It just all got REAL

WHAT a week. A friend made fun of me for keeping writing 'words can't describe' so I won't be doing that again. Or at least I'll try not to. 

I left off with 'them' having said YES to me being a match for this wee love on the priority list. After that, I obviously emailed them about 20 times to find out what was next and if I was allowed to come and see his file again. They said I had to come into the office and submit yet another letter to say I wanted to see his file in digital format. So I legged it (in a taxi, Flinstone style) to the office to submit said letter. Very used to this whole 'you write a letter then bring it in person' thing now and also to the new security guard who WILL NOT ALLOW DOCUMENTS TO BE SUBMITTED AFTER 4PM. When you finish work at 3.30pm and Lima traffic wants to try and strip you of every last shred of sanity and then you're faced with someone who has a little bit of power and WILL BLOODY WELL USE IT, COME HELL OR HIGH WATER, you learn how to lie. The lovely receptionist has no issue taking my documents after 4pm, but this here man living in a man's world will not permit it. So, obviously I said I had an appointment. 

I sat waiting for about 20 minutes (normal and no problem - the news here is quite fascinating at the moment) to then be asked if I'd brought my USB. Ehhhh, no. Why, WHY, wouldn't you tell me I needed a USB if I needed a freaking USB?? So off I legged it back to Wong (who doesn't love Wong; it has EVERYTHING), to get a USB. Obviously, you can't buy the electronics at the electronic desk; you have to get a bit of paper from, I swear to everything, the slowest guy ever, then go to the checkout. Then go back and collect USB...which obviously wasn't ready waiting because obviously the 3 guys at that wee till stood there joking with each other, with no customers. I was silently screaming...

Legged it back to the office, waited another while and then down she came with the file and actually took me into a meeting room this time. She apologised for the delay in answering my many, many emails - these people are like any government organisation - overworked and underpaid and way understaffed. I apologised for my overzealous approach to adoption. We laughed. She answered all my questions and reiterated how sure I had to be about adopting my wee person because lots of people decide when they actually meet a child with these type of needs that it is too much. I knew I wouldn't be that person but I reassured her I would slow down and calm down. HAHAHAHA. 

So the next part was a meeting with the carers, psychologist and social worker. I took my lovely friend, who has been through this herself, for support, for translation and to hold my hand while I listened to the information that only made me want this Tiny Human even more. We saw a video and both tried to keep it together as we both fell in love (well, I fell even more in love). I knew the moment I saw the photograph and read the file on Wednesday 5th September.

I've met my Tiny Human twice now, submitted the letter to request to adopt and am now waiting for the consejo to meet and decide for the final time that I'm the right mummy. Meetings will be for another post. We are almost there, much, MUCH faster than I ever thought would happen and I have never, ever felt more sure of anything. There's a big, long road ahead of us but, like I said, 'to live will be an awfully big adventure'. Yeah, I didn't say it, but I think of this so often. 

I can't wait for our adventure to begin. 

After the workshops came the ficha

What's a ficha, I hear you say?! Yes, I didn't really know either. But...hmmm...digging deep on the rubbish memory and the TRAZILLIONS of paperwork I have submitted in the last 21 months of this process, I think that this first part was like a mini biography. Who I am (er...have you got a while??), why I want to adopt (people are really, really fascinated by this one), who my family are, photographs of everyone and my home and obviously Bob, Bee and Bella. It was actually quite fun putting it together - like a brochure: Come and be part of Maz's family! We're really fun! And we are. 

There was all these weird date rules with that. Like, after the final workshop, we had to wait one month before we could get the letter to say make this file. Then that had to be handed in on a specific date one month later. Then came the medical bit. That was an experience to behold. So, perhaps due to a teeny, tiny misunderstanding on account of the language barrier, I thought that I had to go to a government hospital to get the MILLIONS of exams and blood tests and psych tests (this one needs its own blog post: astonishing process). In my defence, the pyschologist at the Ministry gave me a website to go on to check out all the hospitals I could go to! So I duly went in search of said hospitals, accompanied by my lovely friend who agreed to chaufeur me around and translate, should the need arise, for the first lot. We went to no less than 5 clinics in one day, trying to find somewhere that had the correct tests. They just didn't have them. Government funding. No can do. As a result, I spent what felt like years in one place, going back and forth, missing loads of time from work and mainly being unsuccessful. Once I'd had the tests (STOP STICKING MY ARM FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY), I had to go back a week to 10 days later to collect a thing that said come back tomorrow to collect the results. WHAAAAAA? No entiendo. But come back I did. And again. And again. I cried. I pleaded. I shouted. I swore. In both languages. Eventually, I got what I needed...or so I thought. 

That whole experience taught me new levels of empathy, frustration, tolerance and patience in equal measure. I live a very, VERY priviledged life in my adopted country and I'm thankful every day. Sneaking a glimpse at what the majority of this population have to go through to get basic medical care was both harrowing and humbling. Never again will I take the NHS for granted, nor my own private health care that comes with my job. If anyone is in for trying to make a dent on the inequality, especially in developing countries, holler at me. It's madness, utter madness, that some people have their own helicopter and some people don't have electricity, water or health care. MAD.NESS. That's a whole entire other story but it was part of this journey and so it had to be written about. 

Waiting, waiting...

Can't actually describe the nerves pulsing through my veins right now, but I'm going to try because it's like therapy, this blogging malarky. I used to be a bit of a thesp, you know. All that jazz and am dram and singing and stuff...and the FEAR that comes with going on a stage to sing in front of people; where your legs are literally shaking, your hands are dripping with sweat and you're wondering why on Earth you thought this was a wise idea...that feels like a walk in the park comparatively. Actually, recently my face has started to shake when I go and sing. My actual face. Anyway, not sure most people would normally compare waiting for news on your adoption to singing on a stage but there we go. I'm not most people and I'm definitely not normal. 

Today I have a meeting with all the people who are currently looking after 'my' baby. This is the Big Question Time. This wee love has lots of schizzle going on, as expected with any child who has suffered trauma, and I am going to go and find out what the current situation is. After having read the file, I realised the last assessment was 6 months ago and a lot can change in a Tiny Human's life in 6 months. Also, I don't care. My village are being an INCREDIBLE support during this exceptionally exciting but terrifying time (as 'they' could still say no...) but I'm being met with other people's fears and concerns about my choice to adopt a child with special needs. I suppose I understand on some level that perhaps it seems like a huge undertaking, especially as I'm on my own, but I just know that this is the right path for me. I've been passionate about special needs for a long time and spent 3 years getting a Masters in Inclusion and SEN. Not saying for a second that this will prepare me entirely for what's to come, but I'm walking towards this and choosing it with my eyes wide open. As long as I can provide the love and care that my Tiny Human needs, I don't think anything else matters. This is my choice and I'm absolutely certain this is the right path. BRING ME MY BABY!

They said...

...YES! 

Yesterday was spent pretty much in tears the whole day. The actual whole day. I went to the office in the morning to be handed a letter confirming I've been deemed 'favorable' to be matched with this Tiny Human. This doesn't mean he's mine yet, as far as I understand, which has proven as challenging as the lead up to this monumental occasion. I have a piece of paper, given to me in the reception of the office with a casual 'just sign here' and 'here's what's next', whilst I bawled my brains out and tried to utter words in any language, that says I'm allowed to proceed to the next stage. What that stage might be is still a bit blurry...

I think, I think, that I will go to observe him in his home over the next 10 working days. This will be the time for all the big questions, reviewing his file and seeing him maybe more than once. Then after that, again, from what I've understood, I then submit the letter to request to adopt him. From there, I've literally no idea. I'm orbiting the solar system at the moment, whilst trying to figure out what it is I've actually to do next and not getting very far and trying really hard not to get my hopes right up there that this is my baby just in case anything goes wrong...but...but...I think I've found my boy. There aren't words to describe this feeling so I'm not even going to try but suffice to say, my heart is bursting. 

More soon...

The Workshops! (read: taking my mind off the current situ)

The current situ is that I am awaiting the decision as to whether I am being deemed 'favourable' or 'not favourable' as a match for one little poppet on the priority list. I was supposed to have this decision last week. Obviously not. Then I went to the office to ask what was going on, having had the next priority list sent to me (and under time constraints to get letters of 'interest', for want of a better term, to them) to be told that this child is especially special due to a diagnosis he has. I don't want to go into too much detail because a) maybe it's not allowed and b) my heart is in my mouth waiting. So that was the delay. However, the official paper has been produced with the decision, it's just waiting for a signature. I was assured that I would be telephoned TODAY and told. So I've emailed to be told that it will be tomorrow but that the 'process is going forward well'. WTAF? 

Any time this has happened in the past, this has been the exact cycle of emotions: anger, frustration, shouting, whatsapping, crying, more anger then acceptance. It happens quite quickly now...I can be back to 'cool' in about an hour. Just don't tell me that my life might be changing today if it's not going to be today. If it's 'maybe next week', just please say 'maybe next week'. That is much more manageable. I can cope with that. Knowing that TODAY IS THE DAY is positively torturous. Anyway, today is not the day. Hopefully tomorrow will be the day. Send me all the good luck fairies please. I'm sure he's the one. I just need them to think that, too. 

So...the workshops. Goodness, it's so long ago, I can barely recall. Essentially, they were made up of all prospective adoptive parents and it was great that there were 2 single woman in my group, although I was the youngest in the room by at least 10 years. I found that quite shocking, actually. They were run by a psychologist who basically worked around a theme each week, from the type of circumstances these abandoned children may have come from to the types of problems they may encounter in the future. They were 2.5 hours each, once a week, for 4 weeks. I was prepared for the language barrier; I was ill prepared for the cultural barrier. The classes started with a round robin of 'how everyone was feeling' and reflections on the previous week etc. It genuinely shocked me how much people could talk about what they thought and were feeling in front of a group of 10 strangers! Natually, when they got to me, my answers were more or less 'si, estoy bien, gracias'. That's it, folks! That's all you're getting! I'm British, for crying out loud!! We don't do all this sharing your feelings malarky!  

Looking back, I'm not sure if they were that helpful, truth be told. It was all too 'pie in the sky' for me - this might have happened and this could be what happens as a result. I guess I thought that if you were in this group, you'd maybe have a bit of a knowledge base of possible reasons children end up on the adoption register. Perhaps that was a bit judgemental of me, actually. But anyway, they did cover a broad range of heartbreaking, too close to home scenarios that only strengthened my desire to continue on. However, there was some false info given. Did I mention I was single?? (that getting old yet?) Because, apparently, because I am a single woman, I would ONLY be matched with a child over 5 years. I confirmed that I'd understood that with the man beside me who spoke a bit of English...yes, yes, you won't get a child under 5 years old because you're single. Say what?? Thinking perhaps that this wasn't the best platform to get into the why the actual this would be the case, I saved this nugget to email the ministry contact. Guess what? That's not true at all! Single people have exactly the same process and rights as married people! Isn't that lovely? Not ostracised after all! 

Anyway. I'm late for Spanish, this is not my best work, but it is therapeutic to get some of this hammered out while I wait for those powers that be to tell me if that's maybe my baby or not. 

Maz out.