What We Went Through: Part 2

I'm sorry it's been so long. I was thinking about this site the other day, and I promised myself I would update it so that I culd remember it all. I thought that I would never be able to forget, but those days are starting to become hazy as I've settled into my family.

In my last post, I had arrived in Karachi. I got off the plane, went through Immigration, collected my luggage and met up with my mom. I had spent the last 36 hours in transit, and I was exhausted (however, I wasn't airsick at all. A first!) It was 4am local time, and I was a little nervous because I had never been in Karachi alone before. My mother and I would be staying with distant relatives. They weren't even our relatives; they were cousins of my sister-in-law's cousins. They lived in a poorer part of the city. My mother had told me tales of seeing a van set on fire in front of her after the driver was beaten up, and how the locals would casually talk about dead bodies in the streets. I was nervous about being in that area, but the warm welcome of our host family help me deal with it all. The family was warm and welcoming, and they did all that they could to help us out. The mother in the family went with us everywhere and helped us in every way that she could. The daughter and the son were equally welcoming and gracious. I will never forget them, and I plan on taking Samir back to see them.

I went to the Edhi center about three hours after reaching our temporary home. It was Monday, October 11. I was nervous, to say the least. I waited in this small room, on a chair in the back. There were other women there, and we were waiting for Mrs. Edhi to come down from her living quarters above the clinic. She came down promptly at 8. My mom waited outside because she didn't want Mrs. Edhi to associate her with me, and deny me again. I got up the courage, and sat down in front of her. I told her who I was and why I was there. I told her that I left my husband and my job to plead my case. She exchanged a glance with her assistant Almas, and asked me why I gave her the number of an unreliable person. I apologized and begged her for another chance. She said that I'll have to wait, and to come back on Wednesday. We went back home and slept. After we woke up, we made a plan for the following day. On Tuesday, I called the Edhi center and let them know I was still interested and if there was any news. They told me not yet, and be patient. After that, my mother, Auntie and I went all over Karachi, visiting the Hope Foundation and private doctors for a lead on children who were waiting to be adopted. Even though we were unsuccessful, we still felt better because we knew we were at least being proactive.

Wednesday morning (October 13), we returned to the Edhi center with a letter from my kids and pictures of my classroom in hand. I showed them to Mrs Edhi and as she was flipping through the pictures, she nodded to Almas and told her to take me up the stairs on the end of the room. My heart started pounding and my head felt light. Auntie and I went up, and we were told to wait in a small room beyond the hospital beds they had set up for women giving birth. About ten minutes later, a woman came in with a bundle in her arms and laid a baby girl in my lap. I started crying. Almas asked me if she was acceptable, and I remember answering her with something like How could she not be? I named her Maryam Fatima Bhalli. Auntie went down the stairs to tell my mom and I cried, said a prayer over her and signed some papers. Our picture was taken and I went down the stairs to my mom. She was already crying, saying that she was finally a nani (maternal grandmother.) Thanks to my lawyer in Karachi, Tahera, I knew I had to take her for tests to make sure she was fine. We went to the City Hospital, where they took her blood. They wouldn't let me stay in the room while they did so, and my heart pinged when I heard her cry. We stopped on the way home for formula and a couple of bottles. I could't stop looking at her. Once we got back, I called home and sent out an email, sharing our wonderful news!

We took Maryam to the local doctor to have her physically checked out. The doctor said that she was about 2 to 3 months old, and that she looked healthy enough, even though she was a little small. However, something was bothering me. I had a feeling that we should call the lab and see how her tests turned out. I had my mom call around 10pm, and we received some horrible news. Her blood had come back positive for HIV and Hepatitis C. We were all devastated. My mother and I spent the night crying. I called Tahera the next morning to ask her advice, and she said call Edhi. I did, and they said bring her back that afternoon. I will never forget having to turn her over, and how my mother and I were crying as Maryam left us. On the way back, I remember turning to my mom and telling her that my lap felt empty. Depressed, we went back and fell asleep around 1pm. Around 5, Sohail called to talk to me. I was half asleep, so I didn't realize that the call waiting was going nuts. When I finally figured it out, I noticed that it was my brother. I passed the phone to my mom, and she flipped to the other line. I could hear my brother as he yelled "You're going to lose another one! The Edhis called! There's a boy!! WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING THE PHONE??" My mom called Almas, who asked her if we wanted a boy. My mom told her YES, and that we would be there in an hour. The minute she hung up, we were out the door, half asleep and going nuts as we grabbed a taxi, not even bothering to take the time to bargain. Soon we were on our way...

What We Went Through: Part 1

We started the process in April. That's when I screwed up my courage and called the Edhi New York branch for some information. They told me that Bilquis Edhi, the wife of the man who began the entire philanthropic empire and the person in charge of the adoptions, was there and told me to call her.  I did, and she made me feel very positive about the chances of adopting. That same day, I called around and found an organization to conduct our home study. By July, we had the home study approval and the I-600A on its way to USCIS. We also had a complete application for Edhi.

The application itself was a trip. For an organization that helped millions of people, and whose founders were still deep in the trenches, the form was rather simple. It looked amateurish, even. It had the usual questions about our income, job descriptions, address, age, etc. But it also had an area to indicate what gender we wanted and what our desired skin color was. Of course, we put down that we didn't care. I had thought S. would have had a preference for gender (especially since the desired sex is male, preferably light-skinned), but I was wrong. He made a really good point-we would have no say in what we had if we had conceived, so why should we choose now?

We did our research, and found out that we could make the largest impact on the organization if we came to drop off our application rather than mailing it in. So, seeing as we had to go to Pakistan in July for my sister-in-law's wedding, we decided to take a day and go in person, especially since it was only a two-hour flight. After late flights and a crazy taxi driver, we made it to the office. It was in the worst possible area in Karachi, which made sense because they want to help people who need it. The office was small and crowded, and you could tell that any donated money was not being used to decorate it. We dropped off the paperwork, chatted for a bit, and then stopped to visit my mother-in-law's cousin before we headed back to Islamabad. We had been told that we needed a local contact to come and pick up the baby once one became available, and she was the only person we knew in the area. She served us lunch and agreed to help us.

The way things work for this particular orphanage is that you need to bother them to show your commitment. You have to call once a week (at least) and ask how things were going and if there was any news.You also had to call between 8-10:00 am, Pakistani time. There was no guarantee that you would actually talk to Mrs. Edhi or her assistant Almas, but you had to keep trying until you did. I heard stories about how they figure out how badly you want a baby by being mean and rude on the phone. If they scare you away, then that means you didn’t want a baby so badly.

Soon after coming home, our local contact told us that her brother (who was living with her) had Stage 4 stomach cancer, and she couldn't help us. (Even he didn't know he was terminal-she was hiding it from him so he wouldn't be devastated.) I was assured by a local lawyer (who I now count as a friend) that it would be ok for my mom to be my contact even though she lived over a thousand miles away from the orphanage (she also said that she would help out and get the baby if my mom couldn't get there within a day.) I called Edhi and told Almas that we had a new number and contact, and why. She said fine, and I told her my mom would be calling her to give her the details.

My mom called twice a week and got the same reply each time: “Nothing yet. Just pray.” After about three months, my mom called and was told to call back later. She was also asked if we wanted a boy or a girl. My mom told Almas that she didn’t care. She didn’t get a chance to call later that day, but called the next morning instead. Almas told her that she had talked to my mom, and that she had said she didn’t want the baby because she couldn’t pick it up! My mom told her that she hadn’t said that, and that it must be a mistake.  Almas apologized, and said she would talk to her later. A week later, it happened again. The only thing we could figure was that they called the old contact and that she refused. (Coincidentally, the first contact called my mother-in-law that day and said that there was no news from Edhi and they told her to wait.)

My mom decided to fly to Karachi and visit the center personally. She did, and was told by Almas to come back the next morning. She called me, and we were so excited because we thought it was going to be good news! Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. She was reamed out by Mrs. Edhi herself and told that we were off the list and that we were never getting a baby because we had turned down two children. S. and I were devastated. We decided that the best thing to do was for me to go to Pakistan and straighten it all out myself.  We bought my ticket on Thursday, October 7 and I left that Saturday morning.

I’m exhausted, and Samir needs a feeding, so I’ll continue this next time!

Thank God for Mom

I really don't know how I would have been able to handle all of this without my mom. Who knew that belly buttons kept bleeding/leaking even after the cord fell off? Not me. I've also learned the best way to swaddle, how to properly burp a child, and the importance of keeping an infant's stomach and back warm and covered. I've also learned not to freak out every single minute of the day (that one I'm still working on.) I have to say, though, I think I might have been more freaked out if my mom weren't here.


Samir has been colicky for the past three nights. He hasn't been sleeping well, and as a result, neither have I. Last night was major. Poor kid couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, and couldn't stop screaming. I felt so helpless and powerless. Again, mom came to the rescue. She saved the day with a pacifier and a hot water bottle to the abdomen. She knew how to burp him to maximize gas output, and she didn't freak out when the vomiting started.


I seriously need to stop arguing with her. From now on, even if she says to coat him in chicken fat for his skin, I'll do it. 

Becoming an Expert and a Milestone

I can now change a diaper in less than thirty seconds! Taking my cue from Alton Brown, I prep all of my hardware beforehand. Wipes on my right side, opened diaper on my left, and a small plastic bag above Samir's head for the dirty stuff. In the middle of all of this is the plastic changing pad. However, despite all of these precautions, I experienced something I hoped I never would, no matter how common it is for the mothers of baby boys. Yes, I was peed on. Twice. Twice today. So, I guess I hit a milestone. My boy peed on me.

I also had to do something that I hoped I would never have to do. Samir's nose is a little runny, and it was impacting his milk consumption. So, I used a nasal thingy that sucks the mucus out of a baby's nose. It wasn't as gross as I was thinking. I just didn't look too close at the tip of the bulb as I cleaned it out. All I need now is to get pooped on and the triad of grossness will be complete! 

How it all began

     S. and I never thought we would adopt a child. It wasn't until two miscarriages and years of negative pregnancy tests that we considered it an option. It was actually S. who broached the subject. 

   

     "What do you think about adopting?" he asked one morning after yet another single blue line."Look how much we love our cat. Why couldn't we love another human in the same way?" He clinched it with "Maybe we're meant to be parents to a child that doesn't already have them."

     I had to think about it. In my heart, I wanted to be pregnant and deliver. I wanted to be able to look at my child and see my family. I wanted to be able to say "Oh, she gets that from my dad." However, what I wanted most of all was to be a mom. That trumped it.

     I started researching, which is what I always do when faced with something new and scary (it must be the potential lawyer in me.) S. and I both agreed that we wanted a Pakistani baby. It was around April 2010 that I looked into adoption agencies in Pakistan, and found The Edhi Foundation. I called the New York office, and the woman who single-handedly runs the orphanage was there. I talked to her, and she made me feel like I was doing the right thing. I found a good place for getting the homestudy done, and it all started. We went through interviews, medical exams, awkward questions from ill-intentioned people, and spent a ton of money on application fees and other expenses. There was a lot of heartache and tension (for other posts) and lots and lots of sleepless nights. However, it's done. Now, only six months later, S. and I are parents! There's a whole new level of worry and tension now (checking that he's breathing every ten minutes will go away soon, right?) and the sleepless nights continue. But it's worth it. My God, it was worth it all.