Responding to another (potential) setback

I awoke this morning to discover the terror and disaster that has befallen Japan. My heart goes out to them, so it makes my little trauma sound inconsequential now.
Yesterday, I discovered that Ethiopia will be cutting the adoptions they process by as much as 90%. My contact at IFS has informed me that the "Ethiopia ruling is not official yet and no one is sure how to interpret it"  and that "there are lots of rumors running around right now but nothing definite as to what or even if changes might take place in Ethiopia." However, the Department of State is confirming the change. I understand the reasoning behind this shift, but that doesn't make me any less devastated. I had previously discussed our hope and devastation cycle and now (erroneously, yes) believe that this change is related to the sense of hope and longing I had (cautiously) allowed myself to experience recently. Foolish me.
So, the changes to the adoption process in Ethiopia has thrust us into a new stage of limbo. I have a difficult time coping with limbo. I have a strong internal locus of control and it agitates me when I feel like I am helpless to change a situation. Currently, our family's fate is in so many other people's hands..... our home study agency, our adoption agency, the US government, the Ethiopian government. It feels like I have little power of my own or little guidance or understanding of the direction my life (or my family's life) is destined to take. And no one wants to float aimlessly in the ocean without a sail, motor, or rudder.
Yet, Craig and I remain determined. I was understandably distressed yesterday when discovering this news and was allowed a two hour lunch/brainstorming/venting session with two lovely ladies from work. I left with more thoughts on my mind, but my steadfast resolve that has dominated my being for the past 10 years has remained strongly intact. I returned home and researched other countries, only to find myself feeling lost, confused, and frustrated. We had chosen Ethiopia because it was the best fit for us and I can't help but to feel that we have started back at the beginning. If this were Monopoly, we're not even on Go. No where near collecting $200. We're fighting over who gets to be the hat and who gets to be the thimble.
When imparting this information to Craig initially, he first responded with defeat, but after taking a few moments to himself, he asked, "Okay... what next?" That's my boy. He and I have mastered the art of getting back up on the horse. (I'm very metaphorical today. Somehow, I managed to imply that we're riding a horse in a boat while playing Monopoly)
We contacted our home study agency about the possibility of a domestic adoption. However, a domestic adoption comes with a $35k price tag and up to a 30% failure rate (meaning, baby could be in our home for 2 weeks and mom could change her mind, causing us to lose baby and about $10k+). I also contacted IFS about our options and was informed that we may qualify for a special needs adoption in China, which would take about nine months. I find that my most promising news today and will try my best not to become overly obsessed with it. However, a shift from Ethiopia (a non-Hague country) to China (a Hague country) involves a significant revision to our home study, which is taking twice as long as expected without this little hiccup.
I'm going to take some time to myself to try and process all of this information. It has undoubtedly thrown me for a loop and I've wanted to shut down several times. But I am determined to make this work and I refuse to let anything stand in my way.
On a side note, tomorrow will mark the 6th month anniversary of my mother's death and usually anniversaries are things to be celebrated. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to respond to this. I would really like to speak with her about all this stuff, so she can tell me that it will all work out. I can remember the day I tried to teach her how to say, "Okie Dokie." But she kept saying, "Okie okie" because she couldn't grasp the pronunciation. So, in this situation, I'm sure she'd tell me (in her Lao accent), "Don't worry. Its okie okie."