Monday, February 11, 2013
+116edit.jpg)
2011 was a tough year for our little family, my 3 year old daughter, my husband and I. We spent the year waiting. Waiting for the baby we were hoping to adopt, that is, waiting for to be approved, waiting for the phone to ring with opportunity, waiting for either the phone call to scramble to the next step or the email that always started with the same d*mn sentence (So and So has chosen a family and unfortunately it wasn't yours…blah, blah, blah…it didn't really matter past the first sentence), waiting for babies you already loved and thought you would raise to be born, waiting to recover when you learn you won’t, waiting to feel like you can face people again, waiting to start the whole process over again, waiting to find out if the ending to your story was a happy one.
It was the end of January when we found out we were officially available to be chosen by Birth moms. I just *knew* we were going to be one of those couples that gets matched right away, so we really wouldn't have to wait long. (In defense of that particular foolishness, all 3 of the families we knew that used our agency had babies in about 6 weeks).
In February, I spent my wait time transforming the guest bedroom into a nursery—painting the walls, putting together my daughter’s old crib. After the years and uncertainty of infertility, being on a road with a definite baby at the end felt amazing. I bought two coming home outfits—one for a boy and one for a girl. I didn't even have to feel secretive and horrible inside for wasting money on a dream that life kept telling me I didn't deserve! The waiting was full of excitement. There was heartbreak too, but every. single. day. was a new chance for the phone to ring. I was glued to it. I never even went to the bathroom without my phone.
By the time I had waited myself into June, whole months without a phone call at all sometimes, I began to feel silly for carrying that stupid phone around. It mocked me, refusing to ring, making me jump out of my skin if the hairdresser called to confirm an appointment. That’s about when the wait got painful and made it hard to let my little girl play dolls in the nursery. We delayed and delayed making plans for our usual Summer vacation until it was clear that we would not have to then cancel them for a baby.
Near the end of July, after losing count of the number of women who decidedly did not want us to raise their baby…one did. The wait was over! Well, let me tell you, waiting for woman you've never met to give birth to “your” child in another state is a whole other ball of waiting wax. It is one full of fun and finally telling friends, but the anxiety of hoping all the pieces end up fitting together is nearly unbearable. Until the actual unbearable wait shows up, that is. The one that starts with a phone call and entails waiting for your universe to stop spinning while you literally gasp for air. This baby would not be our son. It was awful-- horrendous, but a known risk going in (adoptive parents assume ALL the risk, every step of the way).
We started over, got back on the roller coaster and agreed to wait some more. Blessedly short this time, we were matched again in September. A little more cautious, a little less to do since everything was ready. This wait promised to be short, as she was suspected to be due any day (no one actually knew for sure). Then the worst of all the waiting showed it’s nasty face…the agency lost track of her…for 11 days. Then she reconnected, had “our” son, felt conflicted and said she’d call when she figured out what she was going to do. She never called. Day by excruciating day, we lost hope by inches. We thought about waiting until we had healed to put ourselves back in the pool, but what was the point really? Wasn't the whole stupid game about waiting anyway? Under the pressure of one tenderhearted three year old girl who was desperate for her brother to come home, we decided to get back out there. But, the year came to a close with someone missing at Christmas, a dresser full of unworn baby boy clothes in the nursery and three broken hearts still waiting.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments
(Atom)
LinkWithin
Welcome!
Looking forward to connecting with you about Life, Wellness, and being Uniquely You!
Subscribe To
Posts
Comments
0 comments:
Post a Comment