipped on the porch light and peeked out, and it was Svitlana, all the way from Khabarovsk, Russia.Startled is an understatement.

I opened the door and gave her a hug.

Svitlana is a Baptist missionary who works with kids in orphanages all over Khabarovsk. She was instrumental in helping me adopt Alesia. She met with the orphanage director, who didn't like Americans and didn't want me to adopt Alesia. Somehow, she changed his mind.

We had a good, but brief visit. The first words out of her mouth were "Where is Alesia?"

I had to tell her Alesia is living in South Carolina with a boyfriend. I told her the basic situation. We prayed for Alesia.

She tried to speak Russian with Michael, which embarrassed him. He said sheepishly, I know what you are saying but I can't answer in Russian.[I am getting him some Russian learning materials for Christmas. He wants to re-learn it, which is great.]

My mother said later it was rather rude to just drop in without calling first, but I explained in Russia people drop in all the time without calling. Nobody thinks it's rude. Besides, Svitlana's English isn't perfect, so I don't think she likes to try and speak it on the phone.

She had a friend waiting outside in the car, so she didn't stay long. It was very bittersweet, seeing her.

This was December 2004 in Khabarovsk, at a little going-away dinner for Alesia. Svitlana is in the red jacket and Olga, Alesia's tutor, is on her other side. They were so happy she was coming to America, getting a chance at a better life.I talk about her a lot in my book about Alesia's adoption.

Before bed last night I just cried and cried. All I could think about was my profound sadness at how Alesia is squandering these precious young years of her life. It breaks my heart.

I am better today. I have to just trust God to keep her safe. I pray for her many times a day.

On a happier note...

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I was contacted by a lady who works for a lovely company called Tinyprints. There are some really cool gift ideas, if you're pondering what to get someone.

I'm delighted to say, readers of the Crab Chronicles get a nice discount on the site.

When you order, use this code: 10TPSPECIAL and receive 10% off a purchase. (Excludes gifts & calendars, photo books, stamps, and the William Arthur and Eric Condren products.)

Create custom business cards and custom stationary at TinyPrints.com. Find creative ways to make anything from Christmas cards to graduation announcements. Become a part of the TinyPrints community by visiting the blog for news, trends, creative ideas, promotions and more.

[NOTE: If the above links don't work, let me know.]

China Adoption by Single Women

The message below was posted on my Yahoo group for parents who have adopted children with limb differences. It's very exciting to me. I hope all the children can be matched with loving single moms or two-parent families.

"China now allows single women to adopt children with individual needs who are part of China's "Special Focus" program. Many single women have been matched with a young child from China with in as little as 2 months for the gender, age and individual needs they requested. On average, single women on WACAP's list wait 2 - 3 months to be matched with a child depending on the needs and ages they are open to.

Recently, single women working with WACAP have been matched with children with individual needs such as Hepatitis B, ear atresia, spina bifida, a missing limb, thalassemia, and albinism. Contact Ckids@wacap.org or FamilyFinders@wacap.org to learn more about the kinds of children that we have seen in China's "Special Focus" program. WACAP (www.wacap.org) is a non-profit adoption agency.
WACAP will help you complete the necessary paperwork to be on our list of singles to be matched with a child – within the gender, age and individual needs you request. Many children who are available to single parents are never posted on agency websites because they're instantly matched with families when new child information is released by the CCCWA. When the files are released in China, WACAP staff is up late at night to match you with a child who needs a family. You will have three days to review the child's information and accept or decline the child for adoption. If the referral isn't the right child for you, we will continue to search the next month, when new files are again released.
If you've been waiting to find the right child from China on our current list, change your strategy now! Contact WACAP so they can explain the adoption process for single women. Contact FamilyFinders@wacap.org or ckids@wacap.org. Even if your homestudy is not yet started the whole process can take as little as 12 months to have your child home and wrapped in your arms."

MANY Chinese babies are born with congenital limb differences. Sometimes, they are simply missing a finger or two. Even if they are missing a hand, like my son, they can function quite well in society, here in the USA. Please consider one of the special needs children available in China, if oyur heart is so inclined.

It Was Seven Years Ago Today...

It was exactly seven years ago today, a cold and snowy day in the Russian Far East, when I stood in a courtroom and a judge said the words I'd waited more than 18 months to hear: Olesya Pavlova is your daughter.

I looked at the tiny blonde girl in ill-fitting orphanage clothes, and thought "I am a mama!" I had always imagined that moment to be in a hospital, gazing at the tiny face of a newborn. Instead, God had a different plan in mind for me.

For months I had wept when I heard the Mercy Me song I Can Only Imagine - the song talks about meeting Jesus, but to me the words were so powerful because seeing my daughter's face and knowing I was her mama was something I could literally "only imagine."

This is Alesia with some of the girls she lived with in the orphanage in Khabarovsk. (The date on the photo's corner is wrong; it was May 2004.) Alesia stands in the back in the purple sweater. The little girl in the pink shirt in the front was her best friend, and she was adopted by a single mom in Indiana. I know two other girls are at the university now, but I don't know the fates of the others. It's likely they are living on the streets, or they've followed in their mothers' footsteps and become prostitutes. Alesia had been home years before I learned about the abuse and starvation, the beatings, all the terrible things that happened in the orphanage. Yet, the girls I met were normal kids, it seemed, cute and funny and sweet.

This was the first photo I ever saw of Alesia. She was about 11 years old. It was sent to me by a missionary who worked in Khabarovsk, Svitlana Mayboroda. She had been the one who took my choir to the oprhanage the first time I met Alesia. I believe she is still there, helping the kids in orphanages all over Khabarovsk, ministering to kids nobody else regards very highly in Russian society.

Above, Alesia between her tutor, Olga, and Svitlana, at her going away dinner, the night before she left Khabarovsk. Those two ladies, plus my friend Kate's aunt Toma, helped me so much during the long months of waiting to be able to complete the adoption. I held the dinner to thank them.

(Above, outside the Kremlin with Alesia.) After court, it took another several weeks before I could finally bring her home, but on December 5, 2004, we landed in Atlanta, and were picked up by my friend Maria and her son, and the great adventure commenced.

If you think you know about scary things, you cannot imagine how scary it is to become a first-time mom to a 13 year old who doesn't speak English. Terrifying doesn't begin to cover it.

From that day to this, I have loved my daughter completely, and prayed almost constantly to be able to help her. She has had so much adversity in her short life, more than any one person should have to bear.

Alesia called me late this afternoon. I had not heard her voice in more than two months, and I had become very sad about the situation. The last time we had talked we had argued.

Today, we had a good conversation. I was able to stay calm and not be confrontational. She is still living with her boyfriend in South Carolina. She is taking care of his 6 year old daughter that lives with them. She wouldn't tell me what he does for a living. It's not an ideal situation, to me, but she says she is happy.

She promised me she will get her GED, and get a job.

She wanted to know how we are doing, all the news from home. We ended the conversation with her saying she loved me, and Mike and Granny, and she misses us. We miss her. I told her I love her. Despite all the issues we've had recently, despite all my worry and fear, there is still a great love.She will always be my little girl, no matter what she does.

Thanks be to God.