A Couple of Dangling Carrots

I’ve always been a chronic email checker, but when awaiting news that another step in the adoption process has been approved, this obsession takes on a new life. At least for awhile, after weeks and months go by, the urge to check one more time sort of fades. Those ads to encourage purchasing life insurance, or refill my ink cartridges for a bargain, or sell me the latest and greatest coffee maker can wait.

Then one day “ping” you see a message sent from your adoption representative and your heart flutters up into your throat. The scene is always the same. Open it and skim it looking for the highlights —good news or bad news. Then starting over and drinking in every word, read it again. Then you read it a third time, this time trying to read between the lines and figure out how the new information fits into the sliding time line you have going on in your head about how this adoption is going to play out. Close the email, wait a few minutes and then go through the same procedure again. This time, you conclude by hitting the forward button and type out all of your unorganized thoughts of euphoria and panic about this email and send it to your husband—your voice of reason—and wait for his reply.

What a Tuesday morning this week. The message was that CARA will not grant our NOC without 7 more documents. On the third reading of the email, I realize that by asking for more, they are considering a YES, and are not giving us an outright NO. Wonderful!

Then it sets in....7 more documents ASAP. Really? It happens they are all ones that have been sent before. This is good news, as I can reprint most of them easily and have them notarized but, there is still a doctor’s note from Devi’s pediatrician required and Pat and I have to be tested, yet again, for HIV. These items require planning, appointments, all taking up valuable minutes, when all I can think of is getting these papers in the mail immediately. Coming to my senses, Pat and I devise a plan to tick each task off the list. These are merely hoops and I am willing to jump as high as they want at this point.

Devi's updated letter to her sister.

It is a picture of Shir Khan Lake (round blue lake surrounded by lions and one monkey), because the Jungle Book took place in India. Her personal sentiment is her name beside two hearts, a smiley face and the word Love. I think that says it all!

Today we will complete their final request - the HIV test. Rather than going through our doctor’s office which requires a copay and takes a week to get results, we are going to a clinic where I plan on bringing my own stash of sanitary wipes to clean any surface I may come in contact with. Guaranteed printed out results in 20 minutes is really all I care about at this point.

Much to my surprise during my email exchange with our representative we received this news about our sugar plum from the representative who is in India now....

She is doing well. She is still very shy—when you talk to her, she closes her eyes and pretends you’re not there.:) She is walking really well and doesn’t cry anymore. She plays ball with her caretaker and smiles while she does that. Her fingers and toes look a lot better than last time since she has had her surgery. She seems to be using them well.

With a full heart and a head in the clouds, we will hopefully hit the post office tomorrow to send off this set of papers. The final set? We hope so. With these latest dangling carrots still hanging fresh in front of our noses, I begin my email obsession....awaiting photos from this latest visit :)

It Happened One Thrusday in the Meat Department

Although the events of this past Thursday are phenomenal, I find myself at a loss for words. It isn’t that I don’t know what happened, but the magnitude of this series of fortunate events has left me slack jawed. I honestly am shocked by the encounters of a single day and am emotionally moved — once again smoothing the raised goose bumps on my arm and attempting to keep the rising hope in my chest contained to a manageable level.

We accepted Sonalika’s referral seven and a half months ago. During that time, I’ve reached out to the many forums, trying to connect with someone who has adopted from SOFOSH. Each time I toss out a request for information, it has always gone unanswered. I’m not terribly surprised by this, however, because the majority of the children from SOFOSH are adopted domestically, with very few adopted internationally and even fewer still that find their forever home in the USA.

Last Thursday I spotted a post from one of the forums with the word “SOFOSH” in the subject line. I was thrilled to find another family who had just received a referral of a child from the same place as Sonalika. They were seeking information about the orphanage, just as I have many many times. While I have not heard back from that family, I did receive a reply email from someone else who adopted her daughter from SOFOSH eight years ago! Recalling it as a small, neat, tidy and well run orphanage, she went on to thoughtfully tell me about how she and her daughter were joined, about the mound of medical history that had been recorded during her stay and about the gift her birth mother had left for her. A letter and a tracing of her hand prints. Priceless.

This family will be going to India in November to visit the husband's extended family and to take their daughter, now nearly 9 years old, to SOFOSH for the first time, to see where she lived before being adopted. To my astonishment, the mother offered to look up Sonalika and take pictures for us! I had wanted to ask, but did not want to impose, especially considering the importance of their trip. I was flabbergasted and so excited at the thought that someone from our home soil would see and hopefully smooch on our dear one so far away. At last we had made a connection to SOFOSH.

That same afternoon, I had about 15 minutes before I needed to pick up Devi from preschool, so for no particular reason, went into the “expensive” grocery store to wander, looking for menu inspiration for the dinner party I was hosting the following evening. I ended up in the meat section, where I overhead a woman and her young daughter talking to the man behind the meat counter.

Admitting my eavesdropping, I confessed to hearing that the meat counter man as well as the young girl were adopted from India. Naturally, I added my two cents about Devi’s adoption AND that we were waiting for news to travel to our Sonalika. The mother and I shared the details of our first adoption experiences, and found that she and the woman whose email I had received earlier in the day, had worked with the same agency, and most likely had traveled at the same time. In addition, her second adoption attempt was with the same agency that we are working with now for Sonalika, and our representative? Yep, one in the same!

Unfortunately, her second adoption did not happen due to circumstances beyond control. Suffice to say it was during the time of the Mumbai bombings, that occurred while the family was in flight to India to pick up their child. Ironically they had reservations to stay at the hotel where the attack occurred. As her story unfolded, tears began to stream down her face as she recounted the difficult decisions that they were forced to make. The world around us blurred as I consoled and hugged the woman in the meat department, who up until that time I didn't even know her name.

This chance meeting went from comment, to chat, to heart to heart conversation lasting nearly an hour. Occasionally from the corner of my eye I would catch a glimpse of her lovely daughter zipping through the aisles wielding her mini cart about the store dodging and weaving through the other shoppers. We were so engrossed exchanging common ground that we hardly noticed the mayhem going on around us. In spite of her tragic story, I did find out that she and her husband toured SOFOSH when they were in India adopting their first daughter. They too, confirmed what great care the children were getting and what a nice home it was. She offered so much encouragement to me after hearing about our story, full of it's delays and strange circumstances.

I was so overwhelmed after leaving the store, having returned my empty cart with NO shopping done, that I had to sit at the steering wheel and recount the story and information for awhile before thinking it was safe enough to drive. I couldn’t wait to tell Pat about my encounters with two women who had been to SOFOSH. I got home and shot off a quick email to our agency representative telling her that the woman in my chance meeting in the meat department had said hello.

Our representative replied almost immediately, saying amongst other things that CARA had requested one of Sonalika’s documents again. While some may consider this another snag or delay, I was overjoyed. To me it means that our paperwork has found the right desk AND someone is looking at it! Yay!! And if my heart wasn’t yet full of enough news of SOFOSH to savor, our representative said she was leaving for India this week and would be stopping to see our Sonalika! She will be sending new photos and a video as soon as she can.

All this on one Thursday afternoon. I can't explain how strange is was to absently wander into each random situation and find news of our daughter, rejuvenating us in our wait. Now with renewed hope, patience and that tingly feeling in my gut, we begin to watch our mailbox for photos, videos or news of NOC!

A Simple Cup of Joe

I'll Be Home Soon

Not more than 4 short years ago, I considered coffee something that cowboys drank on the range...the equivalent of muddy water, with a swirl of sand at the bottom for dregs. Though I would agree, the smell of it delicious, it was similar to the aroma of abarbecue, in that the taste could never measure up to the waft.

Living a mere hour away from Seattle, one of the major coffee drinking hubs in our country, I succumbed to peer pressure and one day gave a cup of joe an honest try. Granted I would never drink it “black” like my mother did, I have to admit that with a healthy dose of steamed milk and array of wonderful flavorings, that brown water took on a whole new life and an addiction was born.

Yes, it would be far cheaper to buy a machine to satisfy my gray weather habit at home, but the fine marketing department of the coffee mecca, made it a point to hire perky people who were willing to memorize the names of all their regular patrons and their drink order. What girl does not like to be waited on by name especially in the wee hours of the morning?

Soon after discovering this new comfort, Devi arrived on the scene. Pat and I vowed from the start that Devi was joining our lives all ready in progress for far longer than hers, so we kept up the ritual of weekend coffees and simply brought her along. Hence, Story Time and Coffee Time was born and we have been partaking in this special bonding time ever since. We load up my big African Basket with juice and asmorgasbord of nuts, yogurt bites and dried fruit for Devi, toss in a few books or a game and our own cups (doing our part to save the environment) and off we go.

Over the course of three years, our coffee scene has changed many times for many reasons. While I tend to hit Starbucks during the week because of their early start time, the weekends are all about supporting the local businesses. Naturally this eases the guilt of frivolous spending, as we are stimulating our flat economy and helping the little guy (wink, wink).

For a long while we went to Art and Soul, a coffee serving-slash-ceramic painting shop, with the same employee (usually with experience in only one area) running both ends of the business. It was right across the street from the farmer’s market, and with plate glass floor to ceiling windows on all sides, the draw much more about watching the colorful pedestrians, many with a poochie or two in tow, then it was about the quality of the coffee, however it was the perfect scene for lulling a wee one to sleep. Closing for obvious reasons, we searched and found Origin 23, which wasconveniently close to Devi’s Kindermusik class. Here we found it all. Wonderful coffee roasted on site and a welcoming atmosphere with comfy overstuffed chairs, fireplace and coloring and game station for the kids. It was popular too and we soon knew and chatted with other “regulars”. Then, one Saturday in June, without warning, we pulled on the familiar door handle only to find it locked. Cupping our hands to our faces and peering into the windows, the place was deserted with not so much as a closed sign. We were once again without a coffee home. There have been several others that we visit for various reasons; Cavanaugh’s when we are walking and want to sit outside; Antique Sandwich Company when we want breakfast in addition to a coffee; and Devi’s favorite the Little Coffee House - a drive through that offers dumdum suckers to the kids, which we managed to keep a secret from her for a long time.

So why tell the long drawn out story about our coffee craving? Okay, I’ll cut to the chase. September found us still floundering for a new coffee spot so I put a shout out to T-town friends looking for a new haven. Melanie, a friend just voted the most influential woman in our city, suggested Caffe Dei. With credentials like that, I knew she must know what she was talking about, so last Saturday we gave it try. First impressions are that it is an inviting spot, with ample room to sit and very nice employees. The coffee - delicious. Devi even gave it the two thumbs up. The biggest sealer of the deal came as we were leaving. A sucker for artwork, I noticed a stack of prints for sale that were done by a local artist whose canvas originals were displayed on the cafe walls. While the walls were done in pigs, puppies and cows, I happened to find a hard to resist bunny – first on the stack of prints. Further inspection revealed the title of this particular print, THE one that caught my eye. It is called “I’ll Be Home Soon”. I love it. I bought it.

It even gives me goose bumps, or bunny bumps, thinking about it now. We’ve been praying for some sort of encouragement that our Treya will be cleared to join our family and as smooth as a steaming cup of coffee we found our sign in a bunny from our new coffee home - Caffe Dei.

Dance With Me Momma

Forever Family Day 2010

A Recent Moment

Looking down into her precious face, now nearly 4 years old, I still see the quiet calm in the darkness of her almond shaped sparkling eyes and see the baby I met three years ago. Her arms are raised up in search of the comfortable embrace she has found in me—her momma.

Picking her up, her now gangly long legs can nearly wrap around my waist. One of her arms, the left one, finds a comfortable spot draped around my neck and the other huddles close to my chest with the thumb on the end of her hand finding her mouth, a source of self soothing since long before we knew each other. The sweet smell of her hair fills my nostrils and because her face is turned away from mine, I can only imagine her tired eyes struggling to stay open, though the weight of her warm brown lids gradually pull them shut. Occasional muffled heavy sighs, make way for her body to sink ever deeper into my embrace; her legs become more and more slack dangling at my knees, as we become like one shifting from side to side to the slow melodic rhythm.

Forever Family Day 2009

We are dancing, or rather I am swaying to the music that fills our living room with her wrapped in my loving arms. This is nothing new. We’ve been perfecting this choreographed dance since we met three years ago. Now a days, however, it seems that the independence that comes with her maturity finds her far too busy to need or want this place of comfort for long, although it will always be here for her.

I am delighted yet surprised that she still remembers our dance. Once a daily occurrence, now has become a rare occasion that I get to hold her in this way. Perhaps her need for a dance has been swayed by the change in the season - the chill in the air, the darkness that comes sooner with each passing day, bringing with it the urge to cuddle up and be warm. Perhaps she is aware of the approaching anniversary of our forever family day and is feeling as nostalgic as I. The difference this time is that she has sought me out and I drop everything to hold my pumpkin pie.

Forever Family Day 2008

For me, this is a gift. A chance to reflect on that fateful September 18th and marvel at how far we have come together as a family in just three short years. We have gone from falling in love with a small photo, to being legally joined, to finally living out the dream of being a family. To comfortably now know the familiar feel of her soft skin against mine, to know the thump of her heartbeat as her chest rests on mine and to hear the slow and steady whisper of her breath. These wonders, now my reality in becoming her momma, are what I know and would recognize anywhere. I feel blessed each day I get to experience her.

The day we met, September 18th, 2007

It seems each day we discover something new about her multi-faceted personality. Phrases, facial expressions and small glimpses into her world that give tiny hints about the girl, teenager and woman she will one day become. One thing is for certain...she wants to be a momma one day and will tell you what a good one she is going to be! This journey of joy is so far from what we thought we would ever experience as parents and we are enjoying every minute of her growth.

Forever Family Day 2010

This year, to celebrate our Forever Family Day we decided to reenact our September meeting. To do this, we restored the baby doll crib that my grandfather built for my sister and I to play with when we were young. A funny side note about my grand father, Elmer Joseph Schrag is that he was a jack of all trades...a wonderful talented man who with my grandmother raised 4 daughter's while working as barber, dentist, postman, farmer and carpenter in the small city of Alsen, North Dakota. I mention this because to us grand and great grand children he was a gentle giant among men. A true saint. While one child thought he was a direct decendent of thee Joseph (given his middle name and the fact that he was a carpenter) I thought he invented Elmer's glue, because he was always using it in his projects and it had his name right on the bottle!

In any case, the crib, once stained wood, somewhere along the way became white, and so we began with a fresh coat to spruce her up.



We were so excited to get started, we nearly forgot to protect a set of tiny lungs from the fumes.


Devi chose the color scheme...pink and purple, which I think is every 3 year old's favorite colors!

With the original jumping lambs and bunnies covered by countless coats of paint, we added flower, butterfly and dragon fly decals to bring sweet dreams to the baby dolls that would one day be resting there.

Crib completed we headed out to Gateway to India for our traditional Indian meal and to "ching" a toast with our glasses to another wonderful year. Devi had her Mango Lassie downed in almost a single gulp!


Full to nearly bursting, we came home and discovered the crib all made up and ready to play with. To our surprise, Devi began playing adoption on her own. We had hoped to tell HER story, but she had another story in mind. She approached the crib in her overly dramatic fashion saying "AWWWW!!! I LOVE it. Daddy, look at the baby God chose for us. Her name in Treya Sonilka. Isn't she beautiful? I am her big sister and I love her." It was over the top cheesy, just like the smile in the picture below, and so cute.


Finally it was time for bed. We sent Devi into her room to change into PJs. Things got quiet, that oh-no kind of quiet where your mom alarm goes off and you run to the place where you once left them. Her bedroom door was shut and the lights off inside. When I opened the door, there was Devi. She had pulled the rocker up to the edge of play crib and was reading a bed time story by nightlight to the baby, who has now for reasons unknown, become Treya Sonalika Wanda Sue. When she saw me, she put her finger up to her lips to shush me and whispered that her baby sister was asleep so I was to be quiet.


Ending our evening with a sweet treat, we say hello to what another year together will bring. I don't think there is any question what the three of us are wishing for.

Being Consumed.

It is one of my least favorite personality traits. Sometimes I like to reason it away as diligence, or being thorough, but in truth, it is what it is – the inability to think about anything else when a certain thing is on my mind. Gnawing.

This is not to say that at times, being consumed by something is not a good thing. Sometimes it is fun, infectious, like a giggle turned into uncontrollable fall-down laughter over the silliest of things. That something that has tickled your funny bone renders you limp, with aching sides and unable to function. Every attempt to reclaim reality is challenged by the urge to break up into that gasping for air kind of hysteria, as you are consumed by that one funny thought again and again. You simply can not let it go, or want to.

I wish it was that kind of consumed I felt now, but it isn’t.

As I type, there is a little girl in India who does not know me; who has probably never seen my photograph, although some have been sent to her. In her short 18 months of life she has overcome much, developed her own life and I like to think, she is happy. She certainly does not long for anything different, she knows nothing else, as she has lived in an orphanage since her fifth day of life.

Ours is the family who has become consumed by her and the process to be joined with her forever, since first eyeing her photograph in February. Filling out paperwork - send me mountains of it and I will comply with an astounding amount of diligence and accuracy – crossing every T and dotting every I. Appointments and interviews - my date book is open and I willingly rearrange my schedule to fit all of them in every time. Then finally, there comes that time when all of your front end effort is done. It leaves your hands and is sent in the form of documents, forms and files to an office on the other side of the world. This office is one that I have no phone number for, no way to exchange email, in fact, I’ve signed a contract that states I will not contact them or interfere directly, but will only correspond through our adoption agency that is a whole state away. The agency's instruction to us was that the next step (NOC) usually takes 2 months, but has been averaging 3 months, and considering closures may take 4 or more months - all of these statistics are carefully marked on our calendar to help anxiously count down the time.

Just as we approached the 3 month mark and began to allow ourselves to anticipate good news with the next phone call....a bomb was dropped. CARA (the governing body overseeing all adoptions) streamlined their process, the result sending us a step backward to have our child cleared for international adoption again, but through a different office this time. Still, in that distant office, the flurry of shuffled papers takes place miles away and we wonder if our paperwork stack remains together, travels together or even finds the correct desk again. Is this change in course being handled in the swift way I could have done it if maneuvering the system myself? Is there any sense of urgency? We can only hope. Though cases waiting for NOC will be processed first, a 3-4 month delay is predicted. As the heavy dead weight of each of these facts filled with disappointment are loaded upon our shoulders, we find out that part of the days I so diligently Xed off my calendar, CARA was not issuing NOCs at all. We were not marking time at all. Stagnant.

With nothing but idle time to wait, I can’t turn off my brain. Consumed. The facts and figures swirl in my head, each analysis makes me further realize the devastation this news brings. Where do we stand now? I have no idea. Delays is a word that has no definite meaning. Delay in one's fast food order translates to 5 minutes. Delay on the production of a 747 could be years. In adoption, we are told delay is unpredictable and normal. For us this means traveling by the end of the year; highly unlikely. Traveling by her 2nd birthday in January; don’t count on it. Traveling, most likely, more than a year after seeing her cute little face in a photo for the first time; hard to comprehend. Will I even recognize my child, whose changing appearances were last captured in the photograph I carry; now more than 4 months old?

Then there is the worry that comes by the comparisons. Treya will be more than double the age that Devi was when we met her, which translates into so many more missed milestones, holidays, bonding time and selfishly, my last chance to cuddle my own baby baby; one who still fits my lap, not yet yearning for her own independence. I worry about her sense of loss when we take her from her home in India to her new residence in the states and remember the rule...we will see the biggest changes in our child when she has been in her new home longer than the time spent in India. For Treya that will occur when she will be nearly 4 years old! With each passing day these fears grow stronger in my consumed mind, knowing that I would do anything to change these circumstances. Yes, I would do anything for this child I've never met.

This part of the journey is miserable. It is sad, maddening and quite certainly, out of control. No matter how consumed I am or become over the numbers, there is nothing to be done about the changes at CARA, how fast officials do their job, the extra months of delay keeping us from our daughter, or other delays that could pop up later. I now understand how Devi feels when she throws herself down on the floor in a tantrum totally overwhelmed by the fact that she can not have what she wants. I feel like having one too–like pulling my hair and screaming how unfair it all is, but with my maturity comes the realization that none of this would change a single thing. Unless I can let these feelings go and live in the moment, I will most certainly go crazy. At the very least I've driven my family and friends to within inches of the cliff, as every conversation, no matter how hard I try, somehow comes back to Treya, rehashing the same facts over and over...I think of nothing else. Gnawing.

Last night, I dreamed of numbers. Average number of days for NOC or guardianship; amount of days until our paperwork begins to expire again; days until Treya's birthday, Christmas, and other holidays...numbers, Numbers, NUMBERS. I woke up exhausted, concluding that I have to let the escalating misery go and find peace.

After hearing the lasted news from CARA, I was commiserating with a fellow adoption friend who helped me see past my obsession of over consuming thoughts and brought back some focus. She wrote...

"Peace be with you, dear friend. I'm trying to remember that God is there with his big conductor's baton, orchestrating the day when our little daughters will be in our arms."

With no idea of when we might take that next step forward, my reply? "Let's hope He is conducting a MARCH!"

Still waiting.

The Summer in Review

With our dwindling daily newspaper, once again full with back to school circulars, it has dawned on me that summer has come and gone. With that, I offer our summer in review (the events not previously blogged about anyway)...

Sound to Narrows - June 12

This was Devi's third and final time as a diaper dash contestant. Next year she'll train for the big 1k. She held her own once again placing...well, that is hard to determine. Once the gun sounds, the kids run, the parents jockey for position with cameras on the opposing side and mayhem ensues.

First s'more ever - mid June

Pool time fun, including holding a baby slug for the first time - mid June

Games with Papa and Gail - mid June

My dad and his friend Gail, are snowbirds who arrived in June for the summer. We kicked it off right with a pizza and game night. Hi-Ho-Cherrio!

Taste of Tacoma - June 27

Nothing like Indian food on a paperplate while listening to local talent....Devi opted for a corn dog. Topping it all off a skewer of shish-ka-berries! Yum, my favorite.

This creation came to life at the Home Depot booth that day. A treasured tile gift.

World Cup

World Cup found us waking at all hours of the morning and night to watch the top teams battle it out. Devi and daddy loved to watch together and chant "Go U-S-A!" There was lots of flag waving. Many a game took place during Devi's nap time, where we would chant in whispers. Daddy had to occasionally step outside to yell out "GOAL" because he just couldn't hold it in.

Old Friends and Neighbors visited from Ohio!

Devi moves up to Room 3 at preschool - July 1st

Freedom Fair - July 4th

We walked to the Freedom Fair for the Fourth and met up with all kinds of friends. We listened to music, and played games, slid down the slides, chatted with pirates and ate yummy treats. Later, everyone was up to our house for warm blankets and the fireworks show.

Blues Festival - July 11th

The Blues festival was our only real HOT weekend of the summer. Devi remembered it with her first face painting EVER! She was thrilled. The music was great, weather wonderful and our hummus picnic lunch on the grass was perfect.

Art on the Ave - July 18th

In addition to great local artists selling their masterpieces, there was this dunk tank that had Devi mesmerized. Her aim being a bit off, daddy helped her reach her goal. SPLASH!!

Frisco Freeze turns 60 - mid July

Nothing like dollar burgers and shakes! I'm certain it is the 60 years of grease that makes these burgers taste so delicious. That and the fact that they are served in wax paper bags! Only way to eat them is in the back of the van....LOVE a picnic in the van!

Gig Harbor Farmer's Market - July

Appeased with a fresh nectarine. A small consolation for no pony rides this year. Bummer.

Don's Ruston Market - July 24th

Fresh strawberry malt from Don's, our town's old fashioned malt shop. This was Devi's choice for a reward for good sleeping habits.

Ethnic Fest - July 25th

This is my favorite festival of the year by far. So much dancing and good live music. Toss in some ethnic food (Gateway to India) and I'm in heaven. Apparently, so was Devi this year. She developed a little crush on the reggae singer Alex....as she chanted his name, rushed the stage and got a high-five from the performer. Egads!

Olympia's Farmer's Market - early August

Devi's second face painting ever. An old pro now...

decisions, decisions....shopping at our favorite tie-dye store!

Listening to a little blues and feeding daddy garbage cake...all the left over batters from the bakery mixed together and baked to perfection!

All the cousins visit for VBS - early August

Devi was in heaven with four cousins to play with...2 visiting from California and 2 visiting from Colorado AND all at Oma's house. A full week of picnics, a Mexican fiesta, sprinklers, bracelet making, picking raspberries, perfecting the paper airplane, hide and seek, "helping" Oma cook, red light green light and the ever famous DOG PILE were enjoyed.

Aunt Bonnie's 80th birthday - August 7

Devi's first opportunity to meet Aunt Bonnie, my mother's sister. A huge family reunion in the pouring rain marked the special occasion. Devi was drenched, but had a ball playing with siblings of our ever growing extended family.

Phew! Guess we were pretty busy in spite of the uncooperative weather. Today, it rained...not the summer kind. It was the kind of rain that yanks the not-yet-ready leaves from the trees for the blustery wind to play with. As I sit snuggly in my first sweat shirt wearing of the season, it is evident that fall is definitely on it's way.

Extending The Hand of Friendship

We are home after a long weekend in Portland, Oregon celebrating India’s Independence Day. Not alone in our quest for some Indian culture; seven families converged in what we hope, will become an annual and growing event. Buddies through blogs and forums, most of us had never met face to face before, but bear witness to the power of friendship through our connection—our adopted children from India.

Some of the Blogging Friends with their children
Top: April, Alesha, Me, Devi, Adia, Cheryl, Kristi, Shali
Bottom: Metali, Brie, Daya

Blue Lake park was the perfect setting for us to get acquainted. Sunny skies, a water pad, lake and a slight breeze kept us all occupied. Until, capitalizing on an opportunity, some teenagers stationed near us began selling water balloons; 10 for a buck (although a couple of the cute little girls managed to sweet talk the entrepreneurs into a “sample” more than once). We became their best customers, scarfing them up faster than they could fill them. Each with a different method, our children chased, tossed, threw, squirted and savored the balloons all afternoon, with a few sneaky adults joining in the irresistible fun from time to time. A bit of relief came if you managed to becaught in the cross fire of mist from a balloon explosion before it evaporated in the heat. Devi decided to hoard hers....all pink in color...until a little motherly encouragement got her to share her stash. It was fascinating to watch the combination of our 15 biological and adopted kids, ranging in age from 1 to 13 years, one of whom has been in the US only two months, bloom from quick introductions to buddies in the course of one afternoon.

After checking into our hotel and catching our breath, all the kids re converged at a preschool for a kid-style “pizza party”, complete with babysitters. I wondered how Devi would behave, her first ever nap-less day, but once play-doh was spotted, she rallied for the occasion. Like a kids’ dream come true, the room was filled with every kind of toy their imaginations could dream up, and with pizza and Popsicles served at a table “just her size” euphoria was reached.

With the children left in more than capable hands, the adults ventured out to McMenimans for dinner. The sprawling garden-like setting was perfect for us to enjoy a leisurely dinner and a cold brew on a hot day; still outside, but enjoying the out of doors with light breezes under the comfort of a sun umbrella. For the first time since beginning our first adoption in 2005, we had the opportunity to talk openly with a group of other adoptive parents about the struggles and successes of undoubtedly, the most incredible journeys we’ve ever endured. With each of us in various stages of pursuing family additions and one of us an adoptee herself, the conversation brought a bit of experience, hope and support to each of our unique circumstances, I think. Heartfelt details of how each adoption began and of the forever families that were united because of those efforts and desire, form the kinds of stories that fill my soul and ground me in the certainty that my life choice was and is the right one.

It was a late night when we finally retrieved all of our children. I was surprised to find Dev still upright, reading one out of a stack of books while sitting in the lap of a sitter when we arrived and was still able to utter her thank you’s before we departed. Moments after being buckled into her car seat, however, found Devi drifting off to dreamland, but not before asking if we could do a “pizza party” again tomorrow.

Independence day was Sunday. We managed to take the somewhat shaded area of a Starbucks patio by storm and sheer numbers, which just happened to overlook the stage below. Early arrivals, we got to watch the area come alive, first with vibrant colored clothing, next with the aroma of wafting Indian food and finally with lively musical and dance performances. I heard from our group more than once how their senses had transporting them to special places reliving memories from half way around the world.

Devi, Daya, and Shali

Shiny ebony hair adorned with gold jewelry and finery, and the deep richness of patterned jewel toned salwar kameez and sarees were everywhere you looked as we mingled in a crowd of pure beauty. In and amongst that crowd were our children. What a joy it was to see all of our beautiful brown skinned children proudly wearing their Indian outfits, bangles and bindis. By this time, they were all fast friends, twirling and playing in the gaiety of the moment. In Introspective moments throughout the day, I found myself contemplating the course that brought our family to be standing here...in the USA celebrating the Independence of another friendly nation — the birth place of my Bengali princess; my greatest blessing to date. Smiling slightly larger, I knew that next year, our group will have grown in number by at least three, one of which will be our Pune princess, Treya.

Although we would have like to stay longer and partake in more yummy food, and more frivolity, our little turnip was twirled out, so we said our Namaste’s and headed for the car. Devi fell into a deep boneless sleep atop daddy’s shoulder in route to the parking garage, no doubt dreaming of samosas, biryani and her personal favorite, a mango lassi. She continued to snooze until 5pm that evening, well over a three hour nap. She definitely was celebrated out!

A cool reviving dip in the hotel pool, after waking had us ready for dinner. We were on our own and found ourselves once again in McMeniman's garden for a light meal and game of Old Maid. Later, strolling through the grounds, we came upon a wedding. The magical qualities of a bride just too hard to resist for our budding princess, we allowed Dev to take a peak into the private party for one small glimpse of the newlyweds.

Fueled by a plate of smiley faced pancakes the following morning, the last of our long weekend days was spent with the Werre family at the Oregon Zoo. Without consultation, Daya and Devi ended up adorned in summer dresses, each with braids in their hair. They looked like they could be sisters, flitting and floating through the zoo with leaves for wings. True little friends by this point, they played, sang songs, and bossed each other about.

This was my first of, hopefully, many Indian cultural events that we will attend with other adoptive families in an effort to introduce our daughters to their fascinating roots. The reward of meeting other families and their children added so much richness to our whole experience solidifying our friendship through our extended hand and face to face introductions. This whole weekend leaves me with a lasting impression, much like the mendhi that was drawn on my palm. The design is the lotus flower – whose unfolding petals suggest the expansion of one’s soul, which describes the weekend for me perfectly.

I must give my sincerest kudos to Cheryl and Erik for being our weekend organizers. Your efforts were so much appreciated and made for such a successful time for our families to connect. Thank you so much. Also to everyone we met; the Pfeiffer's, Klobas', Werre's, Merrill Boyer's, Johnson's, Brie and all of your children, we sincerely enjoyed each and every one of you. We can’t wait to experience it all over again next year.