It's My Moms'

This afternoon in class, someone leaned over to me and said, "You have amazing handwriting." It was an unexpectedly kind comment and without even missing a beat I replied, "Oh thanks, it's my moms'."

Then I looked down at my paper and realized that Charlie will never be able to look at his handwriting and automatically know where it came from. He will never be able to look at any part of himself and know, without a doubt, that it came from his first mom, or from any other biological family member for that matter.

An incredible wave of sadness washed over me.

Of course I know that I am his mom...and I will certainly pass my beliefs, habits, sayings, etc. down to him through nurture but there will be another part of him that will come from nature alone and we will never know the origins of that. What a loss.

I don't talk about {the absence of} his birth mother very much because honestly, it's a little too much for me to tackle sometimes. I think it's one aspect of our story that I'm going to have to digest in small pieces, as we go. I guess my realization today was one of those small pieces.

I'm okay really. The sadness didn't linger, it was more of an observation (a dawning really,) of some of the missing pieces and questions that will be an inevitable part of our future as Charlie grows. It does make me sad but because of my own nature, I go back to the fundamental belief that it is what it is and there must some reason for that, even if I can't completely understand from where I currently stand.

365 Days Later, Part Two

So where was I on this day in history, the day our child was born? To be honest, I wasn't having a very good day. In fact, I was pretty much hitting the rock bottom of our wait. Those of you who were there probably remember that April was a hard month for me last year, right up until the very end. In early April, I discussed my exasperation in this post. Then there was the "close call" we had with the premature baby girl that pretty much sent me on a downward spiral.

If only someone could have told me our time was literally only days away...I wouldn't have wasted so much energy being upset.

In fact, I had gone to the doctor on April 28, to get our paperwork updated and signed yet again, thinking I was going to have to go through the process of updating our home study again. The conversation with the doctor had been very rough, I was struggling. I remember telling her how sad I was and feeling that she sort of wrote me off. I actually cried that day, all the way home on the 45 minute drive. I was just so exhausted and so depleted. I remember thinking that I wasn't sure we were supposed to keep going...feeling that maybe we should just throw in the towel.

If only someone could have told me our time was literally only days away...I wouldn't have wasted so much energy being upset.

Thinking about that now, I am amazed. To think that I sobbed and felt sorry for myself all the way home, as there was a woman only an hour away, giving birth to a baby and going through what must have been a tremendous amount of both physical and emotional pain. Well...I just wish I could have known. Not only do I wish I could have been there on the first day of our son's life but I also wish I could have known her. To maybe, on some small level, have been able to give her some sort of comfort and peace that her son would be loved. Yes, I wish I could have been there and I wish I could have known.

Still, I believe that Charlie's story is what it is for a reason. I am so very grateful for our son and for his birth mother. The day of his birth...the day that was the beginning of the greatest experience of our whole lives will forever be a day that is close to my heart, and not just because it's our son's birthday.

Joy and Sorrow

Wow, what a week it's been in blogland! This adoption stuff can be one heck of a crazy roller coaster at times. Tonight I'm feeling a little melancholy. I've been absolutely elated for E, with the wonderful news of her recent match, and that great news came on the heels of good news for RB too.

But then, as is always a risk with this journey, RB got the news we all dread: a failed match. And worse yet, this is the second time they have had to go through this turmoil. Somehow that just doesn't seem fair to me. I just feel so heavy and sad for her, and I can't even imagine the magnitude of her pain.

Then there's Kel, who is waiting for news right now, and who waits so patiently in general. She has had a rather tumultuous few weeks with lots of adoption drama going on, and my heart goes out to her. Ashley also wrote a beautiful post about the journey she has been through this past year, going from thinking she was going to lose her son to the realization that he was going to be placed with them after all. What a beautiful story and heartwarming post!

Then there are also recent posts from Sarah and Jessie, both of whom are dealing with the loss of their mothers, amongst many other challenges. Both of these women seem incredibly strong to me, and they remind me that every day is special, and that bitching about the insignificant stuff in life is truly a waste of time and energy.

I guess tonight I'm just feeling unsettled. There has been tremendous joy and sorrow all in this one week, and it's left me feeling really emotional. I'm definitely counting my blessings, and saying a lot of prayers (both of thanks, and for healing) for all of you out there. Honestly when I started blogging, it was for me. Well...for me, and for my family so they could follow our journey. Now it's so much more than that. I still tell our story, and I blog for Charlie now too...but I LOVE the connections that have happened here. I feel as though I know so many of you on a truly personal level, and that is pretty cool considering the distances that lie between us.

Clouds

Lately there have been some heavier topics on my mind...clouds entering my perpetual state of happiness if you will. I've been thinking a lot about Charlie's story, and how we will frame it (especially the sad parts) for him so that it's not too painful. Obviously the truth will always be at the center of everything we tell him, but I so want to protect him from the negatives...and mostly from the negative perceptions of people who don't know us.

I read an article a while back about positive adoption language. It was written by an adoptive mom who meant well, but some of the comments that were left for her were harsh. Quite frankly, they were hard to read, but they also really got me thinking. I can totally see some of the points made in the responses. I can understand how telling a child his first mother "made an adoption plan" for him because she loved him would leave him with some confusion about love. Young children take everything literally, so I get what some of these adoptees were trying to say. Although, I don't necessarily agree that to frame a child's story in a positive light is to sugar coat it in a way that is inappropriate. After reading some of these comments, I am left feeling sad, and wondering, "What is the right thing to say?" As Charlie's mommy, how do I explain it properly?

The sad fact is that pain and loss are central to every adoption story, but is it wrong for us adoptive parents to want to handle our children gently where their adoption stories are concerned? The reailty of some of the comments is that they don't consider the alternative...and they certainly don't offer a "better" solution to the language/terminology/viewpoint they are naysaying. The point is, this just has me thinking a lot about what we will tell him when he's old enough to understand. I really don't know the answer to that. Right now we tell him parts of his story all the time, and I talk to him about adoption almost every day...but right now I'm just talking, practicing for the future I guess. Right now it doesn't matter the way it will someday, when he can understand.

Then there is the age-old balancing act of being a mom with the rest of life. School starts again soon and I'm nervous. Nervous about being away from my baby for two [very] long days every week. I realize it could be worse, but I'm not going to see him at all two days a week and I'm really not sure I'm OK with that fact. I'm also nervous about being able to study and continue to be the kind of student I've been for the last several years. I would love it if I could simply be with him for this first year, but in the long run that isn't really what I want either. The thought of putting school on hold, even for a year, gives me an entirely different kind of stomach ache. And all this begs the question, "In fulfilling my dream of motherhood, have I lost myself?" The answer to that question is inevitably yes...or at least I have lost some former parts of myself.

But is that bad? Is it not appropriate that some of the old me should be cast away as I make room for a new little person? I have always been a very involved, very active person with a lot of hobbies and interests. People talk about being bored, but I rarely have times when I can't find something to do that interests me. And now...well, I'm finding that things like gardening, and writing in my paper journals, and keeping up with my other blog, and taking non-baby photographs...they are falling by the wayside. And yet, at the end of the day I feel satisfied that my time that day was well spent. I will never reach a point where I look at my child and wonder if I spent enough time with him, or held him enough, because the answer to that will always be yes. To me, that is as it should be, but what about having a sense of self outside of being a mom? Certainly there is value added to the child by having a mom who is self-interested and self-involved to an extent. I think the key here (as with most things in life) is balance...but how do you strike a healthy balance, and how do you know that it is healthy, as opposed to having the scale tipped too much in one direction or the other?

Then there are my thoughts about racism and how to handle that as Charlie gets older. We are fortunate in that we are in a very diverse area where there are many "different" families and resources available to us, but there are still some hard truths here that we must all learn to face as our family grows. I'm in no way ready to tackle this topic in a manner that will give it fair play on my blog, but I do think about it a fair amount, and somewhere in there, I'm trying to make it all make sense. One thing that having Charlie has taught me in a short time is that being "different" brings the reality of racism in our society to the surface. I've been trying to find some good books on the topic so any suggestions would be appreciated. These thoughts leave me with the question, "Is my love enough to protect him?" To some degree I think it is, but in time, I will also have to teach him how to handle this particular evil of our world with a sense of pride, self confidence, and humor. That amongst all the other "normal" growing up lessons and difficulties. Wow, now that is a tall order if ever there was one!

All of the above having been said...or typed...there is still such tremendous joy that floods my heart every time I look into the eyes of my sweet little boy. It is such a gift to be "the one" for him. To be able to make him smile and giggle like no other, and to be the one who can comfort him when he's upset. To be "Mommy," well...there is nothing sweeter or more rewarding!

Maybe Next Time...

Well, we have had a rather tumultuous 24 hours or so. Last night as I was sitting in math class, I got a call...you guys know the call. Only, it wasn't quite the call. It was from the birth parent counselor at our agency. She told me about a baby girl who was born this past weekend. She was 7-10 weeks premature, but "otherwise healthy." She was/is in the N-ICU at the hospital about seven miles from our house. For a moment I thought it was the call. Then we were told the birth parents would be looking at pofiles last night. We had very limited information upon which to base a quick decision about whether or not to be shown. Of course we wanted to be shown, and we were. By the time I managed to sit through the rest of class (in a complete daze) and get home, there was an email update from our CW:

"...for those of you who have already agreed to have your letter and album shown to the birth mother of the premature baby girl--J. will be meeting with her tomorrow morning at which time she and her boyfriend will be looking at letters and albums. IF SHE CHOOSES TO MEET YOU, I WILL BE CALLING YOU AT AROUND 11 AM TOMORROW MORNING. YOU WILL HAVE TO BE AT THE AGENCY BY NOON TO MEET WITH THEM." J. and I know that this is ridiculously fast-crazy, but it's the best we can do in this situation. So stay tuned, and I'll be in touch."

So it was with that information that we went to bed last night. We didn't talk about it much, I don't think either one of us really knew what to say or exactly how to process the situation. Suffice it to say I don't think either one of us slept very well. I knew I needed to stay guarded, and be careful, but as you all know, that is much easier said than done.

This was unlike anything we've experienced as yet throughout this process. This was the first time I received information through a phone call rather than an email. This was the first time there was a real, already born baby girl in the picture. How my heart was aching for her last night, and for her whole situation. Even if we weren't the couple who was supposed to be there with her, I wanted someone to be there.

This morning unfolded at a slow crawl that was utterly unsettling. I had called my parents last night to tell them, just so I could tell someone...but we didn't want to say too much too soon, so we left it at that. Then I took my parents to the airport this morning for their trip to CA. It was nice to see them in person, and to get to talk to them about the "almost baby girl." I think we were all dreaming a bit. By the time 11:00 a.m. rolled around, I sort of already knew this time wasn't our time. That hunch was confirmed by around 12:40 p.m. (not that anyone was counting) when our CW called to tell us the birth parents had chosen another couple.

So the rest of the day has been spent feeling alternately OK, and being completely downtrodden. Of course that has been mixed in with Michael working his two jobs, and me studying for my last three final exams. One thing we both decided is that we need to get a car seat! Having this happen...this so close experience...has made us realize just how unprepared we really are. I think that one item will be moving up on our to-do list in the very near future!

So that's that...there's really nothing more to say. For the people who were chosen, I am very happy. This whole experience was THE experience for someone, and that is awesome. I wish them, and that baby girl a lifetime of happiness and health. Everyone keeps saying that one of these times it really will be our turn. Even though I don't really believe that at the moment, this experience did make me realize that you just never know what is in store or what will happen or when. I feel oddly hopeful and heartbroken all at the same time.

Bursting at the Seems

Tonight I am screaming from the inside out, I am SO SICK of waiting!!! I feel frustrated and angry and left behind and just generally like my life is standing still while everyone else is spinning in happy little circles around me. I know I hardly have room to complain. I know there are many people out there who have far worse situations with which to cope. I get that. I know there are many people out there who have far better and more positive attitudes than I do right now. I am just so very frustrated, and so very fed up with this whole drawn out and overwhelming process!!!

I had to call BRU and change the "due date" on our baby registry yesterday. I can't explain why exactly, but that just set me off. It's a simple thing, inconsequential really, but it irked me to the core. BRU really needs to have a special registry for prospective adoptive parents so they don't have to specify a due date. Why can't we just put TBD? Seriously, with all the technology available these days you'd think that would be possible.

I'm also bothered because we now have to get our home study and paperwork updated. Even though we weren't officially active in the pool until July last year (due to the time it took me to create our profile letter and album,) our home study was done in April. HOW IS IT APRIL ALREADY??? I just didn't want to have to do these things, I wanted to have our baby by now. I know I sound like a pouty, whiny b*tch, but I'm sick of internalizing all this crap so I can put on yet another happy face that I don't really feel. My soul feels unsettled lately and it's really pulling me down. WHERE IS OUR BABY LOVE???

The other huge thing that has been heavily weighing on me lately (all puns intended!) is that I have been thinking a lot more about weight loss surgery (WLS.) Even after reading a book about it and going to a consultation at a WLS clinic near us, I am left feeling conflicted and unsure about the whole thing. This is really a post for another day, because it stirs up so many feelings that I don't...or maybe even can't share. Weight has been a lifelong battle for me, it's not like this is the first time I've thought about surgery. I think what's bugging me though, is that this is the first time I've thought about it this seriously, and I think adoption is at the core of that conundrum. There are many reasons why I think WLS might possibly be the right path for me to take, but to be perfectly honest, I don't know how, nor do I feel even remotely qualified to make a decision of this magnitude. And then there's the part of me that thinks (like BB said in a previous comment) that maybe our match will happen because of our struggles with weight rather than in spite of them. I want to be happy and healthy and live my best life, both now and in the future when I'm a mom, isn't that what everyone wants? But would losing my weight guarantee that I would be happier? NO...it wouldn't guarantee anything at all, and it might very well be a big mistake that I would later regret. I think I just think too much, and I probably just need to let it all sit for a while now that I've obtained so much new information.

As I stated in a previous post, all this self-doubt and wavering back and forth is really out of character for me, which is unsettling. Sometimes I don't feel there is anyone with whom I can really talk about all this stuff, which is more my fault than theirs. I have a really hard time voicing some of these thoughts and feelings, especially verbally and in person. Whatever...it just is what it is, and I have to realize that whatever is going to happen will happen one way or another. I'm certainly not a fatalist by any stretch of the imagination, but I do think that sometimes "freedom of choice" seems a lot more consequential than it really is.

I'm done for now.

Deflated

Lately I've been feeling pretty good, but these last couple days...it's like someone deflated my balloon. I can't pinpoint one thing that's gotten me down, other than the strong likelihood that my mood is largely in response to the monsoon-like weather Michigan has had recently. I actually enjoy the rain, but this has been a little too much for me. We had over two inches of rain this past weekend, complete with a flooded basement, and it's still coming down tonight. *Sigh*

The situation I mentioned in this post turned into another "no." Without going into details, I will say that my very first thought at hearing that news was one of relief more than anything else. That definitely tells you something. Still, every "no" also comes with some sadness for me. In theory, I do know our time will come, but practically speaking, this wait feels eternal.

I fear that I may become bitter the longer this takes. The rejection never gets any easier, no matter what the situation entails, but my reaction changes a little each time. The inevitable tears I cry take a little longer to arrive each subsequent time we receive the same basic email from our CW. They always sound similar, and basically say something to the effect of, "I know this is difficult, but so-and-so has chosen another family..." The more times I read those words, the more detached my reaction becomes. Maybe this is a healthy/normal defense mechanism, but it makes me feel a little uncomfortable.

In any case, our wait continues and I'm just plugging away. As miserable as I sound in this post, I'm really not. I am tired tonight, and therefore may be feeling a little more on edge than normal, but for the most part I'm just "walking along the plateau" (thanks to BB for that) of this journey.

The Name of My Game

OK, Friends...obviously I've been biting my blogging tongue lately since my last post was over two weeks ago. I know some of you have been wondering where I've been and I have to tell you, I've been trying to think about things other than adoption. I thought maybe even a break from blogging would help in that endeavor, but it hasn't. No matter what I do, or how much I tempt the fates by making myself insanely busy...adoption is still there in the recesses of my mind. Even when I ignore it, waiting is still the name of my game. I have been overwhelmingly busy, and that's 3/4 of the reason I've been absent from blogging lately, but I've also been testing my emotions during this time to see if a break made me feel any better. I probably don't have to tell you that it didn't...we all know how therapeutic blogging can be.

Before I continue, I'm giving you a wet blanket alert. You should know that if you read further, it's probably going to be depressing. Believe me, I've tried thinking about only those things for which I am thankful (there are many,) I've tried biding my time by preoccupying myself with other activities, and I've tried thinking positively. Purposeful though those things are, they are simply not enough to soothe my soul. My heart--and consequently my mind, always comes back to the unmistakable sense of longing I feel. I thought about sugar-coating this post, in an attempt to avoid being an emotional drain to my readers, but then I thought better of that idea. My #1 goal with this blog has always been to tell our adoption story (from my perspective) as it unfolds.

As it happens, this part of our process is not filled with warm fuzzy thoughts and uplifting news. We are where we are and that's just that. I talked to our social worker recently and there is still no news about any potential birth families. I feel discouraged by this. I've read several other posts, etc. lately that have indicated this is a very busy time for other agencies, so I'm wondering what's going on with ours? November and December were packed and now there's just nothing? I'm also worried because our home study was in late April last year and I have a feeling we're going to have to get that updated. I don't think it's a big ordeal, but it does mean more money and more paperwork, which, quite frankly, makes me feel exhausted. I just wonder when our time is going to come.

How much longer must wait and how much more must we endure? All we want is a family, why does it seem that's too much to ask? I want to be a mom...I need to be a mom, to raise a family with the man I love. Why does that heartfelt desire have to be so unendingly difficult? There are so very many questions in my mind and in my heart, I'm ready for some answers. I feel angry, disappointed, sad...so very sad. I HATE feeling this way. Negativity goes against my grain. I am a very laid back person, and there was a time in my life when I would have described myself as optimistic. The years of pain associated with infertility, and to a lesser extent, adoption have altered that aspect of my personality somewhat. I hate the notion that I may be a drag to the people who are trying to support me, but having said that, I can't change how I feel and I don't want to pretend to be someone or something I'm not.

In a big way, I feel so completely exhausted, and more than situationally exhausted, if that makes any sense. I'm tired of always being on the sidelines of motherhood...on the outside looking in. I'm tired of being the support person and the one who fills in the gaps for the real mothers. I want a leading role and I feel like I'm ready for such a role. HOW MUCH LONGER DO WE HAVE TO WAIT?

Whatever...there is really nothing more I can say tonight. I know that there is no way to succinctly explain everything that's on my mind. Anyone who could read minds would run screaming if they took a look at mine right now. I am spent.

Four Plus One

Today we have been officially waiting in the pool for four months and one day. Today I also found out the two other birth mothers that were on our radar screen have chosen other people. I'd like to say I'm feeling great and confident that the right one will come along, that I'm not sad at all...but that would be a lie. The truth is that I feel stung. I can't help but question what is wrong with us...why haven't we been chosen yet? Should we rewrite our letter...what did we say or not say that is causing us to be passed over? How come some people get chosen after only weeks in the pool while we must wait? Where is our baby Love??

I know this needs to be put into perspective. I know we have only been shown five times, one of which doesn't even really count because she chose the very first person she was shown. I know four months really isn't very long at all in the grand scheme of things. I know our baby will come when he or she is ready and not before. I know this will all unfold when the time is right. I know, I know, I know...and yet I can't seem to shake the feelings of angst I have with all of this.

I'm not doing any justice to my emotions with this post, I'm not qualifying how I really feel at all because I'm not sure I can. When I read the update email from our CW this afternoon I immediately got a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling of rejection and loss. Much like the feeling I used to get when I would take a pregnancy test after a missed period and it would be negative. Like that but also very much unlike that at the same time. Does this make any sense?

I think part of the problem is that my state of mind is skewed at the moment. I am exhausted beyond belief. I've been serving on a jury in downtown Detroit for the past two weeks and the trial is nowhere near completion. I'm also in the crunch time of a 16-credit hour semester and I'm missing a lot of classes. I'm behind on all my projects, my house is a mess, my car is a mess, I am a mess. I need a break--some time to recoup, but no break is on the horizon. I am well aware my attitude is rotten, and I'm quite certain I need to be quiet now and go use my time wisely, which is exactly what I'm going to do...starting now.

I don't miss it

Today during my observations for my elementary education field experience, I had an opportunity to talk with a woman who is currently undergoing treatments for infertility. It never ceases to amaze me how my life twists and turns, and still seems to align perfectly with the lives of others at times. During this happenstance conversation, I had the distinct and certain feeling that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be. Of course that knowledge is secure for me on an intellectual level, but it's so easy to forget and to wonder why we're still on this side of the parenting fence when we want so badly to cross over. It's easy to feel frustrated about where I am because sometimes I feel like my whole life is taking way too long to get going. Between school, substitute teaching, and where we are in the adoption process...I am constantly in varying stages of transition during this period in my life. Sometimes that gets really old. It's so weird for me to realize...if my life had gone according to my plans, I wouldn't have been where I was today. I wouldn't have made that valuable connection with another person - and who knows, maybe I was able to offer her some small semblance of peace or hope along her path as well.

The other thing that strikes me so profoundly as I reflect upon the conversation we had, is that I can say with 100% honesty that I do not miss infertility treatments one tiny little bit. Listening to her talk was like re-living an uncomfortable nightmare to which I already knew the unhappy ending. My ending, not hers. I don't feel that way about adoption though--even during my lowest times. I don't feel that same sense of despair and emotional exhaustion that was the constant companion of my journey through infertility. I don't miss the prods, pokes, bruises and pain. I don't miss the "days off for personal reasons," the scheduled sex, or trying to rush to the doctor's office before or after school and work...always cutting my time to the bone. I don't miss any of it...and with that realization I am newly reminded that we have something about which to rejoice right now. I have been so bogged down lately with school and work, and in my spare time feeling sorry for myself that I've forgotten to be happy. We ARE going to have a baby...when the time is right, and that is an awesome thought! That makes me want to jump for joy!

We've had two more opportunities to have our profile shown to potential birth mothers during these last few weeks. I haven't blogged about any of this because I didn't want a repeat of that excitement and disappointment cycle I went through the first time we were shown. Needless to say, neither of the subsequent two potential matches panned out for us, because if they had you can be sure I would have been talking. I'm okay with that though, and I honestly feel detachment was a much healthier way for me to handle having our profile shown. The truth is that we may have to go through that process many more times before our birth mother comes along - only time will tell. I am much more comfortable and secure with where we are now though, each time it does get a tiny bit easier...just like some of you said it would. After today I have a renewed sense of faith that our right time will come too...that we are indeed exactly where we should be; doubts, uncertainty and all.

The Truth

The truth is that sometimes the truth hurts. I've been one part extremely busy and one part extremely sad, hence the reason I've been away from the blogosphere for the past week or so. I'm sorry to all of you whose blogs I haven't read recently. I played a little catch up today and am feeling like a better blogging buddy now. :)

As for my sadness, I'm making progress in getting over our last bit of disappointing news from the agency. I don't know what in the world I was thinking, but I was thoroughly convinced that was our baby, even though it was our first time being shown and we only had a one in six chance. My hopes were sky high and I was very worked up. It was hard for me to hear we weren't chosen. Harder than it should have been, I think. Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with me. I've read some stories where people just move on and barely flinch when they aren't chosen--I admire the complete and utter faith some of you have. Sometimes I wish I could say the same for myself. I mean, I do have faith, but sometimes it feels rather fragile and shaky--not at all like the armor I know it is for some people. I guess it's just that I've wanted this - motherhood for so long now that sometimes I honestly feel like I can't wait another day. I know my time will come when the time is right, and I have absolutely NO control over when that will be, but that knowledge doesn't make this part of the process any easier.

Luckily I am busy these days, head-spinningly so. My semester has been a whirlwind lately, and when I'm not at school I'm either getting my feet wet with subbing jobs or doing homework. All this activity is supposed to make waiting easier, right? Right!

Blah...

My Own Personal Flood

No...I'm not in Iowa and {luckily} our basement isn't flooding right now, despite the large amount of rain we've had recently. For those two things I am grateful. But for some reason I can't shake the overall feeling of sadness I've had hanging over me these past several days.

I've been thinking a lot about life and death and the inevitability of it all. I think what first set me off is the realization that our puppy--our fur baby, Ditto is aging. She's eight now, going on nine...and she's starting to show her years. This little dog has been my baby. Simply put, I cannot imagine my life without her...and yet I know those days will come. When you get a pet, you pretty much know that (barring some freak accident) you will outlive that pet. But that realization doesn't actually hit home until you start to see the age in your beloved pet's eyes. Ditto is fine, really...she should still have several good years with us, but I guess I am hypersensitive to her changes because of how much I've loved her all these years. Without her I really feel like my heart would have shriveled up into a bitter, twisted little ball by now. Clearly I'm being overly dramatic but I just feel...so very sad right now.

The other factor is the silence in my house these days. Normally during the school year I care for my niece and another little girl here in my home three days a week. Both of their mothers work in the schools and now that school is out, my services are no longer needed. This is new for me this summer. In the past I had another little girl whose family wasn't affiliated with the schools so I cared for her all year. Plus my own school is out, except for one math class, so I'm not nearly as busy with my own activities as I have been for the past several months. I still see the kids in question, I am lucky in that regard, but it's just not the same. There is something different about having them here with me and having them all to myself than there is about seeing them for a few hours from time to time. I can't explain it any better than that. A lot of people who are infertile try to stay away from kids and keep any reminders of them at bay, but my coping strategy has been the exact opposite. For me, the more kids I can be around, the less preoccupied I am with my own lack of children, hence the happier I feel.

On top of all this...my dear friend (the mother of the other little girl I care for) and her family are moving away at the end of this summer. I am happy for them, because this change is one they've been longing for, but I'm so very sad they are leaving. I am going to miss them more than mere words can describe. It's not like we won't still be friends, but things are always different from a distance, they just are. All through my childhood my family was the one who moved away. I've lived in Michigan now for 15 years, and I guess that's a long time...now I'm the one being left behind. This is all foreign to me. Another close friend moved away a year ago and now this one, plus there have been several other people (just not quite as close) who have moved away over the past couple of years. I guess it's the changes I don't like. Change is inevitable but hard. I'm struggling with this and it is adding to my sadness.

Then there's adoption. Mostly I feel happy, but in an odd way I also feel sad. Our agency sent out an email this week (an email!!!) about a little baby who was deprived of oxygen for several minutes right after birth. The hospital used cold pack therapy to try and minimize any damage to her brain, but of course the extent of that will not be known until she begins to develop more. Well...because of the medical intervention...the family who was going to adopt this little one decided to back out. I guess there was some conflict with their own religious views and the medical treatment the baby received. SO...cut to the email I received...this sweet baby will need a new home. Her case will probably be handled as a "safe delivery," which is a law in Michigan (maybe in other states too?) that allows any birth parent to relinquish their newborn to any hospital, church, police officer, or fire station within 72 hours after birth, no questions asked. So after being gone all day long Monday, I got home and found THAT waiting in my inbox. Our adoption specialist is out of town right now and the birth parent specialist is doing both jobs. I'm not sure WHY this kind of information was sent out in email form, and I'm especially not sure why we received it since WE'RE NOT EVEN OFFICIALLY IN THE POOL YET. My heart aches for that little baby. We would open our home to her in a heartbeat (as I'm sure MANY other people waiting to adopt would) but we can't yet because of a few small formalities. And meanwhile this baby is in the hospital with no one holding her as I am here, heartbroken because I have no sweet baby to hold. SOMETIMES THE IRONIES OF LIFE ARE JUST A LITTLE TOO MUCH FOR ME!!! I love our agency and I have no other complaints about them, but how could they send such delicate/sensitive information via email?? Why did they do that?? I know the caseworker must have been overwhelmed and was probably doing the best she could...but seriously...she sent that above information out to a group of people who are all aching to become parents. HOW INSENSITIVE IS THAT?!!!

At times like this I have to take a deep breath and remember that I am where I am supposed to be and that things happen for a reason. I know it will all make sense someday when I look into the face of the child we have waited all these years to parent. Intellectually I know that, but emotionally I feel drained and pretty much like I don't know if I can wait one more day to become a mother. And yet I have no choice, so here I sit and here I am, waiting and nearly about to drown myself in sorrow. Normally I try to be positive and happy, but I just don't have it in me right now.

It Made Me Cry

Today we worked on our "acceptability checklist" for the adoption paperwork. We've both been putting this part off, but we had today off and it was time. This is the list of doom. Basically there is a line for just about every birth defect, disorder, abnormality, or problem you can think of. There is a section for the unborn babies in question, as well as one for the birth parents and family. Next to each line we have to check "yes," "no," or, "consult." I know it's important for us to seriously consider what we can and can't handle as parents, but how can you really know that for sure?

If I were pregnant--and believe me I've thought about what that would be like--we would never have a choice about many of these things. They would just happen. I'm sure we would be shocked, sad, scared, whatever...but then...ultimately we would figure out how to deal with whatever the hardship was and we would just do what we had to do. Having to check yes or no is heart wrenching. Luckily there is that third option of "consult" but even still this is one of the hardest tasks I've ever had to complete.

What we both want is what every expecting parent wants--a healthy baby. Of course we don't WANT a child with down syndrome, or HIV, or any of the other myriad of problems on the list. But no one wants that for their children! And yet plenty of people have it! And what if we say no and limit our chances? Does that thought alone make us bad people...selfish people? On the other hand, what if we say yes to...say...a drug addicted baby, but for the wrong reasons? What then? What if, because we want so much to be parents, and we want to be good people, we end up with a situation we were never prepared for, and one we aren't equipped to handle?

I read an article in our adoption binder called, "The Child We Might Have Been Too Blind to See," and that's when the tears came. It's this sweet story about baby Melissa. She was born at only 2 pounds, with undeveloped lungs, and many other issues. They didn't think she would live more than a few weeks, much less ever walk or talk. The story ends with baby Melissa performing a solo in her kindergarten play. Yes she has issues and yes her life will be challenging...but with the love of the parents who adopted her, she has come farther than anyone ever thought possible.

How do we balance between a story like that and our own desire for a healthy (not perfect, just healthy) baby? How do we answer honestly and be true to ourselves, yet avoid closing too many doors to our hope of a successful adoption? My heart feels heavy today, and I guess I'm sad a little bit in general. I'm happy we're getting all our requirements done, and moving forward, but I still feel sad.

I think we'll be making an appointment with Elly and Amanda for next week sometime, to review our birthparent letter, album, and remaining paperwork. One day at a time...