Adoption, we have found, is a series of choices. Domestic or International? Agency or Private? Open or Closed? Newborn or Toddler? And the deeper you get into the process, the more complicated the decisions get. It can be paralyzing if you let it – after all, the decisions you make will lead you to your child. What if I make the “wrong” decisions, will I get the “wrong” child? Okay, that might sound ridiculous but given how astounding the ramifications for all these choices are, it is hard not to be overwhelmed.
One decision every adoptive family confronts in the waiting stage is “to buy baby gear or not to buy baby gear?” Seriously, some sociologist or psychologist could have a field day studying what makes one couple fall into one group or the other. Right now, we fall in the “do not buy” camp. We have been waiting to get matched before buying the baby gear, and even then we’ll try and buy only what we need to get us through the first few weeks just in case something goes wrong. It makes me achingly sad to think of having unused baby items in the house. Seriously, what could be more sad (and more symbolic of our infertility journey) than an empty crib? But as with anything, it’s all in how you look at it. For others, that crib symbolizes the hope and faith that a baby will be sleeping in it one day.
Last night, while making dinner with the Grillmaster, I discovered that we have our own expressions of that hope and faith. We were having a rambling chat about the future – where we might live next, how long we’d be in our current house, new ideas I am having about a change in career – and sprinkled into the conversation were phrases such as “we should fix that before the baby comes” and “a space for the kids to play” and even “we should stay here through the second adoption”. Talking about parenthood as an inevitability was easy when we first started trying to build our family five and a half years ago. Then it began to be uncomfortable. Then painful. Then bordering on absurd, as if the universe was laughing at me “You?!? You as a parent?!?!. Haven’t we already put you in your place on that one?” In the beginning of our adoption journey, I had to struggle to say “when we adopt” not “if we adopt”.
What I realized last night is that I am thinking as a expecting parent - certainly not the same way as it would if I were pregnant because of the “but when?” element – but expecting nonetheless. Somehow all at the same time it seems an indulgent gift I am giving myself and natural expression of my faith that our dreams will be realized.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
This Post is Brought to You From Under the Covers
Do you ever just close your eyes and wait for a bad situation to be over…maybe on a roller coaster or during a scary scene in a movie? Obviously this is not a strategy to successfully navigate the majority of challenging situations you are going to face, but god, don’t you sometimes wish you could?
We’ve crossed into new territory in the adoption process. Our profile has been shown to a few different birthmothers. It’s always exciting to take that next step in the process because it means we are even closer to becoming parents, and yet, each new step is a bit scary as well. We don’t know too much about these potential birthmothers – most of the important information will only be provided to us if we are chosen to parent the child they are carrying. There is one thing that is a given in each situation, though, that this woman is in a very vulnerable, scary and – well just plain bad – situation. Learning even the most basic facts about their situations makes the pain involved in adoption all the more real. I really struggle with the fact that another woman’s misfortune is intrinsic to my own dreams coming true.
If that weren’t complicated enough, there are a number of other thoughts, fears, and hopes that are unleashed anytime we are put in front of a birthmother. Will she choose us? Is she taking care of herself and the baby? What is the situation with the birthfather? Is going to change her mind? And the big one – is this it? Is this our baby?
I’d be lying if I said that a part of me didn’t just want to close my eyes, cover my head with a blanket and/or crawl into bed until our baby is placed in our arms, maybe even until the adoption is finalized. But that isn’t life and it’s certainly not parenthood. The uncertainty of the process is somewhat akin, I suppose, to a high risk pregnancy. Your excitement about the impending birth is tempered by fear and anxiety. Your job is to manage your emotions as best as you can and believe it is all going to work out in the end. With us infertiles, that’s a tall order because in the past it hasn’t worked out for us.
But I suppose it is easy to have faith when things go right, isn’t it?
We’ve crossed into new territory in the adoption process. Our profile has been shown to a few different birthmothers. It’s always exciting to take that next step in the process because it means we are even closer to becoming parents, and yet, each new step is a bit scary as well. We don’t know too much about these potential birthmothers – most of the important information will only be provided to us if we are chosen to parent the child they are carrying. There is one thing that is a given in each situation, though, that this woman is in a very vulnerable, scary and – well just plain bad – situation. Learning even the most basic facts about their situations makes the pain involved in adoption all the more real. I really struggle with the fact that another woman’s misfortune is intrinsic to my own dreams coming true.
If that weren’t complicated enough, there are a number of other thoughts, fears, and hopes that are unleashed anytime we are put in front of a birthmother. Will she choose us? Is she taking care of herself and the baby? What is the situation with the birthfather? Is going to change her mind? And the big one – is this it? Is this our baby?
I’d be lying if I said that a part of me didn’t just want to close my eyes, cover my head with a blanket and/or crawl into bed until our baby is placed in our arms, maybe even until the adoption is finalized. But that isn’t life and it’s certainly not parenthood. The uncertainty of the process is somewhat akin, I suppose, to a high risk pregnancy. Your excitement about the impending birth is tempered by fear and anxiety. Your job is to manage your emotions as best as you can and believe it is all going to work out in the end. With us infertiles, that’s a tall order because in the past it hasn’t worked out for us.
But I suppose it is easy to have faith when things go right, isn’t it?
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