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?