Adoption Update

It's been awhile since I shared the latest on our adoption, so I wanted to give everyone an update. First things first, our HOME STUDY IS DONE. For anyone who has ever completed an adoption, they know how time-consuming that process can be. But, after tracking down all kinds of paperwork, and getting everything notarized (including all but stalking our physicians until they finally got around to notarizing our physicals), we can cross the home study off of our List of Things to Accomplish.

We are currently working on completing our dossier. I was told the word 'dossier' means 'paper chase,' and they aren't kidding. But we're more than halfway through getting those papers notarized, and then we have to get them apostilled (whatever that means). We are submitting our application and home study to the USCIS (United States Citizenship and Immigration Services), and when we receive approval from them (please, God), we will mail that approval with our completed dossier to our adoption agency, American World, and then we wait for a referral.

A HUGE thanks to everyone who has written referrals, donated financially, given us advice, answered endless questions, and helped support us in this journey. We feel SO incredibly blessed by all the help we have received.

It feels like the last few months have been filled with completing forms, signing our names, waiting for papers and paying fees. But, while the process has seemed at times daunting, overwhelming, exhausting, and insert-word-here, it's already worth it. It's worth it because we get a daughter through this. A daughter who needs a forever family as much as we need a daughter. A daughter to us, and a sister to Reagan.

Some people have asked why we're doing this, why we're spending the money, and one or two even brought up our ages. Some have brought up stories of children who were adopted and they turned out a mess. All valid concerns.

Yes, it's taking a lot of time and a lot of money. Yes, we are fully aware of how much it will change the dynamics of our family. Yes, we are aware that Reagan will no longer get all of the attention. Yes, we are aware of what our ages will be when she graduates from high school. Yes, we could use the money we are spending to buy a bigger house, a nicer car, a more lavish vacation, or put more in savings. Yes, there is no guarantee that she will magically morph into a perfect, straight-A student who smiles, is courteous and goes on to save the world.

But none of that really matters in the bigger picture. Sure, we could afford nicer things, have a more comfortable life. But we would do it at the expense of her life, literally. Orphans, and I'd add especially orphans in India, are typically not treated well. She has no concept of family. She may or may not be fed every day. She may have been left on the street, or her birth parents may have died. She knows loneliness. She knows abandonment. She knows hunger. She knows thirst. She knows fear. She knows pain.

(Photo credit click here)

But what she doesn't know is love. That unconditional love from a parent that I have to believe is an inherent right of every human being. She doesn't know what it's like to have a mother soothe her fears in the middle of the night. She doesn't know what it's like to be fed before she feels the aching pangs of a missed meal, or two -- or more. She doesn't have anyone to celebrate her milestones, like rolling over, sitting up, or her first laugh -- and perhaps she hasn't achieved them yet, because there's no one to help her, to teach her.

No one is snapping pictures and filling out her baby book. No one is singing silly songs to her, or letting her bang pots and pans at their feet while they cook her dinner. No one is hanging her crayon scribbles on the refrigerator. No one is taking her to the pediatrician to make sure she is healthy. No one is tickling her belly during bath time, or buying her a pretty new dress.

No one.

No one.

No. One.

There are more than 153 million orphans across the world. Let that number sink in. 153 million. To put that in perspective, there are currently about 319 million people in the United States. Sobering.

According to Orphan Hope International, 14,505,000 children age out of the system before they are adopted. 38,493 orphans age out every day. Every 2.2 seconds, to be exact, another child somewhere in the world is on the streets.  

On the streets, without anyone monitoring them, looking out for them, making sure they are fed and clothed. They are on the streets, where they are easy prey for trafficking, kidnapping, prostitution, and the list goes on and on.

60% of the girls become prostitutes, and 70% of the boys lead a life of crime. Because no one loved them. Because no one took them in. Because no one gave up a nice car, a fancy vacation or a bigger home to give them a home. Because no one stepped up.

Really, if I can be frank, I think the conversation should be less about why we are doing this, and more about why more people aren't. I mean, I get that not everyone is in a position to physically travel halfway around the world (or, maybe even around the street corner) to adopt a child, but everyone can do something. Everyone can donate to an orphanage, send supplies, gifts, help a family who adopted or is adopting. Everyone can give up one nice meal a month to help a child get a meal.

My husband says that he hopes that, if nothing else, we show others that normal people can do this. Normal people with normal houses, normal jobs and normal incomes can literally save a child's life, can literally change a child's history, a child's legacy, a child's future.

So yes, it's going to be hard. It's going to be very, very, very hard. It's going to be hard on us, and it's going to be hard on Reagan. But, as his pediatrician says, it will be difficult for Reagan, but it will be good for him. I don't want to raise a child who thinks the world revolves around him. I want to raise a child who understands that not everyone is born with the things we take for granted. I want him to have a heart to help those less fortunate. I want him to see his parents take a stand, over and over and over again, for those who can't stand for themselves.

I can no longer shut my eyes and pretend that someone else will take care of the orphans. Because they won't. It's not someone else's problem. It's mine.
 
"I don't want a flame, I want a fire. I wanna be the one who stands up and says, 'I'm gonna do something.'" ~Matthew West, 'Do Something'

To help us bring her home, click here, and in the bottom right-hand corner, put 'Johnny and Gayle Thompson' in the space for Designated Family. Checks can be made payable to AWAA, and sent to America World Adoption Association, Attn: Accounting Dept., 6723 Whittier Ave., Suite 202, McLean, VA 22101, along with a form that can be found here. Checks must be designated for the Eternal Family Fund. Or, you can donate to our GoFundMe page.

Brittany Maynard's Choice to Die

 (Facebook)

Brittany Maynard has become quite famous over the last few weeks,  not for anything she has done, but for what she is about to do. The 29-year-old, who was diagnosed with a deadly form of brain cancer, has decided to end her own life on Nov. 1, in the state of Oregon, one of five states that offers terminally ill patients the right to "die with dignity," as the law puts it. (Read her story, and watch her share her decision, here).

Wow.

Nov. 1 happens to be my birthday, so the day I celebrate another year, she will most likely be taking her last breath.

She made the decision because of the way doctors say she would die. Already she is experiencing seizures, debilitating headaches and loss of some motor control, and that will only get worse. Earlier this year, doctors gave her about six months to live, although they said because her body is strong, she could live beyond that. But, she would be suffering in hospice care for weeks, maybe months, while the brain tumor slowly robbed her of her life.

She was newly married and trying to start a family with her husband, Dan, when she received the diagnosis. It's a lot to take in.

Since Brittany went public with her decision, people from all over the world have voiced their opinion. Some say her decision is brave, while others are begging her to let the disease run its course, and not pre-determine her own date with death.

I don't have an opinion on whether it is more correct, physically or spiritually, to "die with dignity" or let nature have its way. Or, I do have an opinion, but it's just that -- my opinion. I haven't walked where she's walked. I'm not 29, newly married and facing a short lifetime of intense suffering before my life ends.

But I have been a witness to death, and while it can be unkind and unfair, there is beauty in dying.

And there's also a lot of ugly too.

After my mother died in 2004, from complications from a benign brain tumor, I realized that watching someone suffer is infinitely more difficult than watching them die. Death, at least for her, was an almost welcome reprieve from the pain she endured. But while there was plenty of sorrow in those final days, there was also some measure of joy. Although it's impossible to fully comprehend the finality of death in those moments, I remember being acutely aware that I needed to soak in each minute with her, painful as they were.

I suppose, since Brittany has chosen Nov. 1 as the day to die, which falls a few days after her husband's birthday, she and her loved ones are already receiving that gift.

"When my suffering becomes too great, I can say to all those I love, 'I love you; come be by my side, and come say goodbye as I pass into whatever's next,'" she tells CNN.  I will die upstairs in my bedroom with my husband, mother, stepfather and best friend by my side and pass peacefully."

I can't help but think often of how Brittany and her loved ones must feel. Over and over again, I find myself putting myself in her heartbreaking shoes. She has said she still wants to visit the Grand Canyon. What would I want to do, if I knew I only had a few more weeks to live?

Who would I talk to? Where would I visit? What would I say to someone if I knew it was the last conversation I would have with them?

What would I do differently without the luxury of time?

I have no idea.

But the reality is, in some ways, Brittany is fortunate. Unless she changes her mind, she knows her last day. She knows her end date. She is doing it on her terms.

I want to live like that now. Not in a fatalistic way, but with the knowledge that none of us know when our last day is, really. Even Brittany could have an accident, or have a cancer-related occurrence that could end her life today. Or tomorrow.

Because of my faith, I firmly believe that our last breath here is followed by our first breath in Heaven. I've thought of that moment often, what it must be like to walk out of this Earth and onto the streets of gold. It's a moment I'm sure we can't even begin to comprehend.

But I don't want to focus on death -- Brittany's or my mother's or mine. I want to focus on living. Whether we agree with Brittany or disagree, we can learn from her. We can choose to make every day, every moment count. We can cherish time with our loved ones. We can place people above things, and memories above money. We can allow what's really important to us to guide the choices we make.

If I knew that Nov. 1 was going to be my last day on Earth, I would do so much different. Maybe I should do it different anyway.

I hope Brittany gets a miracle. I hope she visits the doctors one more time and the tumor is gone. I hope she gets 50 years to live. Maybe more.

But whether she dies today or on Nov. 1 or she gets to live to have children and watch them grow up, I hope her story changes the way I live my life.

We Can't Have It All

Last week, I worked a lot. Like, all day, every day, for four days. While I've worked all but two months of Reagan's life, I'm now working more, and I love it. I love what I do, I love the experiences I get to have, and I love that I get to work usually from home.

But suffice it to say, last week was a challenge, albeit a mostly happy one. My husband was home in the mornings, and then my in-laws took over so I could get everything done. It was, I reasoned, the best of both worlds.

On Thursday, I was working from a coffee shop, and, while I was waiting on some information to finish an article, started a blog about being a working mother, and the difficulties, challenges and successes of filling that role. I waxed poetic about balance, having a hands-on father, splitting household chores and hoping I raised a son, and eventually a daughter, who see both their mother and their father worked hard to support them, while making sure we both had plenty of hands on time with them as well.

Blah blah blah blah blah.

I admit, I was feeling pretty good about life when I wrote it. I left to go run some errands, came home, and turned my article in early because I was itching to spend some time with my little boy. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I thought we'd play outside, maybe even go to the park.

I scooped his sweet little toddler self up and told him Mommy was ready to PLAY!! He asked if he could watch something on my computer. I said no, we were going to go outside to PLAY!!

He said, and I quote, "Mommy, go bye bye again. I want my Daddy back."

Just to make sure I got the message loud and clear, he repeated it for me. About 20 times.

And then I trashed the blog.

The truth is, we can't have it all. Or, at least not all at the same time.

I wrote before, in my knee-jerk reaction to an article by Amy Glass that crucified women who chose to stay home and raise their family, that whatever choice we make as mothers is for us the right choice, whether it's to take on a grueling job or to be a stay-at-home mom. When I said that, I was coming from a place of anger that another woman would dare criticize the choices that I make, and ones that my friends make.

But, now that I'm balancing working more with wanting to have time with my sweet son, I'm even more aware of just how challenging this balance is, and accepting the fact that there will rarely be a moment where everything swings in perfect harmony.

The working mother balance is not new to this generation. It's been going on for centuries, but at least we're finally getting some company. For the first time, at least that I am aware, the conversation is shifting to mothers and fathers. After Esquire posted an article on their website last year, saying that the issue is one that affects men and women, Hal Edward Runkel shared his thoughts on the balance teeter-totter that both parents face on the 'Today' show.

“It’s this ridiculous notion that we’re supposed to have everything we want at all the time we want it and that’s never going to happen,” Runkel said. “What we have to do is… prioritize. Figure out: what do you want most? Because failure is whenever we sacrifice what we want most for what we want right now.”

My husband and I have had many, many conversations about how we will continue to balance in the future. We don't have any answers yet, but we're open to exploring all options, however unconventional they might be. He shared a great article by writer Peter Mountford with me last week (read it here), about the struggle men face when they choose to stay home so their wife can work.

"The reality is that no parent I know—regardless of gender—has the luxury of making a choice about how he or she will balance the demands of work and childcare," he says. "The decision isn’t heroic or cowardly. It isn’t even a decision. No, this here—this is economics."

So, the truth is I work because I want to work, but also because I need to work. But, also, because I want to work. And for most of the time I was working last week, I was happy and fulfilled and thrilled in a way that, much as I love my son, I don't get while coloring outside with chalk or watching him go down the sliding board or putting a puzzle together.

I'm not going to lie -- I shed a few tears when he told me he wanted "my daddy" back. But, now that I'm several days removed from it, I see that I can choose to be grateful that he has such a wonderful, hands-on father. I am thankful that we have, so far, been able to avoid the high cost of child care while both contributing to our household finances. And someday, he too will understand the sacrifices I made, and the sacrifices we as a family made, which hurt in the moment but are better when considering the bigger picture.

I can't spend every moment with him. I get way more time with him than parents in some careers have. I don't get as much time with him as some other people have. But we can't have it both ways, so we have to choose, and we will continue to have to choose every day until he leaves home. It's an ongoing balancing act, without an easy answer, but with countless rewards on both sides of the pendulum.

Why 9/11 Still Matters

Sept. 11. It was the day that was intended to tear America apart. Instead, it became the day that united us.

Everyone who experienced that day remembers where they were when they heard the news. I was watching TV while getting ready for work. It was a beautiful, sunny, early fall day and I was in a good mood. A really good mood.

I called my parents, 800 miles away, as soon as I heard. Together we sat and watched, while the footage played of the first plane, and then, to everyone's horror, the second plane, hitting the Twin Towers.

And then the towers fell.

I remember feeling so alone in that moment, witnessing the horror unfold. I wanted to be at my childhood home. I wanted to be with my parents. I wanted to be anywhere but sitting in my bedroom watching terror in action. So I met a couple friends downtown for breakfast. It was typically a noisy restaurant, but that day it was somber. Everyone's eyes stayed glued to the small TV screens, trying to get more news.

Another plane crashed in Pennsylvania. I knew people who lived in the area where the plane crashed. Then the Pentagon. Everyone wondered what would happen next. Everyone wondered if we would be next.

Those actions couldn't be undone. It was senseless, brutal injustice. It was the embodiment of evil. Almost 3000 people died while the world watched.

Yet we also saw heroism like we had never seen before. Firefighters rushing up the stairs to rescue those they could, knowing they might not come back down. Police officers and paramedics and civilians and executives and minimum-wage workers digging through rubble, looking for life. Stories of selfless airline passengers, who died so the rest of America could live.

Crime in New York City almost came to a complete stop in the immediate aftermath. We were kinder to each other. We celebrated our togetherness, instead of pointing out our differences. We were in this -- this journey of life -- together. We weren't divided. We were united. We were strong.

I pray we never go through another 9/11. But there's so much unrest in the world, I think we all feel a sense of vulnerability. I would like to think it's impossible for something like that to happen again, but I know better. The news all around us shows nations and people groups and religions and cultures battling each other out, each wanting the other one gone. This will surely be remembered as one of the most volatile times in human history.

But, we were strong before, and we can be strong again. Surely we don't need to go through another national tragedy to unite us. We can be better than that. Without the massive fatalities, the injuries, the toll it took on loved ones, the trauma -- without all of that, we can still come together. We can still stand united.

We can stop looking at differences and start looking at similarities. We can accept that people don't have to be just like us to be respected and treated with kindness. We can celebrate our uniqueness. We can cooperate.

We can do better. We did it before and we can do it again.

It starts with each of us.

It starts with me.