Oma suggested upon seeing Layla’s CoC (certificate of citizenship) that all of Layla’s documents i.e. birth certificate, adoption decree, social security card, all have the same name on them. She said it would make it easier for her. Who am I not to listen to a government worker on the area of Layla’s future dealings with other government or state agencies.
I looked at the paperwork which came with Layla’s CoC, found the form I needed to fill out, and the cost to get a replacement CoC. I am very glad that President George H.W. Bush created a law in which CoCs were automatically generated upon your child touching US soil. A citizen simply because your parent is a citizen. Before families would have to purchase a CoC, which I think many didn’t because of the cost.
But wouldn’t it be nice if when politicians and lawmakers came up with new laws, they would bring in a few citizens who the law would directly affect and asked them what they think about the law. Imagine if they had invited a few parents, who created their families through adoption, and asked them what they thought. I bet all the parents would have said, “Hey, can we have a line where we can write our children’s new names, if we want to change them?” But that would be too much like common sense and bureaucracy and common sense aren’t friends, not even frienemies.
Sorry I digress, I downloaded the form and tried to fill it out but there were questions I didn’t remember the answer to or wasn’t sure how to answer. I posted on my yahoo group and for the first time in a long time, there were few answers to my questions. What no one got a new/replacement CoC? Guess not. I finally got answers from a board I posted to out of desperation. I finished filling out the form and moved on to step two.
Who knew getting a one-year-old to take a picture could be so difficult? But I preserved and in the end, I got the two passport size photos.
CoC form filled out - - check
Copy of adoption decree showing name change - - check
Two passport photos with Layla’s name on the back - - check
Original CoC - - check
Check made out for a gazillion dollars - - check (uh, why doesn’t our government have any money? Because this one sheet of paper is mega-expensive.)
I took my precious envelope to the mailroom to be weighed and learn the exact postage needed on it. I put the stamps on it, but before I put the envelope in the mail I once asked the mailroom woman the postage amount and she confirmed what I had on my envelope. Perfect. Now if I could get the new CoC back in a timely manner, then I could get Layla’s social security card and she’d have a number to put on my taxes.
Two days later, I come home to find my envelope returned to me for lack of postage. Are you serious?! The mailroom chick did me wrong. I immediately put the application and its accompanying documents in a new envelope, took it to the post office, I wasn’t taking any chances, and sent it off again.
I waited with bated breath to make sure nothing came back and nothing did. Yippee!!! Twelve days later, an envelope from INS awaited me. Wow, they move fast, I thought as I opened the envelope only to discover my application, its accompanying documents, and my check were inside with another envelope and a letter.
One of my questions about the application was where to sign. One line was to be signed by the applicant. The second line was to be signed by the preparer, who wasn’t the applicant. One person said she signed as if she were the applicant and put in parenthesis that she was mom. The only other person to answer the question said she signed as the preparer, then warned me that the ultimate answer of where to sign fell to whatever government worker opened the envelope and where they preferred it to be signed.
My worker didn’t like where I signed so he or she sent it back saying to sign where the applicant is suppose to sign. I put my John Hancock where he or she wanted, put it in the nicely supplied envelope and back to the post office I went. (Why couldn’t there be a simple line that reads applicant signature or if applicant is under the age of 18 signature of parent/legal guardian? Oh, that’s right. That sounds like common sense.)
Ten days letter another envelope from INS, yes! Layla’s CoC was here. Nope it wasn’t that, thankfully it wasn’t my application back either. It was simply a receipt saying INS had received my application and it was being processed. The receipt did state that while I could go on-line to check the status of my application the status wouldn’t change until the CoC had been mailed out. Uh, okay. So I can order a pizza on-line from Domino’s and watch the progress of my pizza every step of the way, i.e., Bob is making your pizza; Sarah is placing it in the oven; but the government that governs over 300 hundred million people can’t get a similar system so I can estimate when I’ll get an important government document. Gotcha.
I threw myself head first into Christmas activities and one day, guess what was waiting for me when I came home. You guessed it. Finally, Layla’s CoC, except it wasn’t that. It was an official letter saying my application was going to be denied and if it was they were going to keep my money and I would have to start the process all over again.
What was the problem that was going to bring my request for a new CoC to a grinding halt? INS informed me that they suspected Layla’s adoption decree had been forged. Her first and last names were typed on the document, but her middle names were hand written. I was speechless. They were hand written because the form the courthouse had on-line didn’t give me enough room to type her middle names. Strangely enough right next to my neat print was the judge’s circled initials which I know in most circles means he sees, acknowledges, and approves of what’s on the line, but in the world of INS that wasn’t good enough. I mean, who was the judge to okay this?
So in a very specific letter (shocking, I know), INS informed me they needed a certified court document stating what Layla’s full name was and that if the document wasn’t on their desk by January 6, my application would be rejected. Days before the world took off for Christmas vacations, I get this letter. I immediately called the courthouse and the nice woman who answered the phone said, “This is why the judge shouldn’t allow names to be hand written.” I guess INS had sent more than just me over the years back to the courthouse over this issue.
I filled out new adoption paperwork so I could send an amended decree to INS. After everything I had been through, there was no way I was going to chance my new paperwork getting caught up in Christmas cards and letters so I drove it to the courthouse to myself. The woman working the desk couldn’t guarantee me that I would get the documents signed before Christmas. Uh, did she not hear about my January 6 deadline? Not it had to be post-marked by January 6, but it had to be on the Mid-West INS worker’s desk on the 6th.
The woman told me she would do her best and I asked her if I could call in few days to see what progress had been made and she said okay. I also requested and added to the letter that explained my plight that I be called when the documents were signed and I would drive back and pick them up.
During our torrential downpour also known as the week of Christmas, I was slowly morphing into a stalker to get a certain courthouse employee on the line or to return my phone calls to answer my question: was my paperwork signed. Finally I got her on the phone and she told me, the papers had been signed and mailed. Roll of eyes and a sigh. I thanked her and prayed it would get to my house safely.
God answered my prayer and the next day, the very next day, there were our decrees. I made the executive decision to not mail it until the day after Christmas. I couldn’t afford for it to get lost in the masses of Christmas mail. After all the issues I had, I considered sending it Fed Ex, but my mom told me I could trust the post office. Weighed, stamped, and back into the mailbox and hopefully this time INS would be satisfied.
One week past and nothing, a second week and nothing. Score, they must be satisfied! Third week, an INS envelope awaited me on the table. Oh no! But my oh no turned into oh yes, finally the real deal Holyfield was in my hands. Layla’s CoC.
My mom looked at it and said, “Why does it look like she has no neck? And her shirt looks like its too small in the picture. Was that the best picture you could get?”
Oh no she didn’t. “It took an hour to take that picture because for some unknown reason babies can’t have their eyes closed or have tears on their face or be crying.” I tried asking, pleading, bribing. I offered her a soda, a candy bar, cookies, and none of it worked.
She wouldn’t stand on the chair to take the picture. Or when she did the moment I removed my hand from her she started to bawl while slinking down in the chair. I allowed her and her sister to do a big no no and let them push CVS owned cars around so she’d be willing to take the picture. It didn’t work. I was late picking up her brother from swimming lessons. So while her Oma saw what was wrong with the picture, I only saw the miracle that the picture actually existed. It was finally an orange, I found buried in my purse that worked.
With the CoC in hand, I marched down to the social security office. It was possible, my baby could actually have a social security number in time for me to file my taxes. After a nearly three hour wait, I sat down with the government employee only to be informed there was a possibility I would have to return because Layla’s CoC was too new. Too new? Too new?!?! Are you serious?
“I’m sorry?” If I had to come back to this office, it was going to be on and hoppin’.
“It might not be in the system because it was so recently issued.”
How this country’s government functions is truly an act of God.
“But I’ll try it and see,” the worker said.
As he finished inputting all the information, he informed me it was in the system and the application was complete though he couldn’t put her middle names on her card. Which is odd because her name is just as long as Rowan’s who got her complete name on her card. But whatever. I wasn’t going to fight it. One initial will work for me. Who knows maybe like me Layla will never use her middle names and will only hear them when I say her full name.
We’ll see if the card actually appears in ten days. I should have asked if that was business days or regular days.
And that’s the saga of a journey that sounded and still sounds so simple.
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