But after enduring 11 different placements in the past 8 years, Deryck got the only change he ever really wanted Saturday morning — a permanent and loving family.

At 10:48 a.m., Jefferson County District Court Judge Ann Meinster finalized his adoption to Mike and Kay Wolfe of Fountain.

Deryck was one of 18 adoptions finalized at the Jefferson County Courts and Administration Building Saturday as a part of National Adoption Day.

“We now have a 6’2″, 192 pound, bouncing baby boy,” Mike Wolfe said as he chuckled and gently nudged Deryck.

Wolfe, a retired mechanic, father of five and grandfather of nine, thought he was done raising children until a family friend persuaded him and Kay to try foster care three years ago.

The Wolfes began taking teenage boys into their home that they said felt “too big and too empty” after their children were gone.

“The moment we met Deryck, we knew he was special,” Kay said as she pushed back tears.

After Deryck had been in the Wolfes’ home for two-and-a-half years, Kay said, he asked her whether they would adopt him.

Kay admitted she was a little shocked but managed to reply, “Why would you want us to adopt you?”

“I don’t know,” the quiet teen said, “Maybe because you love me?”

Kay said she knew it was true and just six months after that conversation he is an official member of the Wolfe family.

Now Deryck says the only changes he wants are a driver’s license and car.

Nine of Colorado’s 22 judicial districts participated in the nationwide adoption event whose emphasis is pairing foster care children with “forever families.”

It is estimated that there are 107,000 youths in the U.S. foster care system awaiting adoption. Approximately 350 of those at any given time are in Colorado.

This is the seventh consecutive year that the adoption event has been celebrated by the Jefferson County Court. The judges present at Saturday’s festivities agree that it has become the court’s happiest day of the year.

Judge Brian Boatright, a former Jefferson County judge and new appointee to the Colorado Supreme Court, emceed the event, which included an after-party with food, balloons and face-painting.

As a father of two adopted children, Boatright managed to push back his emotions and charge the families.

“Adoption is a promise acted out over a lifetime,” he said.

-Weston Gentry

Where are we at? Without trying to sound like a complete downer, the fingerprints are still not approved, we’ve heard nothing from our agency, nothing from the young girl in Wyoming and that cute bedding is still staring at me in our son’s playroom. But most days that’s okay. Most days we don’t talk about it. The waiting has kind of become the norm. But I will admit that I can’t seem to go through a day without having some deep breath, downer moments in the silence of my own thoughts. Luckily, they pass quickly. After all, we’ve only been waiting for 3 months. But that’s 3 months longer than we waited for our dude.

Rather than focus this post on the lack of happenings in our world, I thought I’d share some “wisdom” regarding occurrences that have become the norm for us as adoptive parents. I would assume that many other adoptive families deal with the same “stuff.” When we went through adoption training 3 years ago, we found ourselves educated far more than we expected to be. Unless you learn this stuff from people on the inside, you’d probably never think of it. What am I talking about? Language was a big one. Below are some examples.

• Our son WAS adopted. Not IS adopted. Seems like an insignificant little difference, but IS defines him. And so he WAS adopted.

• And our son is our OWN child. “Will we have our OWN children?” many people ask when they find out he was adopted. He is our OWN child. And you try your best to leave it at that and not throw back a snide comment. I’m not so good at that one.

• We don’t have to whisper around our little man when talking about adoption. He’ll know all about his birth mom. The fact that he was adopted makes him that much more special and a gift from God. Whispering isn’t necessary.

• When people at the grocery store say things like “Oh you have your Mommy’s eyes don’t you?” or “You’re going to be so tall, just like Mommy and Daddy!” we smile, say, “yup!” and I wink at the dude. It’s our little secret – not one that we typically share with strangers.

• If you’re looking for a kosher word to use in regards to adoption situations, I would recommend “biological.” It’s not offensive. It’s a fact of nature.

These are all small little details that make a big difference in our world. And some day they’ll make a big difference in the dude’s world too. I’m sure other adoptive parents have their own bullet points to add.

Before I wrap this up, I’d like to put out an “ask” of sorts to my readers. I know many of you are involved in the adoption world and I’d love to start incorporating guest bloggers commentaries on adoption. SO….if you have something to say about the miracles and frustrations of adoption or you’d like to tell us your unique story, leave a comment with your blog and I’ll get in touch. Until next time- with the hope that the waiting game concludes before that time is upon us.

I went to BABIES R US…Why did I DO that?

We bought baby bedding. I know. Why would we do such a thing? We don’t even have the inkling of a placement at this point in time. I convinced myself that dude needed new sippy cups, so naturally, Babies R Us is the only place that I could go to find said sippy cups. And in lieu of sippy cups, I found baby boy crib bedding. And really cute onesies. And super soft blankets that every baby wants to be swaddled in. And I went home feeling giddy with baby glee and also really bitter at all the pregos walking around, ready to pop out their home grown newborns. It’s commonplace at BRU to look at every woman’s stomach as you pass by. How far along are YOU? They all look at me and assume that my flat stomach is shopping for gifts or that I’m overly gung ho in my very early stage pregnancy. And I have to tell you – I’m SO tempted to park in the “Parking for Expectant Mothers” spots every time. But I would be glared at.

Back to the “we bought bedding” issue. Why? Because this bedding is so beyond our “cute without being cutesy” standards and it was half off and we don’t like 99% of the boys bedding out there and I need something to get me in the baby mode. And so we bought bedding. And we’ll return it in 90 days if there’s still no sign of a bambino. And then my neighbor will come with me so she can re-buy it and we’ll then have another 90 days to hope for a reason to use it. And then if it’s still not happening I’ll return it again. And by that point I’ll be pretty darn depressed about it. What if we get a girl? Well, that’s a whole different issue. I haven’t found girly bedding that’s half off that meets my standards yet.

Welcome to my brain these days. I’m beyond the point of not thinking about our future family on a day to day basis. I think about it. And I daydream about it. And I make up birth moms in my head and analyze what our relationship will be like with her. And I wonder what color skin the little dude or dudette will have and what pitch their cry will be. Don’t worry – I’m not obsessing. It’s just becoming more of a reality than it was before. Why? I don’t know since my fingerprints are still sitting on an FBI agent’s desk somewhere, waiting to be rejected again. Yes, we’re still waiting on that. Our agency won’t put us online nationally until this happens. They say they’ll show our book locally if a birth mom matches us, so we’re banking on that promise at this point.

What’s the point of this random post? We’re ready. I’m ready. And trying my darndest not to be “too ready.” So for now I’ll be working on living my life as is and hope hope hoping for baby news sooner than later. And I’ll hide that super cute bedding in the depths of my guest room closet where I can only get a glimpse of the cuteness from time to time.

(stock photo by lusi)

I was at the fertility doc last week. Not for fertility treatment…just for a yearly check up on the state of my uterus and its surrounding neighbors. That office and I struggle with a balance of deep fondness and complete repulsion. Part of me wants to sit there all day, just to be surrounded with other women whose everyday reality includes laporoscopies, mysterious bloody masses, hysterosalpingograms, IVF as the only means to getting knocked up, endo, calculated ovulation relations schedule….you get the drift. Many of these women walk out with tears welling up, some just look empty and defeated, some are super hopeful and others are rejoicing that their little swimmers and femaleness finally clicked into a little bean. Whatever the case, I get it and I find overwhelming peace in the fact that they get it too.

On the other hand, I hate that place. Because when they close the exam room door and it’s just me, my quirky doctor and the stirrups, the ugly truth comes out. And it doesn’t change year to year. It’s not the infertility issue that gets me. I’m past that, most days. My ugly truth lies in my body being a jumbled version of what it should be. Like I said earlier, I’m frequently asked why I can’t get pregnant. Why we chose adoption. And it’s a long story -a beautiful, long story, but long none-the-less. I’m going to attempt to explain it in a not so long way.

I have endometriosis. It’s actually much more common in women than most people would guess, but not everyone’s bodies revolt as a result of the disease. Mine does. When I get my period, rather than exiting my body like good blood should, my blood escapes and forms little parties (clots) around my organs. My endo has attached to my intestines, causing lots of irritable bowel issues, to my fallopian tubes, causing my hubbie’s little swimmers to get stuck and not able to get through to the promise land, to my urinary tract, resulting in UTIs, and most recently, it chose to call my appendix home, resulting in the removal of that useless mass of tissue.

My freshman year of college I had surgery (laporoscopy #1) to see if I had endometriosis. I had nauseous crampage that would keep me out of school, so they wanted to test the waters and unfortunately, surgery is the only way they can diagnose endo. I was just a phase 1, which is the best phase to be if you’re going to have the endo curse. They scraped out the masses of blood, gave me 3 months worth of injections that put me through menopause and left me on constant birth control. Meaning, no periods. If I get my period, the disease can come right back. Side note, menopause is NOT for sissies. I started dating my husband that first month and God bless him for sticking with me. If I wasn’t sweating buckets in the middle of Freshman history class during a Michigan winter, I was emotional and crying. But we survived.

After 2 years of fertility treatments and 3 years of unsuccessfully trying to get prego, I had laporoscopy #2. Just to see what was going on in there, if anything. I had only been off the pill for 3 years, so they didn’t think it would be too bad. Wrong answer. I was a Phase 4. The worst case my doc had ever seen. Really? Had he asked my permission, he told Tim he would have done a hysterectomy. Glad he didn’t. They took out my appendix, removed countless blood congregations and sent me home, drugged and drooling. But endo free.

We adopted our dude a few months later and I went back on constant birth control. The bad news, bc is no longer my miracle option. My body is so insistent on getting periods that it’s starting to release the flow every month, regardless of the little pills I take religiously. This is problematic because of the nauseating crampage I get and because the endo could be coming back. Solution? I wish there was a good one. As my doc says, “I don’t want to sound like a beotch, but you WILL have a complete hysterectomy before you’re 40. This endo wants you and it wants you bad. I hate this disease and I hate what it does to my patients!” So, that’s the long term solution. Until then, I deal. It is what it is. Nothing to do but love and accept my endo and talk behind its back like I’m doing right now. What’s it gonna do, take away my fertility? Hah hah. I love this obnoxious disease because it gave me my dude and my life, really. And I hate it because I can. Gosh darnit, I can.

So that’s the long and short of why we can’t get prego. I can’t stay off the pill long enough to really give it a good try. And we’re not going down the IVF trail. Got close to that and it was definitely the worst 2 years of our lives. And it’s just as much financially, if not more, as adoption – how could we spend that much and probably not even get pregnant when we could end up with another little adoption miracle? And so we adopt. Rather, we wait to adopt. Yes, still waiting to wait. No movement on the fingerprint issue. The FBI hasn’t budged. Imagine that.

Guest Blogger Gwen is expecting…for the second time. And once again, no baby bump or stretch-marks will grace her with their pending bambino. Step inside their world of growing a family through adoption. Follow along here at Mile High Mamas and her blog and get a candid feel for the ups, downs, highs, lows and surprises that go hand in hand with the struggles of infertility and the miracle of adoption.

On Wednesday we finished our home visit. Our railings were inspected, smoke detectors tested, the two fire extinguishers we own were verified, the homemade evacuation plan I scribbled up was reviewed and we were interviewed about every aspect of our life you could dream up. The only items we failed on were owning an evacuation ladder for the bedrooms, plugs for all our 159 outlets and written proof of fire drills. Yes. I’m sure all of you do regular fire drills at home with your children. We will need to do two or three before we’re approved to parent again. Our case worker was lovely and very sensitive, so that did make what could have been an interrogation much more pleasant.

Today we’ll call in to make a $1,500 payment. Our agency is more than gracious with their patience in our payment delays. They know that the typical adoptive family doesn’t have $20,000 hanging out in their junk drawer and have been incredibly sensitive to that. This current payment will bring us up to about half of where we need to be on the payment scale. And we’ll keep saying prayers that the rest will reveal itself to us in the near future.

All this may sound like whining. It’s really not. Well, partially it is. Half of me says, “I’ll do whatever I need to do to add a member to our family. It’s all worth the end result and I’ll do it with a smile.” The other half of me says, “Really? I need to prove my capabilities to parent when 16-year-old babies can pop out children with no questions asked? Where is their CPR and First Aid requirement and their proof of no sexually transmitted diseases? Where is their home study visit, proving that there are no emotional issues preventing them from successfully raising a healthy, well-balanced child?” Most of the time I take the mental high road. It’s just weeks like this past one where your personal space, physical being and emotional well being are invaded that bring out the bitter adoptive parent in me. I’ll get over it. The second I see the face of our new son or daughter, this all evaporates and becomes a part of the journey. I just need patience in getting to that point.

Guest Blogger Gwen is expecting…for the second time. And once again, no baby bump or stretch-marks will grace her with their pending bambino. Step inside their world of growing a family through adoption. Follow along here at Mile High Mamas and her blog and get a candid feel for the ups, downs, highs, lows and surprises that go hand in hand with the struggles of infertility and the miracle of adoption.

We all have our own “stuff.” The “stuff” that drags us down, causes emotional and physical havoc, brings us to tears, causes us to ask “really, why me?” My “stuff” is a charming disease called endometriosis and its sidekick, infertility. They’ve made a career out of working together to make a dynamic duo in my body. For a long time, I cursed this dynamic duo and spent a whole lot of time with the “why me” stuff. Until I saw the ironic beauty of their partnership.

After 2 surgeries and 2 years of fertility drugs, poking and prodding, we put a stop to the madness that took over our life, thoughts, dreams….no more. We walked through the doors of Bethany Christian Services in Denver and never looked back. They educated us on the reality of adoption in the current century, put us at ease and got us rollin’ with growing our family. Three months after walking in those doors, our case worker called me at work. The conversation went something like this….

“It’s ‘Melissa.’ Are you sitting down?”

“Yes. Sitting. Are you still coming over tonight to approve our home study?”

“Well, yes, but first, you were chosen.”

“Chosen for what?”

“A baby, Gwen.”

Silence.

“But we just handed our profile book in yesterday.”

“I know. This is a first for us, but you guys were chosen by a birth mom in Grand Junction . We overnighted your book to her yesterday and she chose you. It’s a boy.”

Silence. More silence. A gaping jaw on my end. And more silence.

“There’s more. He’s born. And you can pick him up in 2 days if you decide it’s a good fit.”

The rest of that glorious day is a complete blur. I called my husband. I called my mom and dad. I called our best friends. I didn’t cry. I didn’t internalize much of anything. That night we registered at the totally foreign “Babies R Us” with friends in a complete haze. The 800 versions of bottle nipples looked like alien creatures to us, but we didn’t have much time.

We spoke on the phone to the birth mom and her mother the next day. Never have I been that nervous to talk to an 18 year old girl in my life. I cried. I heard his little whimper in the background and it started to sink in. My son? Really? Was it that simple? She told us she really liked us, and she wasn’t changing her mind. She liked that we were old enough to be mature but still young enough to be “cool.” Her only disappointment was that we didn’t have a cat. I guess she was willing to overlook that small detail.

A massive baby shower took place the next day. I cried then too. People came out of the woodwork to support us. They brought bouncy seats, tiny baby socks, books, high chairs, burp cloths, onesies….we didn’t know what half this stuff was even for. Gifts arrived on our doorstep for a year. One whole year. From people we didn’t even know. In 2 days, our house looked like baby central. We were ready to pick up our little dude.

Then the birth father contested the placement the night before we were supposed to go pick him up. That was an angry week. A very angry week. But under God’s grace and provision, a week later, that all worked itself out. We drove our blue Volvo sedan to Golden, where he was staying in a foster care home through our agency. Given the birth father drama, we wanted him in a more stable environment while the kinks were worked out. “Melissa” met us in the driveway, holding this little sleeping blue bundle. We floated to greet her and held our little man for the first time. He slept for 45 minutes while we filled out paperwork and learned about his first 3 weeks in the world. The foster family loved him like their own and blessed him with the care that he so desperately needed during that week.

We showed up that morning as a family of two and came home a family of three. Just like that. Surreal. Completely surreal. It’s at that point that I started thanking God for my “stuff.” For blessing me with infertility. And for giving me the patience to see the beauty through all that ugliness. And for gifting us with a little miracle that we can’t begin to imagine life without. Thank God for “stuff.”

We’re expecting. For the second time. Technically we’re about 2 days along with ohhh, 2 months, maybe 9 months, who knows…maybe 2 years to go before the teeny weeny joins our family. The first time around, we were “expecting” for 3 months and BOOM! Our little dude entered our home and invaded our professional, financial and personal lives, but most importantly, our hearts, in a matter of 24 hours. Just..like…that. I am (was) a planner. Big time. And there’s no planning when you’re traveling down the adoption road. We learned that firsthand with our dude, so we’re holding on tight this round. Holding tight to faith, hope, patience and most importantly, our senses of humor.

Why this blog? Well, we’re starting the process again, pretty much from scratch. We’re pumped…we’re anxious…we’re giddy and we’re overwhelmed. The hardest part for me though is that the most important people in our lives, in addition to complete strangers, don’t really get what this all means for us. They’re not sure how we’re feeling from day to day and they don’t want to intrude. They don’t want to assume or not assume or over ask or under ask. It can be isolating, so we’re trying to find ways to show people what this process looks and feels like. And it’s tough. Infertility and adoption are like so many situations in life…if you haven’t lived it, understanding it is impossible. And we get that. Many people see the “Hollywood adoption” as the norm, but common folk in the real world don’t hop on a private jet, swoop up a child in distress and live happily ever after in their home in the hills.

And so here I go. My intent is to walk you through a domestic (in-USA) adoption. This freaks me out a bit, since we have no clue what’s going to happen. We just got our paperwork this week and we’re spending some time observing the mound of whiteness…allowing it to get lost on the kitchen table for a good while before we tackle it. And I mean tackle it. So join us. I promise to be honest and candid and will try to avoid a ton of “sap.” The sap does come with the territory though. It’s just a given. Check back for updates from time to time. Get a feel for what it’s like to be “expecting,” minus the baby bump and the stretch-marks.

Guest Blogger Gwen is expecting…for the second time. And once again, no baby bump or stretch-marks will grace her with their pending bambino. Step inside their world of growing a family through adoption. Follow along here at Mile High Mamas and her blog and get a candid feel for the ups, downs, highs, lows and surprises that go hand in hand with the struggles of infertility and the miracle of adoption.

Motherhood has its ups and downs. For every mother I’ve ever observed, learned from, been close to – here’s to the bumpy ride.

Lei can be found blogging at My Many Colored Days.

Darling Husband and I met in 2001 via an online dating service. By the time we actually met in person I had been in the singles scene for several months and was pretty much over it. Being single in your early 30s is not for the faint of heart and DH was my third first date that week. It was insane and I was absolutely exhausted. I had been on a mission to find someone I could envision being more than just a pud on my couch (and not completely psycho). You would think I wasn’t asking for much. Think again! Completely disgusted by what all was out there I came close to canceling our lunch date and taking an extended hiatus from dating. Not wanting to be a last-minute flake I begrudgingly went.

As soon as I laid eyes on him, I was glad I did.

We wed in 2006 and, as soon as that ring hit my finger, the Baby Making Plan was set into motion. Now in my late 30s I was very aware we were starting our family late. The pressure was on. I gave us a year to conceive the old-fashioned way and if in that time we did not, Plan B would be put into action.. adoption. My big fear was that we would try and try to no avail then wake up five years down the line sans kids. We were going to have a family one way or another.

The following year I was all about Basal Thermometers, Ovulex, zero caffeine, eating right and Clear Blue Easy EVERYTHING. I morphed into the girl obsessed with becoming pregnant. Never in a million years did I think I would become “that girl” but boy howdy, did I ever.

The first six months the doctors told us not to fret.. sometimes it just takes time. As each month ground along and it became clear yet again I wasn’t pregnant, the tears would come and sadness would set in. I felt pangs of failure. Tests were run to make sure everything was normal and they showed no signs of issues. Suggestions were made to try IVF but we declined. I have friends that have gone that route with great success but that just wasn’t for us. We were doing this old school.

When our year was up with no conception, Plan B was set into motion. I will not lie, I wanted nothing more than to have a baby with my husband’s beautiful hazel eyes and my kooky sense of humor. I wanted to experience the miracle of life firsthand. The reality is, we don’t always get what we want and it’s not in our hands. I was not going to let not being able to get pregnant ruin our little life… it wasn’t going to get the best of me.

All along I had been doing my research on the different types of adoption (private, international, fost/adopt, open vs closed, etc) “just in case”. I found people that had gone through the different processes and picked their brains about their own journey. I went online and researched. As obsessed as I was to get pregnant I was with finding the right adoption program for us. I bounced my findings off DH and listened to his thoughts and feelings on the subject matter. It was a team effort.

What spoke to our hearts was the fost/adopt program with a local county. Although it’s not the county we live in, after doing our homework we were immediately impressed by their total commitment to their children, their stellar reputation and their genuine love for what they do. There were 400 children in their foster program, these kids are in our backyard.. .for us, it was a no brainer.

The deal was not done just yet. It’s a huge decision and DH still needed more information. On December 5th, 2007 we attended a Family Share Night put on by the county. It was set up like speed dating. We sat at a table of about 12 people and someone involved with the program would sit down, give their story and field questions. Social workers, foster only families, fost adopt families, families that adopted special needs kids, etc. After 10 minutes or so a bell would ring and they were on to the next table. It was a fantastic way to get a feel for all different aspects of the program and have the tough questions answered.

On our way home, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, DH agreed this was the program for us and to sign up for training. After what felt like I had been holding my breath for a year, I finally exhaled. It wasn’t the road I ever imagined we would be taking to start a family of our own, but it had finally begun. For once, progress!

That very moment was the first real step of our adoption journey.

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National Adoption Day is a collective national effort to raise awareness of the 129,000 children in foster care waiting to find permanent, loving families. For the last eight years, National Adoption Day has made the dreams of thousands of children come true by working with courts, judges, attorneys, adoption professionals, child welfare agencies and advocates to finalize adoptions and find permanent, loving homes for children in foster care.

Celebrated in all 50 states, the District of Columbia and Puerto Rico, more than 300 events are held each year throughout the country to finalize the adoptions of children in foster care, and to celebrate all families who adopt. In total, more than 20,000 children have been adopted from foster care on National Adoption Day. This year, National Adoption Day will be Saturday, November 15, 2008.