But...why?

Hi!

You know that bit in Love Actually where Hugh Grant fancies Martine McCutcheon and so acts like a plonker and waves both his hands when he's saying hello to her? That's how I feel in beginning with 'hi!'. Awkward.

As I said, this blog will unlikely follow any kind of semblance of order or chronology, but rather be an outburst of random thoughts and events, usually related to my adoption journey...but sometimes not. I will try to write about all of the things I've gone through in the process up until now, however, I had the pleasure of meeting an exceptional woman the other night who deserves writing about.

When I tell people I'm adopting (and I do tell people because even though I might not have been successful, I think it's worth talking about), I'm usually asked why, accompanied by a shocked face and a general disbelief. It's unclear whether this is a cultural thing specific to Peru or Latin America, whether it's a generational thing or whether it's just all people everywhere, but people want to know why I don't want my 'own child'. Forgive me for being so ignorant, but when I adopt my child, whose exactly are they going to be?? I know my baby is out there waiting to come home...it's a powerful piece of knowledge, that. But anyway, back to the 'why'. My answer, after quite a lot of practise now, is that I have known since I had a sense of self that I wanted to be a mum one day and I know now that there are far too many people on this planet and far too many who need a mum. It's as simple as that. I have no desire to give birth whatsoever, single or not. That answer hasn't been adequate for quite a number of people and I'm kind of over explaining myself so really...get raffled! I've had to explain myself to the adoption people themselves over and over again which, when you don't speak the lingo that well, is a challenge!

What a joyous and refreshing change it made then, to meet someone involved with the process whose response was that adopting is a wonderful way to start a family and that she wished to help me in any way she could. This woman, man. She just blew my mind (and my gorgeous friend who accompanied me to the meeting - she's also a mind blowing woman firmly in the inner circle of The Village) and I left feeling unbelievably grateful to have met her and inspired that there are people, even here where the patriarchy reigns supreme, fighting the good fight for these kids and people like me. Did I mention that I'm SINGLE?? She talked us through the whole process and had us hooked on her every word. She spoke slowly, clearly and passionately, offering all kinds of support for when my Tiny Human comes home. She never once asked why I'm doing this or what on Earth I think I'm playing at trying to do it Alone. She just made me feel like this journey is exactly the one I should be on and that it is all going to work out perfectly. I'm under no illusions that this is going to be easy, none at all, but having someone like this incredibly strong and vivacious lady in my corner added fuel to my fire and lifted my hopes right back up again. There's a long road ahead but with people like this on my side, I'm not worried.

In other news, Bob is 8 today. We have spent the day cuddling on the sofa and watching movies and eating chifa. Forever and ever grateful that this little ball of fluff came into my life - Woman's Best Friend.

Not really part 2...

If anyone expected this blog to be ordered, structured, chronological or such, well, you'd be wrong. It's more likely to be chaotic, impulsive, disorganised, a stream of consciousness, spontaneous...kind of how my brain looks.

It would be remiss of me to let this weekend pass by and not comment on it in my new bloggy-style. You see, I've just spent the weekend with nearly 200 teenagers, aged between 11 and 18, building 12 houses for desperately poverty stricken people in Chincha, Peru. Backstory is that there was a huge earthquake (8.0) here in 2007 which killed hundreds and left countless (I really don't know the figures) without a home. A very good friend of mine and a group of his friends went down from Lima and began constructing 'chosas' - houses made out of plants - to give people at least some shelter. 11 years on and there are people who are STILL living like this. No 'proper' shelter, no proper access to running water or electricity. It's mind boggling. I will post some photos tomorrow to give you an idea of the conditions.

Kids getting their build on

This is the running water beside the 'bathroom'

When you live in the bubble that I have been fortunate enough to live in, having been teaching internationally for the past 9 years, the disparity between rich and poor becomes shockingly apparent. I never really knew what class was, growing up in Scotland. I was aware that some people had more than others, but I didn't really think in terms of class as such. Having experienced the upper echelons of society, both here and in Venezuela, it really is Another World. And having spent time volunteering in the lower echelons...well, you just don't know how good you've got it. It occurs to me, quite frequently now, that the ONLY reason I have the life I do is because I was lucky enough to be born where I was born, to the parents I was born to and with the colour of skin that I have; it has very little to do with anything other than luck.

So anyway...this friend of mine has grown the project over the course of the years, taking students down to Chincha to build houses. I think we just finished house number 277 today. I volunteer to be an adult on this exceptional trip, which teaches the kids leadership, collaboration, service, KINDNESS, amongst the gazillions of other things they get out of being sky rocketed out of Their World and smashed quite crassly into The Other. It really is How The Other Half Live. And the feeling I have come away with each and every time is that these children are incredible. They give up their weekend, and sure they have fun and they enjoy camping and being away from their parents and staying up late and all of that, but they work bloody hard! They do manual labour I wouldn't have dreamt of as a teenager. They build a freaking house in 2 days!! They take orders from their peers, they lift heavy walls, they don't have all of the creature comforts that they are so bandaged up in in their regular life, and they build an actual house for a family that don't have one.

Putting the panels together

Always a wee dog friend

And we have a house, people!

My favourite slide...but I fails this trip. Too tired to climb up!!

People criticise this project for all kinds of reasons. Often they haven't been to work on it. Sometimes they think rich kids showing up is a smack in the face. Sometimes they just moan coz that's what they're good at. But I am back from a weekend that's left me exhausted but with my heart bursting with pride and love for this - well done, you little stars. You gave someone a home today. xxxx

Favourite parts:
'Are you a Gap student?'
'You're like the fun mum from Mean Girls'
...I think you'll find she's a 'wannabe fun mum'...
'Yeah, you are ACTUALLY fun.'
Kids all dancing to a local live band in the plaza, waitresses from various restaurants serving shots of wine samples all round the plaza. Marianne looks on, bemused, thinking 'someone needs to tell that waitress these kids are not allowed to drink'.  Then realises, 'SHIT! I'M the adult here!'

The beginning...

Hi! Ugh, I hate that...will come back and fix that later…

And so it starts…

My adoption journey has been, to date, a tumultuous, frustrating, emotionally draining and painful experience. I’m a single, 35 year old Scottish woman living (ALONE!) in Lima, Peru and I have been navigating the government adoption process myself (ALL ALONE! WITHOUT A HUSBAND! DID I MENTION?!) for the past 18 months. It strikes me now that I should have perhaps begun sharing my experiences earlier on in the process when I was tearing my hair out, crying, shouting at people, pleading with admin staff to help, bawling at my friends through the medium of What’s App, actual phone call, in person or other such interface. It may have proven to be cathartic…and may have saved my poor friends the wrath of Marianne.

But here I am now. Single. Alone. Desperate to become a Mum. Well, this is what the adoption people see when they look at me. In fact, I feel far from Alone or Single. I’m surrounded by a close circle of fierce women; some with families who are equally part of my team, some like me, some who don’t choose motherhood but support me, some with families that have turned out different than they planned. And then there is my team who are on the other side of the world from me. In fact, there are people on my team all over the world. From Australia to Venezuela, from Florida to my hometown in Scotland, from my Bestest Friend In The World at home to My First Wife in Italy, from my favourite city Edinburgh to Manchester, London, Dubai, Switzerland and so many, many places in between. I don’t feel alone. I have my village and I’m ready for this. Or as ready as a person can ever be to have their world turned upside down by a Tiny Human coming home (can you tell I’m a Shonda fan?).

The other reason that I’m not Alone is that I have an EXTREMELY loving Furry Family. Bee, my cat, came into my life one hot summer’s night in Koh Samui, Thailand. Well, to be fair, ALL the nights were hot and summer-like. She was a little kitten, walking around our table at a restaurant called Boss. My friend decided she’d like to adopt this friendly, flea-bitten bag of bones and my good pal, Johno, went to speak to the owner of the restaurant in his amazing Thai (no joke - my British ear can’t hear those sounds but Johno nailed it!) and so she was coming home. By the end of the evening, this ‘friend’ decided she no longer wanted the kitten. I couldn’t leave her. I don’t even freaking well like cats. And so started the beginning of the Furry Family. We named her Little Bee because we found her at Boss (B…) and she was a girl. How unbelievably anti-feminist of me. She is THE Boss. I digress. 2 weeks later, Bob arrived. He was the runt of a litter from one of the other teachers at my school. It was love at first sight. My Best Friend In The World and I had decided when we were around 14 that I would one day have a Dalmatian called Bob (our nickname for her and her Daddy’s name!). Bob is most certainly not a Dalmatian but he’s black and white and the best dog a girl could ever wish for. He’ll be 8 on 31st August. I suppose this is where it all began.