In my happy times time flies and I forget it is here. In my sad times I run to it and have cathartic dumps of words. And that is why I am here dear friends.
Shane and I were matched. If you don't know adoption terminology it means that our agency thought we would be a good match for a birth mom. Sounds great right? Not when the match does not work out. Then that match turns into what I like to call an adoption miscarriage. We didn't quite have an actual adoption miscarriage. In fact, we didn't even get to meet the kids. Yes. Kids. Plural. Let me start from the beginning.
I was at Kohl's the other day when my phone starting blasting Lady Gaga's "the edge of glory." Its our adoption song. It's the ringtone to our agency and everything related to our babies adoptions. My heart skipped a beat. I knew that ringtone but it had not rang in so long. I answered. Fast. Sure enough. It was what I thought it could be. A match. Well. A possible match.
Agency person called to tell us about a very special situation. Two siblings. 2.5 girl and 4.5 boy. For the sake of their privacy that's all I can say. He thought that because of our open mentality and current parenting views we would want to meet them. The mom in me wanted to say yes. The social worker as well. The heartbroken paper-pregnant woman who is seeking to have her family complete was desperate to say yes.
So I said, can you send me a picture and I'll call you back. And I hung up. And cried. And then texted S because I didn't have the courage to call him. And he said no. That's his story. And I respect his privacy. We agree it's a no. A big no. There's birth order and emotional attachment and L's well-being and his world being turned upside down and finances and our families and I know this is a big long run-on sentence. There's many reasons why not. In fact there doesn't have to be any reasons. If a match doesn't match then its a no go. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like hell.
I want my second child. I want to be able to breathe a sigh of thankful relief that my arms are filled by the two most important people in my life. But I sit here with one baby sleeping quietly in his room. A little boy with dirty fingernails and sticky hair even after bath time. And I know that I am blessed. I know I need to be thankful. Yet I am broken.
L is my world. If I don't ever parent anyone else again I will die happy because I got to parent but everyday I mourn the fact that I do not have any control as to HOW my family is formed. I have no control over the agency showing our profile to a birth mom. I have no control over wether she chooses us or not. I know we chose adoption as the means to create our family and I know the wait is long and I know its worth it. But tonight I came home to this blog because I don't understand any of that. I want Liam to meet Mila. I want them to be close in age. I want him to have what I didn't have. A companion, a partner in crime, a best friend.
Tonight I don't understand and this blog doesn't judge me. This blog doesn't jump to conclusions or assume anything. It just listens.
I am terrified that this is going to put a negative checkmark next to our name at the agency. We will be those people who didn't say yes to those wonderful kids. And I know those are irrational fears. I'm a social worker for God's sake. Irrational and highly unethical. But tonight I don't understand. Tonight I am broken. So I came home.
Thank you for reading this because by doing so you are supporting me. And if I've been an asshole now you know why.
Ps.. I am highly embarrassed about the lack of grammar, punctuation and sense of this post. But tonight I just don't understand.