The Call...

On August 11, almost exactly 24 hours after blogging about going to Italy and the fact that we really had no news on the adoption front, we got THE CALL...

That morning, I arrived home from the gym all out of sorts. I walked into Matt's office and unloaded what was weighing on my heart, "I'm not sure we're supposed to adopt from Haiti right now. Maybe we should look closer at China. The wait time is so much shorter there. I just don't have clarity on any of it, and it stresses me out that we are reaching a point where we have to choose a country. I just really wish we would get a referral call and not have to make that decision." My stomach was in knots. I loved all of the babies in all of the countries. I didn't want to choose. By saying "yes" to one country, we would be saying "no" to all of the children in the other countries. Matt and I had decided that when we arrived back home from our trip to Florida, we would make a decision about countries. We were anxious to get our spot in line for a child, especially since some families wait years for the referral of a child.

I'm fairly certain that I didn't take a breath during that entire purging of thoughts. Matt looked up from his computer and calmly replied, "I think your blood sugar is low. You need to go eat something." And so I did. But while I ate, I prayed. I prayed for clarity. I prayed that we would receive a referral. I prayed that somehow we would just "know" which country and which child would be the best fit. I prayed for peace about all of it. And I prayed for our child.

About six hours later I found myself back-to-school shopping with Anna at the mall. She was trying on "the cutest dress ever" (her words) in the Dillards dressing room when my phone rang. It was 4:42 p.m. I didn't recognize the number, so I let it go to voicemail. When I listened, I heard a familiar voice, "Hi Carrie. This is A (the Open Options director). I have B (the Korea program director) with me and we were calling to talk to you about a referral. We're going to try Matt's phone next." I immediately texted Matt that he needed to pick up his phone when the call came through. The next thing I know, Matt is calling me.

"Hey. I have A and B on the phone. You want me to patch you in?"

Anna is still admiring "the cutest dress ever." Gulp. I lean against the corner of the dressing room. "Sure."

And then I hear the words I shall never forget,

"Okay...We have a referral, guys. It's a boy! And he's cute as can be."

Like the child in one of my favorite children's books, Knuffle Bunny, I went boneless. I was numb. I tried to process A's words. She told me his birth date. I jolted back to reality.

"He's young." Much younger than we anticipated. We had just raised the age range on our paperwork to include up to a seven year-old. We fully expected to be bringing home an older child. But a baby? These days, most babies are adopted within their home countries unless they have significant special needs, which begged my next question.

"Any special needs we should know about?" I was expecting her to list one or more of the needs we had marked "yes" to on our checklist. A heart baby, perhaps? A missing finger or hand? Cleft lip?

"Nope. He's meeting all of his milestones and appears healthy. Would you guys like to see his files?"

Still numb, we responded with a definite "Yes."

We opted not to see photos and video initially. As Matt always says, "No one goes to just look at puppies. Once you see them, it's hard to leave without one." A added that when we read the files, there would be information about his birth family that we would probably want to integrate into his story someday if he was our son.

We quickly bought "the cutest dress ever" at Dillards and left the mall. There would be no more shopping that day. I'm not even sure if "the cutest dress ever" rang up at the sale price. I didn't care. I couldn't concentrate. I could barely remember my PIN number for my debit card as I paid. I'm sure the cashier thought I was on a controlled substance. Every few seconds I felt tears bubbling to the surface and tried to suppress them.

I was obsessively checking e-mail on my phone for the files to come through. I couldn't remember where I parked. And when we reached the car, I remember thinking, "Concentrate, Carrie. You have your daughter in the back of the vehicle. Just drive." But I didn't. I still hit the refresh button for my e-mail at every stoplight. About one mile from home, the files came through. I started scanning at the last stoplight. I read his name, the one given by his birth parents... and its beautiful meaning. I started reading his story. And I started to cry.

Every adoption begins with loss. In a perfect world, there would be no need for adoption. We will not be sharing his story with the general public. It will be his story to share if and when he decides to do so. What I will say is that he was loved with a love beyond what most of us will ever know. Our prayers were answered. We prayed every night that he would know that he was loved. Most of us, if we are lucky, know the love of two parents. Our son was loved by his birth parents, his foster parents, and now us. Parental love times three.

We reviewed the rest of his medical records. It was official. We wanted photos. And video. I turned to Matt after we watched the video. "I think I already love him." A few days later, when Anna watched the video for the first time, she said the exact same words. He is one big chunk of Korean cuteness with smiles that melt a mama's heart. I just want to snuggle his little roly-poly body. He is almost twice the size that my other babies were at his age. As an adoptive mom, seeing those chubby cheeks and smiling eyes makes my heart soar. One of adoptive moms' biggest fears is that our babies are starving. Our family prayed every night that our new addition would have a full belly. Matt burst out laughing when I reminded him of this. Our baby boy has obviously been well fed. One more prayer answered!

I was still trying to wrap my mind around a Korean baby. South Korea. Halfway around the world. Fourteen hours ahead of us. I had thought that Korea was not an option for us. Some of the babies coming from Korea have had alcohol exposure, sometimes very high levels of it. Every family has certain lines it won't cross, and for us, alcohol exposure is one of those. We knew we should just accept him for the amazing blessing that he was, but we couldn't help but ask the question, "Why us? Why didn't a Korean family adopt him? Why didn't someone in the Korea program match up with him? What have we done to deserve this healthy baby boy?" Children only become available to those of us in the Open Options program if someone in their country program does not match up.

We asked. We were told that lots of Korean babies are coming to our agency lately, and that this little guy needed a family who was both "paper-ready" (nearing the completion of the home study) and matched up with his special care conditions.  His special care conditions were related to his family history rather than his physical condition. We were a match on both items. As A reminded me, though, "The only real explanation is that it was God." Yet another reason I love our agency.

Only weeks before, we had met with our agency about another child. This is rarely spoken of in the adoption world outside of those in the trenches, but many adoptive parents have had to say "no" to a child (or children) before they were able to say "yes" to another. It is heartbreaking, but part of a process that brings prospective parents one step closer to the child who God has planned for them. We knew very quickly that this was not our child, and I felt completely at peace about our decision. However, the dialogue we had with the program directors led us to alter our special care conditions checklist. Had we not changed one item in particular, we would not have been a match with our little Korean cutie.  I pulled out the checklist and looked. I had scribbled through the "no" box and switched the response to "maybe." All year I have praying that I would be intentional in all aspects of my life, and open to whatever God has planned for me. I'm so glad that I listened to that nudging from Him. God is in the smallest details. Even the checkmark in a box.

Please keep up us in your prayers as we begin the lengthy process of waiting. Our paperwork is headed to Korea, and we are told that it will be between 16 and 22 months before we are able to bring our little man home. Sigh. In the meantime he is no longer in an orphanage, but in arguably the highest quality foster care system in the world. Korean foster mamas love their foster babies, and he is currently in what appears to be a very loving family. We are preparing our first care package for him (and them). We appreciate them more than they will ever know. He will likely be at least two years old when he comes home, and we will be facing the added adoption issues of grieving for his foster family and learning a new language. The process has been speeding up slightly as the country has gotten into the groove of implementing new laws. Please pray that this process is expedited, as we would love to have our baby home as quickly as possible.

We will be making two trips to Korea. During the first trip, we will appear in court before a judge and answer several questions. We will be able to see our son for two one-hour visits. You read that correctly. We will fly around the world to see our son for two hours.  Approximately 5-9 weeks later, we will return to bring him HOME.

At a time when the world seems to have gone mad, please pray for the continued safety of Baby Bowler in South Korea and all of the other children waiting for their forever families. Every night since we began our adoption journey, we have prayed that our child would be safe, have a full belly, and know that he or she was loved. Please join us in this prayer as we work to bring our chubby baby boy to his forever home.