A Sad Story, a Random Story and a Funny Story

We are gearing up to head to Minneapolis in just a few days for the national orphan summit. We will have the opportunity to meet some of our wonderful blogger friends in person and we can't wait! Since I have been MIA on the blog lately as a result of all of the happenings with our orphan care ministry, I have had to save up three stories that I have been wanting to share. Here goes:

1. The Sad Story. I was never - and I truly mean never - sick before we had kids. When I got so (SO) sick with the flu a few weeks ago, I decided that I had to go see a doctor. I ended up going to see a random doc that I had only seen once a few years ago. (Did you catch that? She had only seen me ONCE before this encounter; that will matter later). She diagnosed me with some random flu virus and a flare-up of mono and said that there wasn't much to be done as these were both viral issues. I was sent home and told to rest (which is really easy to do with two toddlers). Anyway, a week later she called me in person at home to check up on me. I thought that was nice given that doctors rarely do that these days. She then proceeded to tell me that she didn't want to frighten me but that multiple viral infections can be early signs of HIV infection (they can also result from exhaustion!). "I know your children are from Africa..." she said. I had mentioned that I was adopting children from Africa when I saw her two years ago. Nevermind that she had ZERO information about my sexual history (the main way HIV is spread!) and ZERO information on the medical status of my children. She just assumed that since they were from Africa, they must have HIV and therefore could have infected me. WHOA. I could not believe it. I proceeded to tell her that my daughters and I had had no exchanges of blood (did she need a refresher on how HIV is spread?!) and that neither I nor their pediatrician had any reason to believe that the girls were anything but healthy. Our conversation then evolved into something like this:

"Well, were they tested...?" she asked.

"Yes, they were tested multiple times and all tests showed they were negative for HIV."

"Oh...Well, you're probably ok then."

What was frustrating in this experience is the rampant stereotyping seen here ("all Africans have HIV") from a medical doctor. To just drop the "You may have HIV" bomb on me without ever having tested me - or my kids - and knowing almost nothing about me (who I am sleeping with or have slept with) just blew my mind. Needless to say, I am hoping to find another GP.

2. The Random Story. So, as I have shared before, I have become fairly evangelical about orphans and adoption. That seems to be a fairly common experience for adoptive parents upon their return from the developing countries from which their children originate. It excites me that I am now the "orphan lady" on town. It's a mantle I will gladly wear. Recently, I was leaving my gym when one of the trainers who knows I have adopted children called me over to the front counter where he was talking with a tall, blonde-haired, young woman in black glasses. He introduced us and told me she wanted to adopt in the future. I of course lit up and launched into my "adoption rocks" speech while also answering some questions she had. I told her that I'd be happy to give her my phone number in the event she wanted to talk further. I also wanted to connect her with our ministry. She put my number in her phone and that was that. I found out the next day from another trainer I know who also knows her that she is a hard-core porn star. Yes, you read that correctly. A porn star. She is training with the guy I know to lose weight for her next "film". So now I, "orphan lady", have my cell number in a porn star's phone. Not sure what to do with that one. My brother reminded me that is why you ask people for their business cards rather than giving out your number. Oops.

3. A Funny Story. It has been raining here lately. I say that to provide context. The other day, Junia decided after seeing some bathing suits at Target that she needed a new one. She is obsessed with the fact that she is growing and told me she is now too big for her old bathing suit. Her old suit probably still fits fine but I opted to humor her as a reward for good behavior. We went to Target and she picked out a very cute white suit with ruffles for $7. The next morning at 6am I was awakened by a little face right in mine whispering loudly "MOMMY! I need help." There in front of my sleep-filled eyes was the Big Bear with her little face squished into the leg hole of her bathing suit which was wrapped precariously around the top of her head. Her wild AM curls were sticking out every possible opening of the suit. She was adamant that she had to put her bathing suit on right then and there at that very moment (at 6am!) - even though it was raining. She ran around the entire morning in her bathing suit unwilling to be coaxed out of it for any reason. I somehow managed to get her to add her bathrobe to the ensemble for warmth. Look out summer, here we come.