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.