Oh boy! We have been riding the adoption roller coaster the last 24 hours, and if any of you know us...we do NOT go on roller coasters!! I am not sure what is worse, the slow ride up the first hill when you are hoping the roller coaster is going to stay on the track or the moment you get over the hump and your stomach leaps up into your eyeballs...of course, it could the ridiculous whiplash as you go around the curves, the blood-curdling "I think I'm dying" scream while you hang on to the medal bar, and of course the cheeks and drool flapping in the artificial wind. Yep. That's it. That's what I feel like. Cheeks and drool flapping in the wind. For me, I think that's the moment where I surrender to the idea that I'm probably not going to actually die on the roller coaster. I can see the station where the controller-person stands and I know I'm getting close. It's the moment when you know it's been scary, but there's just one more head-jarring, cheek-flapping corner before your know your fate.
So...this is our story. The door to Haiti appears to be closing, but there is still a crack. Our cheeks are still flapping, but I should know by the end of the day tomorrow what is around that corner. A few weeks ago, we were urged by our adoption agency to get the dossier (big pile of legal documents & other documents required by Haiti) compiled and submitted as quickly as possible, in order to beat Haiti's switch-over to becoming a Hague country. We have had several roadblocks in the last few weeks, but they all seemed to be minor, fixable issues...just little things that slowed the process down. Yesterday morning, I emailed our agency to let her know where we were in the process and we had one roadblock that couldn't get resolved until August, because the man we need for some notorized info is out of state until then. I told her I didn't think we would be able to finish the dossier prior to Hague being implemented. (Hague Accreditation is an international adoption standard...most countries are accredited). My assumption was that we would just have more hoops to jump through. I was wrong.
4:00 yesterday afternoon, we got a call from our agency. Our I600a (the approval needed from Immigration in order to bring an orphan into the U.S.) had to arrive at a "lockbox" location in Texas by Friday in order to have "a pretty good chance" at being grandfathered-in to Haiti's old way of adopting (pre-Hague). The problem is that Haiti itself (not us) will have many more hoops to jump through in order to meet the adoption laws, and our agency does not think Haiti is prepared to handle that. If Haiti is not able to meet those standards, they anticipate that the U.S. will stop accepting orphans from Haiti.
We flew into action last night. We prepared the documents, read the instructions over and over which are quite particular, figured and re-figured the amount due for processing the form and for a biometrics fee, made sure our various records were all in order and ready to go. Then, this afternoon, I had to drive all the way to Hampton to get a money order from our business account. I double-checked the amount due on my business partner's computer before getting the money order, and then double checked the address. I mailed it out from Hampton, guaranteed to arrive in Dallas, TX by 3:00pm on Friday. Whew! Done. I thought. As I pulled into our driveway this evening, a huge weight came over me. I picked up the receipt for the money order to file away, when I saw the total on the check. It was $100 short. I had double and triple checked everything...except the amount on the actual money order.
After being on hold with U.S. Customs for 40 minutes, I offered to send an additional check, and even cancel the current one and re-send an entirely new application. I was told there was nothing I could do. Feeling defeated, I said "So I'm just not going to be able to adopt from Haiti, am I?" He then gave me the phone number and email for the USCIS Adoption Center. They are not open until tomorrow, but I did email them already. I will be calling in the morning.
So...our cheeks are flapping in the wind and we can see the Controller standing around the corner. I am looking forward to arriving at the Control Station tomorrow. My prayers have been filled with wonder...what is it that our Master Roller Coaster Controller wants us to do? Will our cheeks keep flapping as we round the corner just to find there are actually a few more curves with Haiti as the final destination? Or is this the end of the Haiti Coaster? If so, which one does He want us to board? Ethiopia? Congo? We may be afraid of roller coasters, especially ones that take us so far away from home, but we have surrendered. We know that the Controller has a plan, we just have to be quiet and listen (and take along a kleenex to wipe up the drool).
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