No more privacy

Today's visit to CIS (the former INS now reborn into the US Department of Homeland Security as Citizenship & Immigration Service) was a pivotal one for me. It was a public declaration that I am adopting. It can no longer be confused for a figment of my imagination or folly. It is official. It's also official that my fingerprints are now on file with the FBI so any potential criminal misconduct better be completed with gloves (for those of you in law enforcement, this is only a joke, I like telling jokes, seriously).
I was impressed by how official everything was. As soon as I got off the elevator there were two very nice men with guns that greeted me, searched my purse and scanned me for weapons. Who knew people might actually attempt to 'break in' at the CIS office? After a few minutes in chairs, I was lead to a back room for fingerprints. These aren't your daddy's or granddaddy's fingerprints--welcome to the digital age! My hands were thoroughly cleaned and then the technician carefully rolled each finger onto a scanner. She was quick to point out that I was dehydrated because my fingertips were very wrinkled and pruney looking. I felt reassured when a minute later another technician walked by, looked at our screen, and commented "nice print". Evidently years of avoiding all things hot has paid off; all my whorls and arches (that's the name of the ridges on your tips according to the poster on their wall) are very clean and precise. Unlike so many other people, my hands don't sweat and are extremely dry. We had some difficulty in the seconds between wiping my fingertip and laying it on the scanner to keep it wet. If all goes well, I should have my I-171H in the next 2-3 weeks. Hallelujah!
If my privacy felt somewhat translucent this morning, it didn't get much better this afternoon. I picked up a prescription at the drug store and some pharmacist recommended cough medicine. I was required to show my driver's license, sign and complete another document pertaining to the pseudo epinephrine I was purchasing. Yikes.
When I returned home there was a package on the step from ChinaSprout.com. I had ordered some red thread bracelets, and yes, I realize that these are the equivalent of buying a miniature Eiffel Tower when in Paris, but I still wanted one! I plan on wearing two; one for me and one that I will give to MayLing when we are united. I also purchased a calendar featuring the daughters and sons of the Indiana branch of FCC. My plan is to give it to my grandmother for Christmas. She does not know yet of the adoption and I plan to spring it on her this weekend! Yes, slightly evil for someone to do to an 84 year-old, but my family is all about shock value! She has made some racist comments in the past that I am sure she felt were actually compliments. As a teenager a Chinese friend of mine came for Christmas and after spending a few days around my friend, my grandmother said to her, "You must be one of the good ones." Although Grandma is not an active part of my life (3 days in 365) I want her to feel connected to her great-granddaughter. I'm hoping that looking at this beautiful calendar with all the beautiful children will help with that. I am realistic and know that one calendar will not change 84 years of thinking.

What's in a Fortune Cookie?

Today's fortune:

"Now is the time to call loved ones at a distance. Share your news."

Is that a hint?

Sweet Dreams, Sweet Child

I dreamed of my daughter last night. It wasn't the first dream I've had of her, and I hope it won't be the last, but this one stuck out as different to me. The first felt like an introduction, and in a sense, it was. I was only a few weeks into my paper chase and was living, breathing, speaking adoption. Normally when I dream, the people are faceless. I know my friends and family not by their face, but how I feel about them and the aura (for lack of a better word) that they leave behind. The first dream showed a sweet round-faced toddler with a bobbed chin-length hair cut. She was looking back at me from the sandbox, reassured that I was there watching her. I felt like I was seeing her through a camera lens. Last night I had two separate dreams of MayLing. In the first she is in grade school, no older than seven or eight years old. She is talking to me excitedly about her friends and her day at school. I remember focusing on her lips and thinking that they looked similar to mine and thinking with pride "this is my daughter!" The second dream she is older, probably in her twenties and an independent adult. Instead of her talking to me, we are sitting next to each other talking as equals much the way my mother and I interact when we are together. In a sense it felt as if my life had flashed before my eyes and I had a sense of what my future would be like. Even with the frustrations of my day, I kept coming back to the face of my daughter, a daughter that likely isn't even born yet. In these moments I feel so close to her and I pray that she is healthy and safe and that her birth mother is healthy and safe.
This morning when I read the local paper, I saw that the Associated Press had published the story of the new guidelines and the restrictions put forth by the CCAA that will soon go into affect. My heart breaks that MayLing may be my only child, but I am also assured that some day she will come home and we will be family. Until then, I will just have to dream about her.