Wren's Song

Hi.  It's a little wild out there, huh?  

I told my counselor (On video chat. Duh.) that America woke up with an anxiety disorder. So, besides the valid cause behind said affliction, I'm basically watching MY typical overwrought headspace -on any given PRE-virus day- play out nationally.  Yeah: O out of O stars, would not recommend.  And as much as I'd like to welcome the new Worst Case Scenario-ers with open arms, I cannot.  Because, social distancing. 

The cherry on top of this crap-tastic sundae is the adoption news we got this week.  For 6+ months, our adoption agency has (unknowingly) received partial information regarding the status of Wren's case in court.  Typically, international adoption process in India is comprised of 3 court hearings.  During the first hearing, the case gets admitted into court.  The second hearing -the BIGGEST hurdle- is where "further evidence" (our dossier of paperwork) is gone over and "okay-ed" by the judge.  If that okay is granted, the third hearing can be scheduled.  At that final hearing, judicial approval -in both verbal and written form- is given, officially linking son or daughter to their forever parents.  Okay, now follow me: For MONTHS, we'd been informed that Wren's most recent March 17th hearing was to be that 3rd hearing.  The Oprah moment we've been waiting for.  However, the recent news from our adoption caseworker burst that bubble.  In reality, the March 17th hearing (which didn't even happen because of Covid) was merely a first, failed attempt at our SECOND hearing.  Whaaaaaat?!?!?!  Considering there's just three hearings, it *shouldn't be* overly difficult to keep track of a case's status.  Except that Wren's first hearing, the simple admission of her case into court, was completed only after being delayed/rescheduled 4 different times over 5 months.  Yeah.  And the next attempt at a second hearing isn't until June.  Which means, by the time of June's *potential* hearing, Wren's case will have been in court for 11+ months.  Sigh.

Before learning all this, I wrote and illustrated another book.  (Storytime video is at the end of this blog post!) Sometimes I get possessed by a weird laser focus that helps me finish projects in record time.  This time that drive was fueled by the desire to DO SOMETHING to quiet the scary unknowns of our present.  Because seeing empty grocery store shelves is off-putting, right?  The idea that we as Americans can't get something we want -let alone need- is disconcerting.  Unnerving.  More often then not, a substantial panicky feeling hunkers down on my chest around bedtime, keeping me awake with endless questions: How long will we have to shelter in place?  Will my friends and family be safe?  How can we possibly contain this?  Do we have enough toilet paper?

The questions definitely outnumber the answers right now.  That's hard.  But the motivation for the book was even more personal.  My daughter is apart from me.  In India.  A country I'm presently prohibited from visiting.  Her current living situation -the very interactive and social environment of an orphanage- makes her vulnerable to contracting the virus.  Being an orphan doesn't exactly afford her access to the top level of healthcare either.  But what's most excruciating is that during this global pandemic, Wren's care is being provided by staff who are paid to do so.  Not by us, her parents who want NOTHING but to love her and keep her safe.

 So, I wrote a book for Wren. And for me. And, after finding out the deflating news about court, I'm glad the book was already complete. Because I'm low. And lonely. (Us extroverts like really, really need hugs.) Tired and defeated and -quite literally- stuck. A big cry helped. Yesterday, I decided to putter around the kitchen and distract myself by making muffins. (Apparently, I make muffins now? Social isolation has changed me.) As I was mixing the ingredients, I heard a chirping outside the window. I tried to ignore it and keep stirring, but the tweet-tweet-tweeting was resolute. However, I hesitated to investigate the source. You see, our porch wren had abandoned her perch awhile ago. I hadn't realized how much happiness her little presence had provided until she left. Just the fact that A WREN -of all birds- would share space with our family, gave me joy. And then she was gone and the world turned crazy and our adoption went in the crapper. Hence the hesitation to seek anything moderately good. Because it hurts. This compromised emotional (and mental) state barely allowed me to peek out the window. But I did. And there she was, back in the nest on the porch, singing her wren's song to me. It sounded like hope.