Evacuation Planning 2012-2025 Form

I was actually roommates with someone in College whose parents decided to have him “off-grid”. Let me just say this: Stop even entertaining the idea of having a baby off-grid. It really makes your child’s life unnecessarily hard and your kid will forever resent you for putting that pain on them.I’ll get into the details in a moment, but first let me address the question proposed above. Yes, technically speaking it is not a crime to have your baby off-the-grid in the U.S.A. However, a lot of details surrounding the event would be illegal. First of all, any licensed midwife or doctor is required by law to file a birth certificate or they actually risk losing their license and getting a misdemeanor. If you forced them or threatened them to not file the birth certificate that would make you a likely accomplice and would not go over well with the authorities.But let’s ignore that for a moment and just assume you know how to birth a child on your own and can do it in your basement without any professional medical physician there to oversee you (which would be the only way you could pull this off). In this case you wouldn’t get thrown in jail for failing to get a birth certificate and no crime would have been committed. However you just set up a very difficult life for your child.These are some of the things I was told from by my roommate who didn’t have a social security number until he was 20 years old.No, he could not get a (legal) jobQuite literally he didn’t qualify to get even a job at McDonalds. If you remember the last job you got no matter how prestigious or demeaning it was, you had to fill out a bunch of paperwork. Most of these forms require you to have a SSN (social security number) to properly fill them out. However the important one is the form labeled I-9. This form is required to be submitted by every employer after hiring a new employee. This form serves only one purpose, to determine that you are eligible to work in the United States. Your child (and my roommate) would not be able to complete this form which every employer must get filled out before starting employment with a new employee. Your child will not be able to get a job because of this.Yes, he can evade paying taxes.Okay, so this sounds like a perk I guess. But my roommate did not have to pay taxes. The government basically didn’t know he existed, so they never knew he was not paying. But then again he didn’t have a job. So would you rather have a job and pay some taxes or not ever be able to work except under the table for below minimum wage? Given that choice, taxes sound pretty awesome! Keep in mind that this also means your child is not eligible for any tax benefits or credits such as those that students get while going to college.No, You as the parent can not claim him as a dependent on your taxesYou’re already dealing with a child, wouldn’t it be great to get that child tax credit? Every year you'll basically be paying out of pocket for deciding not to get them a SSN.Yes, he can attend public school through 12th gradeHe would be able to attend school through high school without a social security number.No, he can not attend collegeWhile high school and lower education is okay, your child will never be able to attend collegeYes, he can go to the doctorThe doctor will still see your child and provide him his shots. However…No, he will not be covered under your family insurance (or qualify for Medicare/Medicaid)So you’ll need to plan on paying for all doctor appointments out of pocket.No, he can not travel abroad (even to Canada)You’d best hope none of your child’s friends decide to go to Cancun for spring break. Your child will not be eligible to leave the country or return to the US if he manages to leave (unless he plans to climb Trump’s wall)No, he will not be able to drive a carOkay, well nothing is stopping him from physically driving a car, but he would not be able to get a driver’s license and thus, can not LEGALLY drive. Hope he doesn’t get pulled over.No, he will not be able to voteOnce old enough he will not be able to register to vote.Yes, he can avoid the draftWell the good news is that like taxes, he can skirt the requirement to join the draft when he turns 18.No, he can’t get a loanThis means no credit cards, no car loan, no home, nothing. I’m sure plenty of people will claim these are all evil anyway, but these have powerful impacts on someone’s life. There might be times he needs it. (and when used properly none of these are bad things).No, he will not have a credit scoreThis goes with the above one, but he will not be able to work on this which affects your entire life/future. This also will disqualify him from renting most homes or apartments he is looking at.Basically your child will be treated as an illegal immigrant. Why put them through this when they are entitled to the benefits that the United States provides its citizens? There are people in other countries dying to get what your child is entitled to and you are (considering) denying your child those abilities? It just doesn’t make sense.Get them a SSN and if your child decides at 20 that he wants to live off-the-grid than he can burn his Social Security Card and go in the woods and hide from the government. But don’t be selfish enough to make that decision for them.My roommate resents his parents for not giving him a SSN. While all his friends in high school were driving, he couldn’t. While his friends go to Cancun for spring break, he had golden handcuffs in the U.S. and can’t leave. And worst of all he said was that while all his friends were earning money from jobs in high school, he couldn’t get a job.The job part was the hardest for him. He couldn’t leave the house or move out when he turned 18. He was stuck at home.Him working on getting a social security number was difficult and took him two years. He started when he turned 18 to get one once he realized he couldn’t go to college, he couldn’t get a job, he couldn’t rent an apartment, and thus will never really be able to be independent from his parents. It took two years and then at 20 he was able to get one and start working and going to school.He forever resented his parents. Don’t be those parents…

I was going to answer anonymously because I’m sure some who see this are going to be confused. Why is a man talking about pregnancy and abortion as if he knows what it’s like? Well because I have a uterus and have given birth. I also thought about being anonymous to protect myself in general. I decided against it. So with that out of the way, my story.I was the poster child for reasons why women are generally accepted to be allowed to have abortions.When I was 19 I became pregnant. It was too soon, I was too young, I had no real job prospects, could barely take care of myself. The father wasn’t involved in the least and was heavily into drug use. We were using condoms, but one of them broke and now here we were with me pregnant and him looking for a way out. I didn’t have an abortion. My son was adopted and is now a happy and healthy 18 year old man on the other side of the country.When I was in my mid twenties, I was in an abusive relationship. This relationship resulted in two children that were not born of consensual sex. The consent stopped within a couple of months, but by the time the beatings and the rape started I was too mentally and emotionally broken down to recognize it. My children were born from rape and abuse, but I didn’t have an abortion.I became pregnant with my older daughter while using the pill and condoms. Both failed. When I conceived my youngest, I was using the pill and an IUD. Both failed. My children were born despite my attempts to prevent pregnancy, but I still didn’t have an abortion.When I went in for the first appointment with my youngest child, my doctor was shocked and horrified that I’d become pregnant with an IUD in place. It was something he hadn’t seen before in his own practice, or at least not that he’d seen where the IUD hadn’t fallen out or gotten dislodged. And this wasn’t a young doctor, he was the doctor that delivered me. He did an ultrasound to check the placement of the IUD. Nope, it was in the right spot. He couldn’t find an embryo though. This meant one of three things. Either I’d already had a miscarriage, the embryo was ectopic, or it was in an odd position he couldn’t see. I remember him sitting down with me and having a long conversation about ectopic pregnancy and abortion. We didn’t have much time to decide. Ectopic pregnancies are never viable he said. I remember him pulling out all the documentation, and I could tell this was a conversation he’d had before. Having to tell pregnant women that not only would their pregnancy not survive, but that if something wasn’t done quickly, they would die as well. I thought of my older daughter at home, at the time 18 months old, and my abusive partner. I thought of her having to grow up without me to protect her. He suggested that we have a second ultrasound to look for the embryo just in case. I agreed to the abortion on the condition that she couldn’t be found in the second ultrasound or that she was found to be ectopic. We agreed. I left his office and felt numb.The next day, I had the second ultrasound. Almost immediately on the screen was a circle of black with a moving figure the shape of a kidney bean in the middle. I was pregnant. She wasn’t ectopic. All was well. I called my doctor as soon as I got home, canceled the abortion and completely the pregnancy. It was hard. I lost 65 lbs from the first appointment to her birth. I left my abusive ex and bounced from relative to relative heavily pregnant with a toddler in tow. I had minimal income, no childcare, and no real options available. I left with a basket of laundry, my child, my pregnant belly, and my dog. I still didn’t have an abortion.Now if you’ve gotten this far I’d be willing to bet you think I’m pro life. All these perfect storms that most people would recognize as being a situation where a woman should be allowed to abort. I did all the right things, my birth control failed, I was raped, I was young, my life was at risk, and look at me go, I didn’t consider killing my children to be an option. Except that I did. In all three of my pregnancies abortion was considered. In all three the fathers asked me to have one. In all three I thought about it long and hard. And in all three, I found that I was in the privileged situation where it wasn’t actually necessary. Sure it wasn’t easy, but it also wasn’t impossible. I didn’t have abortions in any of my pregnancies because I didn’t feel that I had to.Here’s the thing though. I’m aggressively pro-choice. You read that right. My tubes are currently tied but if I were to become pregnant again? You can bet your ass I’d have an abortion, and I wouldn’t think twice about it. Why? My first pregnancy left me with separated abdominal muscles that have never healed. I have no strength in my upper abdominals. My second pregnancy ruptured a disk in my spine that left me with near crippling back and leg pain that still kicks up on a routine basis 13 years later. My third pregnancy left me with an 8cm by 6cm hernia in my lower abdomen. My body is literally falling apart as a result of my pregnancies. If I were to become pregnant again and attempt to carry to term, there’s a high likelihood that neither I nor the pregnancy would survive to term because of my medical conditions. And that’s not even taking into account my transition. I plan a full hysterectomy as soon as possible as part of that process just because my history with birth control isn’t the best and I don’t trust my own body to stop being an obnoxious, sabotaging, asshole.“But Brandon!”, you might say, “That’s a different situation! That’s one of those allowed instances! Surely you can’t support abortion in other cases.” And that’s where you’d be wrong. I support abortion in all cases where a pregnant woman and her doctor feel that it’s the right decision for her. I feel this way because yes, I made the decision to give birth to all three of my children when I didn’t have to. When abortion would have been considered acceptable under all but the strictest of moral arguments. But giving birth in all three of those cases was my choice, no matter how hard it was, no matter the dysphoria it caused me that wanted to rip off my own skin more often than not for nine months straight. I chose to do it anyway. Who am I to take that choice away from someone else? Who am I to tell a woman, even in the same circumstances I was in at the time, “You don’t get to make this choice for yourself because I didn’t choose that option.” Who am I to dictate someone else’s life for them? More than that, I made the choices at the time knowing my own strength, my own capabilities, my own privileges, and my own resources. These are not going to be the same for every pregnant woman. Even if the reason is as simple and seemingly superficial as “I don’t want to”, who am I to tell that woman that no, she must be forced against her will because it’s what I have chosen in the past? Who is any of us to tell that to a stranger? Particularly when we have no connection to her or her pregnancy, no intention to support her before, during, or after the birth? No intention of doing anything for the child we’re forcing her to have? And don’t tell me “Well welfare”, or “well charity”. No. You don’t get to take the easy way out any more than I allowed myself to take the easy route. If you want to tell a woman, any woman, that she cannot control her own body, then it becomes your responsibility to care for that woman and that child. You become responsible for feeding it, diapering it, comforting it at three am so that woman you forced to have it can get some sleep. You pay the bills she can’t cover because she’s unable to work while on bedrest, giving birth, or recovering. You pay for the scholarship she loses because she has to drop her college courses to have that child. You take her into your home when her conservative parents call her a whore and kick her out of their home with no where to go. You donate your own organs when hers shut down because her body can’t safely handle the pregnancy. And then you do it for every single other woman who can’t access an abortion because of your decision that she can’t make that choice for herself. Can’t do that? It’s too much? Then don’t vote for policies and lawmakers who would remove that right to choose. It’s as simple as that.EDIT: I just wanted to say WOW and thank you to all the views, upvotes, shares, and support! I was a little hesitant when I thought about posting this because it goes into a lot of painful parts of my life, but the support I’ve received has made it worth it. I had no idea my story and this answer was going to resonate with so many people, and I’m humbled by the kind words I’ve seen in the comments and shares.

When I was twelve, my dad died. I have five siblings and we ranged at the time from seven years old to eighteen. The eldest was leaving for college that week, but came back and spent the year at home at my mom's request.Before Dad had been dead a whole month, my mom started sort-of dating a sort-of homeless guy (he had been homeless and then was living in an RV on someone's property as their caretaker) my family had helped before (we volunteered for years prior to this at the local homeless shelter).A month. Our father had died of unexpected of complications from heart attacks just a month prior. We four youngest didn't know what was going on at first and she didn't let our older two siblings know. All we knew was that almost every night mom would have us get in the van, and she'd be in her pajamas and robe, and we'd drive down to his place and she'd send us to go play in the yard while she "said goodnight" and "ministered" to him.Eventually she'd come out with a shit-eating smirk, load us up in the van and drive back home.Less than two months after that she moved him into the house and started claiming they were married to everyone. (They weren't.)Why this was so incredibly selfish was because we weren't allowed to grieve anymore after that. We all had to be happy because mom had a new boyfriend-then-husband, and we all felt like we couldn't even talk about Dad anymore. Mom still talked about him but only to force our good behavior, ie: "You are all such terrible children! Your father wanted you to be raised this way and I've sacrificed so much for you...!" He wasn't even a good stepdad. He could have been worse, sure, but he'd fight with mom then storm out of the house and she'd blame it on us.Less than six months after my dad died he and my mom went on a drive and left me to change a curtain rod. I was still twelve and very small for my age, and I couldn't signNow the curtain rod. I tried, hard, but I kept falling off the back of the couch. They got back and saw that I hadn't done it, so the step-dad kept saying to me "Hah, I knew you were useless." while laughing and repeating it over and over like it was hilarious. I lost my temper and said "You're just a fat old man!" (he was 13 years older than my mom so he seemed quite elderly to me.) He, in front of my mother who had been laughing at his denigration of my handyman attempts, grabbed me, shook me hard, and screamed in my face "You stupid little b***ch!" and stormed out of the house.Mom then spanked me for trying to ruin her marriage.I just wanted my dad back, but I couldn't even say that because what if it made the step-dad feel bad?

My ex husband and I married for over 10 years.When I first met him, he was too good to be true. Loving understanding, generous, kind and promised the world to me. His well respected cops admire by everyone at his town and colleagues. He was a hero to other. He was the first guy I’ve ever been with. I fully trusted him just like my parents relationship trusting, respect and always have your back. I always knew I’ll marry a good man, since I am a happy soul.I Left my life back home to start a new fresh life to a new land and new culture with the man I married. I was excited to start a new beginning.Few weeks after moving in to his place as a married couple I saw the very first red flag of the wonderful man I’ve thought, I found a bunch of naked photos he collected from different women, He gave me a beautiful re-assurance as to why he had those photos.. it’s believable he cried.I was young inexperience 19 y/o, living thousand miles across the country away from my family and friends, Naive enough to believe in everything he says, well I supposed to trust my husband he’s a lot older than me so I figured I’m safer, If he wasn’t a cop he would be a great life speaker. He has the skills to convince anyone to believed everything he said.Within the same year I got pregnant with a beautiful girl she’s a blessing to me. His cheating became evident. Calling names became his favorite word. He is a good player and a Dangerous one I felt bad for the women who fell into his lies. He used them to feed his ego.A part of his strategy is to make sure i know nothing about the world I’m living in, staying dumb and clueless is what he likes, he acts like Mr. Google and everyone is below him.He made sure that my name is no longer what my parents gave me, he granted me a new nick name(cunt, whore, dumb,ugly and more) I didn’t like it but he sure gets the joy out of it.From being happy and positive young person I am, I become isolated, sad and Angry. His negative words start to have power over me.He knows how to laugh…laugh at me, he has the needs to remind constantly that I should be well aware of my confidence should be diminish and not meant to flourish. His ego is huge when my confidence is low.Over time I developed anxiety due to his abusive behavior. Regular conversation become frightful. You never know what insult I’m a getting.One sunny day, he took me shopping I got too excited, yes, I have no access to our bank so I have to constantly ask money from him for my personal expense.I picked the cutest outfit, i’d love to think I have a good sense of style, but the excitement replace with embarrassment when he found out my cloths cost him a little over $60, he started belittling me in public, I put the cloths back, too embarrassed to continue shopping, I ran towards the car to hide my self from people staring at us. They felt bad, I felt worst, But those dress though..such a cute outfit that could add a little spice to my confident that’s slowly fading away.I started to make new friends and let me tell you how awesome that felt, I finally found someone to hang out with, well Ofcourse Mr. perfect man cannot handle the positive relationship around me so he has to Interfere, either ruin it or hook up with friends. i lost a lot of friends but few stick up for me and become a family.Years goes by my ex behavior become eradic, abusive, manipulative, he’s extreme pathological liar, and mentally ill. How did I manage to stay positive it was tough but I always knew I am better and stronger that his words.One day he told me to pack our belongings and we’re moving to different states, I don’t want to, I created a family( friends) to where I was and my daughter made a great friendship, but do I have a choice?We moved to another state no friends starting all over again not knowing he planned carefully to divorce me far from my good friends who consoled me. My suffering gives him satisfaction.Slowly regaining independency made him miserable, I fought to go back to school and learned how to drive (thanks to YouTube, no kidding). The more he isolate me the more I tried to become outgoing, I long for connection.It was a bitter sweet mistakes bringing me to the desert I met great new friends, I kept going against his will. I wasn’t scared anymore, I learned to endure his abusive behavior. He was furious to see how quickly I adjusted.He’s on the job to ruin my relationship to any of my friends. He reminds me of an alligator sitting quietly waiting/observing for its prey, All the lies he put out there to destroy my inner peace, this time he will not succeed. I figured out to make sure he know nothing about my new friends.I started working out,it was my to way to de-stress, yoga has been my favorite and outdoor Camping gave me an inner peace, I slowly gained all my confidence back, I spend less of my time or possibly no time at all with him. I made myself busy to help me get rid of the negative thoughts, I don’t want to entertain self pity. I deleted all sorts of social media to avoid comparing my self to other’s happiness and unrealistic lifestyles I couldn’t afford, rather, focus working on my own self progress.One day after I got out of school I went straight to work a gentle man came asking for my name and serve me the divorce paper,I felt a little embarrassed everyone at work knows my business.I had to hire a lawyer when Mr.Respected ex started to create lies and accusations to make sure the judge will favor towards him, his manipulative skills always benefit him, I wish I can speak like him. I don’t see the needs to speak poorly against him infront of the judge, all I wanted is a smooth process stating on the paper I’m no longer connected to him and Grant me my daughter’s custody, but he is born nasty, no compassion. I truly believed he was born heartless.Eventually, he gave up because guess what this little naive girl will never surrender my rights to my beautiful daughter!, even if it means I have to sleep 2 hrs a day to support my expensive lawyer.I work soo hard to make sure my daughter feel safe and do my best to provide all her needs, Its not an easy transition but I kept going, depression has no chance on me. I stayed strong and focus. I cried at times not because I’m depressed but it made me feel better afterwards.Finally, he came into terms, we both signed the divorce paper… I ran downstairs carried the biggest smile on my face and did my happy dance outside the court ( i created my own happy dance) it was the most happiest day of my life. I called my family about the awesome news.I was soo excited, I ran towards the homeless guy sitting on the bench and told him how happy I was, I don’t know him I just needed a friend and he’s kind enough to Listen to my happy ending. It was a beautiful emotional day for me. I used to just wish for this day to come and here I am In front of the court signing my way back to my freedom and peace.Words are powerful, before I left my old town, I told few of my friends marked my word I will be divorce before I turned 30 and if it won’t happen please come find me and slap me in the face, I said jokingly and here I am divorce before 30.I walk away without asking a penny from this man, I could use alimony but I just want peace and my daughter. I let him keep all his money.Hours after signing all the documents he called to say“ I still love you and our family and how sad I am to make a decisions because you have changed. I miss the old you, the way we used to be”.my daughter was sitting next to him so I just had to hold my tongue but I really wanted to tell him to “fuck Off” I wanted to puke with annoyance.I’ve never been soo excited to sign a paper like that in my life.. I could sign that paper all day long, every signatures is a sign of freedom and I made sure to carry extra pen with me Im afraid I will run out of ink.Tears of joy… joy that he will no longer have the power to hurt, belittle and abuse me. The marriage tittle gave him the right to destroy me but it’s over.I will do my best to Live happy and mentally healthy. We are not meant to live sad nor scared everyday, life is not supposed to be that way.Marriage should be a relationship where you feel safe, strong , accepted, and love.I am working progress to be the person I used to be and I wanted to be.I become wise, strong and unapologetic.He brings out the lion out of the cat in me..Life experienced truly mold me of who I am today.Got my own flat at the nicest safe neighborhood. my daughter goes to one of the best school in the states with her good friends, found a great job and happy with my freedom, Still working to finish my degree. Im traveling more often, It is safe to say I am strong attracted women who been through soo much but no one can break me.I never stop reminding my 10 year old daughter one day she’ll step into the real world and I’ll never want her to experience what I went through but a strong lesson to remind her about the values of self love and understanding what healthy relationships looks like.I want her to be happy,confident and strong educated women.Mr nightmare ex is heading to his 4th marriage this year. I wish I could tell him to re-evaluate himself before destroying around another soul. I felt bad for that young women, she doesn’t know what’s coming.

I was a bit violent here, so I’ll not reveal my identity.But, some background first, I’m a buff male over 2 meters tall and back then I used to weight more than 100 kilograms. My weight is not composed of fat, it’s composed of muscle and generally I’m not someone you want to see yourself in a fight with, especially if you’re skinny/unarmed/not ready for a fight generally.I was with my mother in Paris, visiting her sister, or my aunt. We’re Irish and she lives there, because she’s married there.Unfortunately, we arrived far too early and my mother’s sister was not present just yet, we decided to eat in some Paris restaurant and I told my mother to go inside, order me whatever she orders for herself and I’ll be back, after I finish smoking my cigar.The waiter, a skinny dark-haired 19 year old boy refused to serve my Mom because she wanted to order in English, he refused service and when I entered the restaurant after my cigar, I heard him hurling insults at her, calling her a ‘Whore’, ‘English bitch’ and other insults. Unknown to him, and to everyone there, I am a certified French-English translator and I told him in English to serve the lady because she’s clearly not being impolite.He hurled insults at me too, calling me a ‘big fat ugly American’ (first time someone calls me an American). In that moment I grabbed him by his shirt and told him in French ‘I speak French too, maggot’. In that exact moment, he became pale and started sweating uncontrollably, he was not prepared for a fight and was afraid I could rip him apart, I simply told him in French ‘Call someone less of a bitch than you, and that can actually serve food’.It was my first time in Paris, and I would have never believed that Parisians would be so rude to foreigners. In other towns, the French were not only polite, but also helpful, but Parisiens (pardon my generalization) made me hate the city of Paris, and I hope I never visit that place again.

One day many years ago, I was walking home from high school, when I saw a frail, elderly woman carrying heavy bags of groceries.She was humpbacked and looked exhausted.I ran to help her, and carried the groceries to her house.As I walked up the steps to the front door, I became aware of the dilapidated condition of the house.The front steps were not safe to walk on!The dear woman invited me inside for tea.The living room was very clean, but the carpet and furniture were old and threadbare.Miss Muriel Carter had been subsisting in this ramshackled place for many years.As I was drinking my tea, she excused herself to “warm up the place”.Donning an apron, Miss Carter opened the door to the basement, and proceeded to make her way down a steep flight of stairs.When I asked if I could help her, she allowed me to follow her.The house was heated with a coal furnace.This required frequent trips downstairs to empty out the ashes and add a fresh supply of coal.My heart was aching for this poor woman as I opened the door to the furnace and scooped out the ashes and soot into a metal bin.After filling a scuttle with coal, I refuelled the furnace and let Miss Carter finish the task.Once we were back in the living room, I discreetly asked the elderly woman about her life.Miss Carter shared her incredible life story.Her parents had been wealthy, and she had a privileged childhood.When Muriel Carter was eighteen, she met the man of her dreams.After a whirlwind courtship, her beau asked her to marry him.This was the happiest time of Miss Carter's life!Then tragedy struck.Muriel Carter's fiancé was killed in an accident.Consumed with grief, she became a recluse at her parents’ house.Soon after, misfortune struck again when her father died.However, the biggest shock was still to come.When Miss Carter and her mother began to plan Mr. Carter's funeral, they made a horrifying discovery.He had gambled away his fortune!They were left owing money.Muriel Carter had to get a job.She mustered her courage and went to work as a sales clerk in a department store.Miss Carter supported her mother for many years.She told me that she actually enjoyed getting out of the apartment and working with people.One day Muriel came home and found her mother lying on the floor.She had been sick and had succumbed to pneumonia.So now Muriel, an only child, was alone.The aging spinster decided to rent a house and take in boarders to make ends meet.We were sitting in the boarding house Muriel had lived in for many years.Some of the boarders had been young women entering the work force for the first time.Most of them treated her well and were good company.Some male boarders had been violent.One had physically attacked her, giving her a black eye and bruising her arms.I couldn't bear to hear any more.I was going to help Miss Carter.As soon as I got home I related everything to my mother and grandmother.The following day, as soon as school was out, I went to City Hall.I was only seventeen years old.I headed for the city's housing department, where I was given a form to fill out.There was a long waiting list for senior's housing.I remembered that one of my uncles knew a city official, so I went to see the commissioner of public works.His receptionist told him that a “school girl” wanted to talk to him.To my utter amazement I found myself sitting across from the commissioner!After mentioning my uncle (whom the commissioner acknowledged), I told him everything, making it very clear that this frail elderly woman was in danger.She could fall down the basement stairs, or her attacker could come back.Apparently I was convincing.The commissioner agreed to meet me outside of Miss Carter's house the following day.As soon as he saw the rickety front stairs he became concerned.The three of us had a cup of tea in the old woman's living room.The commissioner went down to the basement.When he came back into the living room, he told Miss Carter that he couldn't make any promises, but he would see what he could do to get her out of there.He wrote down my phone number and went back to work.The following week when I got home from school, my grandmother told me that the commissioner wanted me to call his office.Muriel had a new place to live!My mother and I packed up her place and my uncles moved her into her freshly painted senior's apartment!My family bought her a TV and new curtains and slipcovers for her furniture.We had a party to celebrate her new home!Muriel settled into her cozy and safe abode.She became a dearly loved member of my family.Miss Muriel Carter never spent another Christmas alone.Rest in peace, beautiful Muriel.

Wow! This will be very much vary with the circumstances of the adoption. For example, is it a domestic adoption or a foreign adoption? What is the age of the child? What are the ages of the parents? Do the parents have other children? If so, are they also adopted or their genetically-related children? Have the parents participated in any classes to educate those who are new to adoption or foster care?In our case my son was four years old when we adopted him from Colombia, which is where my parents and I were born. My wife had taken classes for those interested in adopting or fostering children at a local university, which was sponsored by the Dave Thomas Institute –yes, that Dave Thomas, of Wendy’s Restaurants fame and an adoptee himself. So, I think we were perhaps better informed than many.From the time we met him -at the federal family welfare organization, Bienestar Familiar, until we were able to take him with us while the adoption process made its way through the bureaucracy was just a few hours. We then spent about 7 days with him in Medellin, taking him to doctors appointments to get his required shots, buying him some new clothes, and sightseeing, and, well, generally just having lots of fun hanging out. We then had to fly to Bogotá over the US Embassy is located to complete the paperwork to bring him to the US.Note: we did a parent-initiated adoption, which we highly recommend if you are organized and which, I believe, to this date is recommended by most nations. (We were personally not keen on orphanages or foreign adoption agencies. We still don’t get where all the money folks pay them actually goes. Parent initiated adoptions are pretty much handled by the two nations family welfare infrastructures. Also, hard as it may be to believe by some, we never even had to bribe… I mean, “give gifts”, to anyone, which appears to be the norm in many foreign adoptions.Once we had received his paperwork - before we even opened it up- we knew whomever was in there was going to be our child. With Bienestar Familiar as our intermediary, we started sending pictures of his new home and family, crayons, construction paper, etc. to him. Imagine our room in surprise when I’m picking him up we find they had put together a lovely scrapbook with pictures of his foster family, telling us all about Fabi and those he had grown up with the previous few years. Very cool!My parents flew down to Colombia with us so he had plenty of native Spanish speakers around him as well as my wife and daughter who had taken Spanish immersion classes to be ready for him.Our son was always pretty happy and outgoing from the time we met him. It very much helped, we are sure, that his big sister (6 at the time) adored him. Although he was only four years old, he was remarkably confident and self-sufficient. I believe this is partially cultural and also a consequence of the support and training they provide foster parents there. I understand it is different when you adopt from an adoption agency/home but I lack the experience and knowledge to articulate in what manner it is different.I will close with one of my favorite anecdotes of our first couple of days. I wanted to make sure he understood that while he may have been spanked in Colombia that was not our approach to raising our children. (We believed in the emotional torture of timeouts. ;-)He seemed to understand the concept and, well, just seemed to shrug it off. NOT in a rude, “whatever“ manner, mind you. Just sort of… not impressed by the idea that he wasn’t going to get spanked. (Looking back, our wise boy may very well have been thinking –ala Bart Simpson- “you have shown your hand you silly parental unit!” :-)All was good and he was pretty well-behaved until we had to give them a time out on day three. I walked him away from where he was misbehaving to the sitting area of our hotel room. I said to him , “siéntate”. (This is the informal form of “sit down”.)Well, what do you think our little “Bart” does? He looks up at me and corrects me. He says, “¡No, siéntese!”, which is the formal form of “sit down”.Yes, in the process of my attempting to discipline him he decides to give me a lesson in proper Spanish. LOLThe next day I learned from our attorney that in the region from which we were adopting him children are first taught the formal forms of address and learn informal ones later. This was the opposite of my upbringing. The city of Barranquilla, from where my parents and I emigrated, is very laid-back. In fact, people there generally use the informal forms of address.TL;DR It depends. But it is almost universally a great experience.

My first child was born fairly uneventfully even though the hospital was a long drive away and after the doctor said we barely made it in time. The second had to be induced, they said my amniotic fluid was leaking. When they broke my water he climbed up. I mean up under my ribcage! My stomach was flat! I had to sit up and arch my back to breathe. As my labor progressed he continued to fight his way up. With every contaction I pushed him down and he climbed back up. The nurse and doctor acted like this was my fault. The nurse started screaming and yelling at me even though I was being calm and quiet. She said I thought you wanted this baby and he's going to die. She did this over and over. I turned to the nice nurse that had been with me before this one got there. I asked is he ok and she nodded yes. That's when I told the crazy one she had to leave. That made the doctor furious! He stomped away saying now you have sent the best nurse away. She may have been the head nurse but certainly not the best! When the doctor stomped off my son was crowning, my husband ran to the foot of the bed. The doctor came back just in time to catch him. We left the hospital hours after that birth. I have never seen my husband so mad. He wanted to have a word with that doctor but he couldn't be found.We decided to have our next child at another hospital. The story was the complete opposite but hilarious. I was up in the middle of the night alone with my hyperactive toddler in the living room. He was wreaking the place but my stomach was really hurting so I just watched mostly. I had finally got him down to sleep and then my water broke. This had never happened before, they had to break my water with the others. I woke my husband after I showered, changed and began cleaning up. He ended up standing in the doorway yelling we have to go! Meantime I am still sitting during contractions and cleaning in between. On the way I tell him I have to throw,up he pulls over to a closed store but I refuse to throw up in someones parking lot. We got to the emergency room and left our toddler and almost fourteen year old in the car just until my husband could leave me. While we were doing paperwork I excused myself to go to the restroom. While I was there a contraction hit that was so strong I literally couldn't move and it didn't pass. My husband had decided he should check on me. As he came in a security gaurd showed up to find out why he was going into the ladies room. Hubby asked if I was ok, all I could manage was a weak noooo while I was still frozen there. I finally managed to lean forward and unlock the door as I fell. At this point everyone but me is yelling for anything with wheels to get me to delivery. We got to delivery and it was like there was a party in there. There must have been fifteen nurses in there. They said this was the most exciting thing going on that night. My son was born about 10 minutes later. That's when we were able to get the other kids out of the car. I noticed that the white part of my baby's eyes were blood red. My doctor said that he had pushed so hard to get out that he had ruptured blood vessels in his eyes. Luckily this was a minor condition that cleared on it's own. I am still thankful for everyone who was so nice and took such good care of us that night.I learned somethings that night. First, in labor you are not thinking clearly and may not have as much time as you think you do. Second, never go to the bathroom unattended when you are in labor. I am just glad they are all healthy and I don't have to tell my son he was born in the bathroom.

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