Smiles and Band-Aids

October 21st, 2013 - it is now nearly 16 months since the start of our adoption journey.  The past 7 weeks have seen Jennie and I go through 3 different fingerprint screenings, including one that took place on the very same day as the baby shower held by my brother and his wife. In a funny way, it was like both of us were taking a small step towards parenthood. The circumstances were a little different, however.

They were showered with gifts and friends rejoiced their pregnancy, and rightfully so.  They are good people, living their life honestly, surrounded by friends they value.  Meanwhile, Jennie and I stood in an old Postal Annex shop in San Jose, being questioned about our integrity to adopt and our worthiness of becoming parents. Another set of fingerprints, the third time in 7 weeks we had to do so. Additionally, we had the exquisite opportunity of re-doing our paperwork and working with not one, but two inefficient and tragically unfocused governments who help us inch towards finalizing our adoption.

Here's something that people outside of buying a home almost never experience: mass document notarization.  In the past 7 weeks alone, we have notarized more than 20 documents, each containing 2 signatures - EACH of which need to be notarized. "Google" notary fees in California and you will find that the average charge is $10 per signature on top of the $150 per fingerprint session. Yes, just another blissful part of adopting a child.  What other joyful events have Jennie and I took part in you ask? There couldn't possible be anything more exciting and convenient, could there?

The last update Jennie and I received regarding our child has been more than 9 weeks ago - that's 73 days without ANY update whatsoever as to the progress or health of our child. No pictures. No letters. Earlier I mentioned that our potential adoptive son (Tae Yeong) seems more like a myth to me than a reality. Nowadays the thoughts of him and his pictures seem like a hazy dream that is fading before it even materialized into something I could remember.

A few days ago I forgot to call my mom to thank her and let her know that I have received the food she left on my doorstep.  We were in a rush to go see my wife's sister and her family (the aforementioned newborn and 19 month old boy) and had forgotten to return her call earlier in the day.  We called back that evening and one of the things she said to me after I thanked her for the food and asked her what she would want for her birthday was "I don't want anything for my birthday, I'm just very sad these days. Having you guys call me back and thank me for the food is what I wish you guys would do in a timely manner."  And she is right, and I'm sure she has had her share of heartbreak and sorrow during this time.  But during this infinite sadness, where was her call after I had a surgical procedure done a year ago? Where was she when I had 30 appointments going from hospitals to clinics to specialists to laboratories?  Where were her calls and condolences when I had court appearances, social workers, and government agencies make feel like I was a criminal trying to adopt a child while dealing with the life-altering diagnosis of azoospermia?  And when I sat in the parking lot of Good Samaritan Hospital and my life felt like it had ended - where was everyone? Where was anyone? In truth, my parents (and friends) are great people and I could care less about my parents going about their lives normally as Jennie and I combat our issues. They have my brother and Helen to help take care of and be excited about, that far outweighs anything Jennie and I deal with.  Being grandparents is the reward for wrinkles and aging bones. But for her to make that statement to me is a bit offensive.  The worst part? That's my own mother telling me something like that without even thinking about the larger picture.  I can only imagine the perspective that my brother and friends must have.

Not everything has been difficult. The past few weeks have been filled with several good things that I am very thankful for. My brother and his wife are progressing very well in their pregnancy - their twin girls seem to be doing very well and they have started to convert a room to a nursery.  My niece was born August 29th. She is beautiful and both her parents are doing well and are an even happier family now that their family has grown by another member. And earlier this month in October, Jennie and I took a memorable trip to Italy.

I saw my wife smile and enjoy herself while walking and taking in the sights of Rome and Florence. And looking back at some of the pictures we took while vacationing, I think you could almost mistake us for a couple taking a honeymoon in Italy.  Almost.

What they wouldn't see is that on some days we can barely hold each other up.  That we try and rejoice when we can with the people that mean the most to us. And when we do share those moments with the people we care about most, we DO lose ourselves and forget our problems and the constant state of coping that comes with infertility and, now, the uncertainty of adoption.  But those smiles and sounds of laughter are fleeting.  After spending time celebrating with our siblings families, even a  simple task of walking back to our car or driving back to our home......our life, can sometimes be like a temporary state of amnesia fading with the realities floating back into our minds.

The truth is, people do care, but they don't really want to hear everything.  They don't have time and they have their own problems and things they need to share. And I have to be willing to listen.  I know that in some way, they see me as the guy that makes jokes, fools around, and laughs loudly.  And only upon returning to that type of personality do they start to think things are okay.  Hanging out with us - with our current issues and depression, can't be an easy thing to experience.  I'm sure it's hard for our family and friends to see us going through these difficulties.  And so I don't bring up our adoption or infertility issues. Ever. And Jennie and I whole heartedly find joy in both our sibling's journey into becoming parents and raising a family.  Sometimes, though, I do find myself indulging and yearning.......in the hopes that some of the people in my life will know this:

Smiles are like Band-aids, they cover up the pain, but it still hurts underneath.