No One Can Accuse Me of Not Going Through Labor

For two months, our attempt at another adoption has been at a stand still, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

Last week, I found out that there was something I could do, so I seized the day.

I left the house at 10:45 am, after my Swahili lesson.  I got home at 4:45 pm.  That is six hours, in case you are counting.

I traveled approximately 28 miles, round trip.  However, four of those six hours were spent in the car, in traffic.  For 28 miles.  Welcome to Dar es Salaam.

I went to two social welfare offices.  One social worker was incredibly helpful, though considering she had never been given a filing cabinet, had to search for my paperwork through a series of plastic bags.  The other social worker was not very happy to see me, but grudgingly accepted my paperwork.

I got lost on the way home because road construction sent me down streets I was not familiar with.  I accidentally drove down a one-way street…..right next to a police station.  I got a ticket.  They wanted to give me two tickets, but I managed to squeeze out a few tears and they only gave me one.

After all of that, finally, things are moving again.  We still don’t have a final answer as to whether we will be allowed to adopt a fourth child, but at least we’re moving in the right direction.

I’ve never been through actual birth labor.  But this kind of labor has got to count for something, right?