Thursday, June 30

Today is a frustrating day, as we've passed the one week mark since we learned that our visa was approved, and there's still no word on it getting shipped. To be fair, there generally isn't any word that it's been shipped, especially not word that gets shared with the waiting family. Still, all of our contacts asking all of their contacts still have nothing, which leads us to believe that there is indeed nothing happening. This is bordering on unacceptable.

It would be one thing if there was a reason for the delay. We've known of families who have been here spanning holidays, and that causes delays. We've known of families who have some quirk with their paperwork, and that causes delays. We've even heard stories of packages shipped, but delayed on the way, not finding space on the airplanes on which they catch rides. There are reasons, and as frustrating as they would be, at least one would know what the deal is. We're just waiting for someone to take our bundle of papers, stick it in an envelope, and hand it to the shipping company. Or maybe that's happened, but whatever information follows hasn't been shared.

As much as we want to go home, all we really want right now is some information. We're information junkies, who come from an information household, in an information society. Surely it'd be easy enough for someone to find out “oh, it's sitting on this table waiting for something,” or “yeah, we sent that out already, but it's waiting here or there,” or “whoops, we have that here but overlooked it for some reason.” It's the not knowing that sucks the most.

We woke up and each dashed for the Mac, seeking information from our e-mail. None was there. We sent out e-mail to our adoption agency and our other contacts. There's a time delay, we know. As we're waking up, everyone there is winding their workday down. We get it. We're stuck with a day-long lag in responses, and we're sadly getting used to it.

After learning nothing and sending our queries, we went to the restaurant for some breakfast. Uncle Sam was the only other patron, but he was sitting in the far corner, and looked to be wrapping up his breakfast. We ordered our coffee, and he made his way out, bantering a few lines as he passed. We got our food and lamented our lack of information.

While eating, we realized that today is the last day anything's going to happen for a while anyway. Tomorrow is a Marshallese national holiday: Fisherman's Day. All of the government offices are going to be shut down, including the U.S. embassy. They don't work on weekends, of course. And then Monday is U.S. Independence Day, so the embassy will also be closed for that. If we don't hear anything today, we won't hear anything until Tuesday. Of course, in Manilla tomorrow is just Friday, so it could be that they could still send the package, and for the rest of the Marshall Islands, Monday is just Monday, so DHL could receive and handle the package. We just won't be able to get it until Tuesday or later.

We're quite probably going to end up sticking with our current travel plans and leave on Wednesday, even if we get our package well in advance.

If we got the package sooner, we'd have to get in contact with the airline people (who have an office by the Payless, but who may not be working due to the holiday weekend) and try to arrange flights all the way through. There might be delays or hiccups or whatever, making the extra effort a little moot at this point. We are kicking ourselves for not spending the few extra dollars to secure first-class seats all the way back. We hope to be able to upgrade with the miles we have, but there's no guarantee at this point.

We discussed some options and decided that maybe we'd look for some way to try to rattle a chain, or something to make us feel a little empowered anyway. Despite previous direction to the contrary, we decided to make a polite inquiry. We returned to our room and took a look at our e-mail to see if any news had been shared.

Our agency responded. We were admonished for learning what we had the way we had, and further scolded and told to let things just take their due course. This was a little unsettling, as all we had asked was to see if they had any way to get any information. Again, while we want to be able to go home, it's more about knowing what's going on with our stuff. We've got other people to inform, and we have no information for them. We look bad, we feel dumb, and we're not used to either of those things. Usually when we want to know something, we can find out something more than “you shouldn't be asking questions.”

Really, people, we're not asking for anything to change in the process, or for any special favors to get things done any faster than usual. We would just like to know what's going on, and maybe correct an oversight that has allowed our package to sit approved but unsent for over a week, or to learn that it's been sent, but no one has or wanted to share that information.

Frustration is getting the better of us, though, so we reached out to one of Minnesota's senators. She is an advocate for adoption reform. She wants to streamline the process and improve the experience and all kinds of family-friendly things. On her website, she's got a contact one can use if one is experiencing difficulties, and thinks maybe a U.S. senator might help. We sent a query.

I also sent a note to my aunt and uncle, who were (or maybe still are) politically active, and elbow-rubbing with all kinds of legislative types. I'm not sure that they would know anyone who could do or inquire about anything either, but it doesn't hurt to ask.

We received a call from Maddy, who said she was outside the hotel waiting for our birthmother to arrive. Claire went out to meet them, and shortly after they all came back to the room.

We sat around and chatted for a while, lamenting our information dilemma. We shared that our experience with the island and the people we've met has been fantastic. We're not trying to rush out or anything, but we're in our sixth week here, and we have things we need to return and tend to at home.

And then the handicrafts were broken out. Maddy admitted that she didn't know how to do any of the handicraft stuff, and was amazed at the quality of work our birthmother could do. The gals sat on the floor for a bit as our birthmother flew through some construction, and Claire did some at a little slower pace, and Maddy gave it a good try. I'm not much for floor sitting, so I played host, including running across the street to fetch some sodas.

After a while, Maddy had to make an exit for another appointment she had. Our birthmother stuck around to do more work in the comfort and quiet of the hotel room. I picked up the Mac and filled out this post, and checked more e-mail and tried to help Claire decipher our birthmother's gestures and English. Claire's still got a problem with the accent parts even when the English is otherwise pretty clear.

For example, my name is often said with a bit of a “ch” sound, as in “chess,” or with a hint of a “z” sound, as in “zeff.” They have a dessert here they call “Alaska cake,” but they pronounce “Alaska” more like “ah la ska,” with the accent hitting the last syllable more than the second. So even when English is spoken, there's some hint of the Marshallese pronunciation of the letters or words.

The gals just left, taking Grace with them, to get some handicraft supplies. I've been tasked with ordering a take-out pizza downstairs. Given the speeds of each errand, it'll probably be an hour before we regroup.

I'm going to do a quick check of e-mail, and while I'm there, I'll put a mid-day post. It's evening in the U.S. now, so maybe some will find it amusing to be as up-to-date as we've been so far.