How about you tie the tubes in your mouth?

I need to step outside of my comfort zone for a minute.  I’m typically not one to cause friction or publicly call somebody out, but I’m feeling like it is warranted and necessary.  Consider this both a public service and a preemptive strike.

As you may recall, we are in the process of adopting a baby girl born two weeks ago.  This little girl is the biological half-sister of our adopted son.  In simpler terms, our two youngest have the same birth mom, but different birth dads.

Given this information, and the relatively small gap between their births (a little over 17 months), we have had to field some uncomfortable questions from friends, family, co-workers, and others.

You can probably guess some of the things we’re hearing.  Things like “She knows what causes that right?” or suggestions that we should take the birth mom a box of condoms.  When we shared that our daughter was born via C-section, more people than I care to think about have asked “Did they tie her tubes while they were in there?”.

My wife and I struggle to process how rude and insensitive these comments are.  It is disappointing, insulting (and rather infuriating) to hear them from people we care about.

I honestly believe that these things are said with good, honest intentions.  We simply do not have people in our lives who are intentionally rude and insulting to us.  It’s likely these things are said jokingly, or in reaction to the sudden nature of this placement, or any number of other reasons.

But trust me, we do not appreciate these comments.

First and foremost, you’re talking about the birth mother of two of our children.  I’m going to defend her like I would my own mom, my wife, or our children.  Mess with the birth mama and you’re messing with me.

It may be hard for non-adoptive parents to understand the protective loyalty I have for someone I’ve never met (as is the case with both of our birth moms), but you need to understand:  without these women, without the sacrifices they made, the pain they endured, and the other things you and I cannot fully appreciate, I have no children.  No family.  Nothing.  The gratitude – the eternal, never-ending thankfulness I have cannot be underestimated.

It is very easy for those on the outside to look at the choices birth moms make and judge.  Why did they get “knocked up”?  Why do they have babies they “cannot keep”?  How could they possibly “give up*” a child for adoption?  Again?

*Seriously, if you’re still saying “give up”, please stop.  Switch to “placed for adoption” or “chose to place for adoption”.  Yeah it’s a little more work for your brain, but those extra words don’t sting nearly as bad.

I look at this two ways:

1) Look at your life.  What choices have you made that others have judged?  How did that feel?  I know I’m not perfect.  My family and friends love me in spite of many of the things I’ve done and said.

2) Instead of focusing on the negative, celebrate these women.  Instead of choosing abortion, they chose to give life to these wonderful, beautiful children – all while enduring a difficult social stigma.  The greatest days of our lives – the days we took custody of our children – were the worst days in the lives of their birth moms.  We try to never forget that.

But mostly, I think about the birth mom of our son and baby girl.  She is a beautiful young woman (early 30s) with lots of life to live.  Who knows what her situation will be in six months or six years?  Quite simply, she has done absolutely nothing to warrant losing her ability to have children.

Nobody has the right to suggest that her ability to reproduce be taken away solely because she blessed us with two beautiful children.  Not me.  Not you.  Nobody.

I can’t tell you what to think or how to feel about the choices our birth moms have made.  But I am asking you – politely, yet very, very firmly – to keep those opinions to yourself.  My children will be raised to honor and celebrate their mom and birth mom, and they do not need to hear any rude or disparaging comments about them.

Thank you.

Surprise!

My wife and I are infertile.  I’ve long since come to grips with this, and as such, I understand there are some aspects of a fertile male’s life that I will never experience.  For example, I’ll never get to put my hand on my wife’s tummy and feel a kick.  I’ll never see a child that shares the same DNA as we do*.  I’ll never have the “delivery room” experience, or get cut an umbilical cord.**

*This is probably for the best as our collective family health risks would likely make any biological child one big, genetic time bomb.  Put it this way:  if there is a charity walk to support it, you can probably find it somewhere in our families.

**Also for the best as I’m irrationally weird about belly buttons.  Just typing this sentence makes me uncomfortable.

I am completely, perfectly, 100% fine with not experiencing these things.  Through the wonder of adoption, we have two healthy and happy children who are more beautiful than anything my flawed DNA could ever hope to be apart of.  We are blessed beyond reason.  We’ve talked about adopting again, but I’ve been firm in wanting to be done.

Or so I thought.

*  *   *

On a typical Tuesday morning (July 23, 2013), I’m sitting at my desk doing some work.  My wife calls and ask if I want to take an “early lunch”.  Looking at the clock on my PC, I see that it’s 10:29 am.

I am far from hungry, but I can tell that my wife wants to talk about something.

In person.

Now.

We agree to meet at home in 15 minutes and I head out the door.  I arrive home fully expecting to hear some job-related news.  Her department has been having some issues, and I’m wondering if she was fired.  Or if she got fed up and walked out.  Maybe she was offered a vacant management position.

We step in the house, and she tells me “_______________”.

Yeah, I have no idea what she said – either exactly or paraphrased.  It was something about a phone call from Florida.  But the message was this:

The birth mother of our son is pregnant and has chosen to place the baby for adoption.  Our adoption agency wants to know if we would accept the placement.

And just like that, I got to experience something I never thought would happen to me:  being told “You’re going to be a father” completely and totally out of the blue.

According to my wife, my initial response was “So you’re not fired?”

*   *   *

The next 20-30 minutes are a bit of a blur.  The baby is going to be a girl.  My wife always wanted to have two girls.  She’s a giddy, teary, excited mess.  She wants this.

I think of my son, picturing his beautiful face.  There is no way I could ever look into his deep, dark eyes and say “Well, buddy, Mommy and I had a chance to adopt a baby sister – your biological half-sister – but we said no.  Sorry, little dude.”  As much I was done – had you asked me 45 minutes earlier, I would have told you that I was more likely to grow a third arm than have a third child – this was a no-brainer for me.

When we called the agency’s case worker back to say “yes”, she said “Well, that was fast!”

Of course it was fast.  We’re talking about my daughter.

*   *   *

I’ll admit it:  I’m in shock.  As I type this, I still am in disbelief.

Oh yeah, there’s one other little tidbit from that first conversation with my wife that I haven’t shared yet:  this baby girl’s due date is August 19.  2013.  We don’t get nine months.  We don’t even get nine weeks.

This is a serious game changer for us.  With our previous two adoptions, we were able to plan and save.  I don’t know if you know this or not, but adoption is kind of expensive.  While my wife’s employer has some adoption benefits, it barely puts a dent in what we need.  Can I fit three car seats in my sedan?  We don’t have an open bedroom so somebody will have to double up.  There are a thousand other things that change.  The classic parenting joke of having to switch from a man-to-man to a zone defense.  Knowing that I may not sleep through the night again until 2014.  May not dine in a restaurant with my family until 2015.  May not be able to retire until 10 years after I die.

But it will all work out.  It will all be worth it.

This is my daughter.

*   *   *

As you are reading this, we’re sitting in a rented vacation home in Orlando, Florida – that’s where our daughter was born.  We’ve actually been here for a while.  We believed the birth mom would go into labor early, and since we were driving from our home in Nebraska*, we decided to take advantage of a weekend to get down here.

*Yeah, that drive was not exactly a breeze.  1,400 miles with kids that apparently are incapable of sleeping in a car – no matter the time of day.  All I know is the person who thought to put a DVD player in minivans will forever hold a fond place in my heart.  I’m sure the drive back with a newborn will be much better.

We took placement today (Saturday, August 24), and baby was discharged from the hospital into our custody. Now, we hang out here and wait for our ICPC clearance to leave Florida and reenter Nebraska.

Waiting for paperwork to process may sound like a real drag – especially to adoptive parents whose lives can feel like one giant form, but this is different.  This is relaxing, stress-free time.  This is bonding with a baby, and spending the quality family time that politicians preach about (before they go sleep with their mistress).  In short, this is heaven with take out food and a swimming pool.

*   *   *

I know most of my friends are probably reading this with their jaws dragging on the floor.

Trust me, I can relate to the disbelief you’re feeling.

I do want to apologize to you for not letting you know about this sooner.  But as you may remember, we got burned once by a failed adoption.  Even though we had absolutely no reason to believe it would happen this time, the simple truth is that until the relinquishment papers are signed, the birth mom has every right to parent this baby.  So we wanted to be guarded and protect ourselves.  Neither my wife nor I had any desire to go through the pain of having to tell everybody in our lives that we got our hearts broken.  Again.  Therefore, we decided to wait until she was born and her birth mom had signed the relinquishment papers.

I hope you can understand why we had to keep it a secret.

Besides, everybody loves a good surprise.

Baby Lexi

*   *   *

Alexandra Grace Paris Feit was born at 3:54 am on Thursday, August 22.  Lexi, as we will call her, weighed 7 pounds, 10 ounces and was 20 inches long.  She is a perfectly healthy little girl with a full head of silky black hair.  Her birth mama needed an emergency C-section*, but is recovering well.  We understand that she was released from the hospital today.

*Almost a week past her due date, little Lexi was in no hurry to be born.  We were told that she was hanging on to her birth mama as the doctor delivered her.

Her birth mom chose her first name (from the two finalists we had narrowed it down to).  Her first middle name (Grace) is the name of her great-grandma (my wife’s grandma) who is very dear to us.  Her second middle name (Paris) was given to her by her birth mom, and is the name of her grandpa (her birth mom’s daddy) who shared a birthday with Lexi.

Lexi’s big sister Jamie is over the moon, and wants nothing more than to hold her and kiss her.  Lexi’s big brother Cameron doesn’t quite grasp what is going on yet, but we’re sure that he will be a wonderful (and protective) big brother.

My beautiful family

National Review: IRS targeting adoptive parents for audit

There are a ton of partisan landmines in the controversy of the IRS targeting groups with certain political leanings – and I’m purposely choosing to tip-toe around those.
Last year when I wrote to support extending the adoption tax credit, I mentioned in passing that claiming the adoption tax credit all but guarantees an audit.
I had no idea how right I was.
The numbers cited here (90% were asked for more info, and 69% were audited) are astounding, appalling, and hopefully a call for action.

While it absolutely sucks that adoptive parents have to face yet another layer of scrutiny not known by most families, fear not – if it is one thing adoptive parent know, it is how to fill out a form.

The Social Stigma of Adoption

During the various adoption classes and trainings we did, we came to understand how adoption is a beautiful thing built on a foundation of loss.  The birth mother feels loss over placing her child.  The adoptee feels loss over a lack of identity or not knowing their biological family.  The adoptive parents often know the loss of infertility.

I feel as if I understand the losses that everybody in our two adoptions feels.  However, I tend to look at loss mostly from my perspective, which is rather rosy.  I have long accepted that my wife and I will never have a biological child, and I am perfectly fine with that.  Our children are amazing – smart, beautiful, vibrant little beings that make me happy beyond words.  I truly believe my wife and I could not have produced anything as wonderful as our two kiddos.  So I tend to forget about the other two sides of our adoption triangle and any pain they might be feeling.

I may be over my loss, and I’m naive enough to think that we can provide enough love and support to cushion whatever loss our kids may feel as their comprehension of their journeys to our home evolves.  But do I really understand what our birth mothers went through?

Sure, I can vocalize the pain they must feel over knowing that they have not seen their beautiful children in person since birth.  I can try to understand what it must be like to go through life – being with their other children, hearing a baby cry, seeing their C-section scar, or any of the thousand moments in the day where they are reminded that the life they brought into this world is (for differing reasons) not currently in their life.

It is a pain that I cannot understand, a loss that I will never know, an ache that (presumably) never goes away.  I am grateful beyond words these women chose adoption and chose us to parent their children.

But is another part of the story that I had never ever considered; one that makes me love and appreciate these women even more:  the social stigma they must face.  The judgment (silent, vocal, or implied) from everyone you know.

I recently read a very interesting piece in the Washington Post entitled “A Mother’s Day plea to stop equating adoption with abandonment“. It really opened my eyes.

I clicked on the piece expecting a rant against an all-too-common adoption phrase:  “gave up for adoption”*.

*I hate that phrase.  Despise it.  It makes the hair on my neck stand up and wakes up the protective Papa Bear inside me.  Nobody – and I mean NOBODY – “gave up” on my babies.  Not their birth moms, not their biological families, nor anybody else.  Say that about my kids, and you may “give up” on breathing for a while.

A belated Birth Mother’s Day to all of the wonderful birth moms out there, and especially to two amazing women who will always be special to us.

But while “gave up” is mentioned in the piece, it is a small component in the bigger message.

The loss a birth mom faces can sometimes pale in comparison to the social stigma they face for placing their child for adoption.  The author even asserts that for some women, aborting an unplanned pregnancy can have less impact than placing a child for adoption.

Think about it:  there is a woman at work, at school, at church, in your family, wherever.  You can tell that she is pregnant, even if you think she’s trying to hide it.  You hear that she’s gone into labor and delivered a healthy child.  Then one day, she is back but little is said publicly about where the baby went.

You would judge her.

You would think she was a slut for getting knocked up, or she’s a bad person because she couldn’t take care of her baby, or she has betrayed religious tenets you hold dear.

You would ask why.  Why couldn’t she raise baby?  Why did she have to “give up” this child?  Why is she such a bad mom?  Why?

You may not say or intentionally do anything, but you would likely judge her for placing her baby for adoption.  Or make negative assumptions.

Hell, I am a two-time adoptive father.  I owe an overwhelming debt of gratitude to our two birth moms.  And I can honestly tell you that I have made some negative judgments about birth moms (especially the one who lied to us in our failed adoption).

Simply put:  the social stigma our birth mothers faced is something that I (as an adoptive father) have failed to comprehend, or even acknowledge.

And that is what makes birth moms so amazing.  When faced with an unplanned pregnancy, they could take the “easy” way out and abort.  Few people would know, and they would not have to endure nine months of judgment, and a lifetime of whispers about how she “gave up” a baby.  Imagine the strength, the love, and conviction needed to make an adoption plan, especially in the face of such social stigma.

The solution is simple:  as a society, we readjust our mindset on birth moms.  They are not pariahs incapable of parenting.  They love their children and want the best possible life for them.  The author says it best:

“A woman’s decision to carry a baby to term knowing that she will not reap the fruits of motherhood should be treated as an act of bravery and selflessness — the ultimate standards of good motherhood.”

I agree.

*   *   *

Update…The WordPress Daily Prompt for 5/14/2013 is about unconditional love.  I definitely think the love birth moms have for their children qualifies.

I’ll Wait Forever

Author’s note:  This post is partially inspired by a writing prompt on openadoptionbloggers.com.  The prompt was simply to “Write about open adoption and time.” 

It also presents a good opportunity to share a song from one of my favorite bands.  Stick with me…hopefully it will all make sense in the end.

*   *   *

Whenever we have shared news with family, friends, and co-workers about being in an adoption process (i.e. somewhere between filling out that first form and when we see our child for the first time), the conversation inevitably turns to time*.

“When?”

“How long?”

This makes sense as adoption does not track time on the same clock as traditional pregnancy.  The path of the adoptive parent (foster, domestic, international, etc.) along with a plethora of other factors all play a role in speeding or slowing the adoption clock.  If you don’t know somebody who has been through adoption, it’s tough to understand why some adoptions take weeks and others take years.

*The cynical side of me thinks these conversations gravitate to time so easily because time questions are much safer than the questions people really want to ask:  “Why?”  and “How much?”  But I’m getting off track…

Time.

Ask most adoptive parents about time, and they’ll tell you about The Wait.  The Wait is the stretch of time between reaching the summit of Mount Paperwork and the tearful bliss of Gotcha Day.  The Wait can be a few days or multiple years.  The Wait is rarely in any hurry.

Nine months seem like a long time to wait for a baby, but with traditional pregnancy you have a date that you can point to.  A date you can circle on the calendar and count down to.  A date you (and your employer) can plan around.  People in The Wait do not have the luxury.  The Wait hates planners.

For most people, The Wait sucks.  Yes, there are lots of adoptions that take far less than nine months, but you usually have no idea of that going in.  The Wait loves to keep you guessing.  For both of our adoptions, we entered into The Wait with a vague timetable of “anywhere between six and twelve months” before we would be matched*

*Okay….before we go too much farther, I need to have full disclosure.  This is not going to be easy for some of you to read, but if I’m going to post this on an Open Adoption blog site, I need to be open.  Here goes:

Our “wait” between the time our agency sent out our profiles (i.e. when we were considered waiting) and the phone call letting us know about a potential match with our daughter can be easily measured in days.  That you could count on one hand.  Even if you only had four fingers on that hand.

Yep, our profiles went out on the Friday before Memorial Day (2009) and I received the call from our agency on the day after Memorial Day.  It’s okay if you want to hate us – I’m pretty sure I would be insanely jealous with hate if we had spent years living with The Wait.  If it helps, I had emergency back surgery before we could take placement…but that’s another story for another day.

There is no secret formula for surviving The Wait.  Our agency encouraged us to consider ourselves “paper pregnant” and go through the mental and physical processes (baby showers, nesting, preparing a nursery, etc.) to get ready for our child’s arrival.  For the most part, that is what we did throughout the process as my wife (correctly) assumed that we would be matched early.

But what if our long weekend of a wait had truly stretched into The Wait?  Do you try to put The Wait in your pocket and go on living your life?  I can see how detaching yourself from the stress and uncertainty of The Wait could be a viable survival tactic to avoid the anticipation and anxiety from consuming you.  Or is The Wait always there?  Some days it lurks in a corner, just barely visible, while other days it stands squarely on your chest?  I just don’t know.

I think we can all agree that The Wait sucks for most adoptive parents, but my opinion is that it is even worse for parents adopting internationally.  First, there is all of the bureaucratic red tape that exists between two countries.  Second comes the anxiety over the country itself – will it be free from war, disease, natural disaster, or governmental instability.

But the worst part would have to be accepting a match to a child and (depending on the country/program) receiving a picture or some video of your child.  Then you must wait another six months before you can hold him in your arms.  That is just The Wait being cruel.

So for those of you currently in the midst of The Wait, or for those who remember how fun it was, I’d like to share a song that I wish would have been around when we were going through the process.  It’s called “I’ll Wait Forever”.

The song is by The Nadas, a longtime indie band from Des Moines, IA, and appears on their new album Lovejoy Revival.  To the best of my knowledge, nobody in the band has an adoption tie, and judging by the other tracks on Lovejoy, the song was not intended with an adoption slant.  Yet, every time I listen to “I’ll Wait Forever”, I cannot help by think of our two waits, and how the end results were worth every agonizing second.

I’ll wait forever.
‘Til you come true.

I’ll wait forever.
For you.

Its An Honor Just To Be Nominated

My recent post on the days leading up to our second adoption (One Year Ago This Weekend) was awarded a “Best Moment Award” from www.momentmatters.com.

What does one need to do to win such an award?  Apparently, one must be an embodiment of their mission:

Awarding the people who live in the moment,
The noble who write and capture the best in life,
The bold who reminded us what really mattered –
Savoring the experience of quality time.

Bold and noble.  Yep, that’s me alright.  Plus, I get this sweet trophy:

Definitely not an award for modesty

What does this all mean?  I’m not really sure.

• Do I need to rent a tux, walk the red carpet, and smile politely while Joan and Melissa make catty comments about me?
• Do I get an actual trophy, or do I print out their jpeg and put it on my mom’s refrigerator?
• Are the various blogging awards legitimate pieces of well deserved recognition, or are they a variation on a chain letter* and/or  a sneaky way for a site to get page views?  (I’m obviously not referring to this fine award, of course).
• Can I now refer to myself as an “award-winning writer”?

*According to Award by-laws, I apparently have the right, responsibility, and privilege to bestow this honor on somebody else.  Given that I received this for writing about my second adoption of a beautiful baby boy, it only makes sense that I hereby nominate the wonderful Wonderment, Etc. who has recently posted about their second adoption of a beautiful baby boy.

In all seriousness, I do appreciate that somebody thinks my stuff is award worthy.  I am truly grateful for all of my readers, commenters, and share-ers even if you don’t have a kick-ass trophy graphic that I can put on my blog.

One Year Ago This Weekend

One year ago this weekend, things sucked for us.

A lot.

Adoption in America

I came across a very interesting adoption infographic today that I wanted to share:

From the USC School of Social Work (via msw.usc.edu)

(source:  http://msw.usc.edu/mswusc-blog/adoption-infographic/)

A couple of comments and things that stood out to me:

• I’m not a fan of their use of “orphan” to describe the children who are adopted.  While their usage is technically accurate – at least from a legal perspective – when most people think of orphans, they think of children whose parents have died.  I have never considered my two adopted children to be “orphans” because their birth parents are all living.
• I’m a little surprised that the overwhelmingly majority of adoptive parents (75%) are white.
• I wonder if same-sex couples were placed in the married or unmarried couple section in the adoptive parents pie chart.
• I’d love to know more about single men who have adopted.  Are they going through the foster system, agencies, or what?  I have a strange suspicion that trying to adopt as a single male would be harder than being a single woman, unmarried (hetero) couple, or a gay/lesbian couple.
• Wow.  Look at the orphan numbers in Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa.  Just…wow.
• I’d like to see the numbers on adoptive parents who experienced a failed adoption prior to placement.  I’ve always heard it is around 1 in 3, but hard numbers would be interesting.
• I’d also like to see the number of open adoptions, especially among U.S. children.  The increase in open adoption has been a game changer, and I think it is a part of the reason why adoptions have increased 15% since 1990.

Four More Years, But A Life Long Lesson

Today is the inauguration of President Obama’s second term in office.  For a sizable chunk of the country (including a vast majority of my Big Red home state*), the start of Obama’s second four years in the White House is a cause for trepidation, not celebration.

*How deeply Republican is Nebraska?  In the 2012 election, Mitt Romney won 92 of the 93 counties in the state.  In 43 of those 93 counties, Romney received over 75% of the vote.  The lone victory for Obama came in tiny Thurston County, where Obama won by 308 votes.  In Nebraska, Obama yard signs were about as common as folks flying Texas Longhorns flags on fall Saturdays – you could do it, but it’s a great way to alienate your friends and neighbors.

But setting aside the President’s politics, I am thrilled to see him get another four years.  Why?  It’s not because I’m a card-carrying liberal or have a strong connection to any of his policies.  The reason is much more personal.

We adopted both of our children through an agency in Florida.  My son is African-American, and we believe our daughter’s birth father is black.  We know that the color of their skin is going to stand out here – it does almost every time we leave the house – and there will come a day when they are treated differently because of their skin.  I know that some day they will have doubts on what they can achieve, or if the color of their beautiful skin will be a hinderance to their hopes and dreams.

When those moments occur, I will remind them that for the first four and eight years of their lives, a black man was the President of the United States of America.  And with the proper motivation, dedication, and passion there is absolutely nothing they cannot accomplish.

For me, having a positive role model like Obama for my children trumps any concerns my fellow citizens may have about his policies and views.

Some Children Left Behind

In recognition of National Adoption Day, I’d like to share some sobering numbers about my beloved home state of Nebraska:

In 2010 in the state of Nebraska:

• 4,301 children were in foster care.
• 1,033 of those children were waiting for placement with a permanent family.
• 275 children turned 18 and aged out of the foster care system without a permanent family (28,000 nationally).

All of this in a state that claims to be “The Good Life”.

Definitely, those numbers are quite sad.  But I’d like to draw your attention to that last bullet about the 275 kids who aged out of the system.  Even though it is the smallest number, it should be the most depressing.

These 275 kids are now essentially alone in the world, without the family support structure that most of us take for granted.  Think about it:  Where are these kids going to go next week for Thanksgiving, while we enjoy time together with our families?  Who will celebrate Christmas with them?  Who walks them down the aisle at their wedding?  When they have good news, need support, or advice on life, who do they call or lean on?

Yes, by government standards, they are 18 year-old men and women, and therefore should be able to survive just fine in the world.  However, it has been shown that kids who age out of the foster care system have a greater risk of homelessness, substance abuse, and crime than their peers who have some sort of family structure.

We can, and should do better.

Obviously, the biggest thing that can be done is to look into becoming a foster or adoptive parent – especially for older children, sibling groups, and minorities.  You can learn more on the Nebraska Health & Human Services website: www.dhhs.ne.gov/adoptionkids

Look – I am not suggesting that everyone who reads this should go out and become a foster parent or adopt a child.  Adoption and foster parenting are not for everyone.  The adoption process can be lengthy, costly, and frustrating in several areas.  Others have preconceived notions and misplaced fears over how foster and adopted kids will connect with their family.  And many think that they are not a “good enough” parent to foster or adopt (but strangely, it’s okay for these “inferior” parents to screw up their biological children).

Fortunately, the good folks at the Ad Council have a humorous* response for you:

*Humorous, and also very correct.  As an adoptive parent, I can assure that even though I can bake a good batch of cookies, I am miles from being a perfect parent, but my two beautiful children don’t seem to mind.

Adoption may not be for everyone.  But, there are many ways that we can all help:

• Remember adoption, foster care, and other children’s organizations when you do your charitable giving.  Here in Nebraska, I’d recommend Cedars,  Lutheran Family Services, Nebraska Children’s Home Society, and Right Turn, but feel free to support others.

• In addition to (or instead of) financial contributions, many of the above organizations will gladly accept donations of time, talents, and other goods and services.  For the kids who at risk for aging out of the foster care system, mentoring programs (such as Teammates) can make a huge difference.  Call and ask how you can help – even if it is an hour a month.

• Call or email your U.S. Congressman and Senators and ask them to support and/or co-sponsor H.R. 4373 and S.3616,an extension of the adoption tax credit, which is set to expire at the end of 2012.  This important tax credit makes adopt more affordable for many worthy families.  Click here for more info about the expiration of these important credits.

• Ask your employer to add adoption benefits to their benefits package (or expand what they already have).  Adoption benefits help to level the playing field between biological and adoptive parents.  Common benefits include paid time off and stipends to help defray adoption expenses.  Adoption benefits are a win-win for companies (relatively low-cost to implement, but are great for P.R. and recruiting) as well as employees (very family friendly).

• If you support any pro-life groups, make sure they are including support for adoption in their agenda.  Because while reducing/limiting/ending abortion is a noble goal, birth mothers will still need options for unplanned pregnancies.  The pro-life groups (especially here in Nebraska) carry a lot of political clout, so they need to leverage some of their might to make adoption more accessible and affordable.

If you have questions about adoption (the process, the costs, etc) and do not know where to turn for answers, feel free to shoot me an email (feitcanwrite@hotmail.com).  I don’t have all the answers, but I’m willing to share our experiences and advice, as well as pay back the grear information we received when we were first starting out.