Birth woman has gotten involved with all sorts of vigilante anti-adoption stuff… and it is all over the internet. Considering her mental conditions, shady friends and questionable judgment, this blog just isn’t safe. To protect my family, this blog is being deleted.
Thank you all for coming along on the ride.
PS- I’ve decided to keep a few items up from during the homestudy, I would have loved to have access to someone else’s experiences while I was going through mine, so I thought maybe someone could benefit.
Our homestudy was APPROVED!!! We’re in “invisible pregnancy” land, and we have no idea what our “due date” is.
How do you prepare for a child when you don’t know what their gender or AGE is going to be? (shrugs) I’m just so happy!
Our fate as potential adoptive parents has likely already been decided. Council was this morning, and our social worker was scheduled to present our file then. It’s nerve wracking to know that THEY, the supreme power in this adoption dance, know our fate, yet we will not know until tomorrow. I doubt I’ll sleep tonight.
The feeling is very much like after getting the egg retrieval done for IVF, knowing I’d done everything right and F had done everything right, and that we no longer had control. Some embryologist knew what was going on with our potential babies, and we were at her mercy to keep us informed. It’s unsettling, but tomorrow, by this time (hopefully) we’ll know the answer to the burning question:
Did we pass our homestudy?!?
There are two weeks until we find out if we passed our homestudy.
Well, one of the more different things about this two week wait is that, unlike all those medicated cycles of fertility treatments, where I had symptoms to analyze and sticks to pee on, I really have NOTHING to make any indication of our success or failure. I’ve spent some time thinking about the silly things I used to obsess over, cramps, temperature charts, queasiness, invisible HPT lines, tender breasts, or what one woman coined “porn-star nipples” (my friends and I had a chuckle over that). I remember once, early on, slicing open a green pepper and finding a perfectly formed baby green pepper inside, I was convinced it was a sign (Yes, it’s ok to laugh at that one, I won’t hold it against you). I say this not to convince you of my insanity, but to indicate to the uninitiated how overwhelmingly all-encompassing trying to conceive is for those who are truly infertile. Every moment of every day, it was all I thought about, and while the signs and symptoms really were nothing more than the creations of a desperate mind, they served a purpose. They gave me hope, they sustained me through a wait during which each moment contained an eternity.
Please don’t misunderstand, I have hope that this will work… hope is all I have. Unfortunately, the events which gave me hope are going further and further into the past with each passing day, and I am having to cling to fragmented memories of a week that flew by in a flurry of interviews. There is no ambiguous HPT residing in my medicine cabinet, beckoning me to tilt it every which way under various light sources. Tomorrow morning I will wake up, and everything will be the same as it was today, that twinge I felt today in the area of my uterus was likely a cyst popping, and I know that. And so I’ve been trying to keep sane, and keep the hope alive, by doing little things like writing a story for my future child, compiling songs for an “I love you no matter what” CD (any suggestions are welcomed), and catching up on my favorite adoption blogs.
One of the treasures of blogland has to be this guy. He is a stay at home adoptive dad, struggling through a position made for women. He’s doing a great job, admits his pitfalls, seems to really respect his wife, and above all, he really adores his daughter, and he really “gets” what parenthood is all about. The entry that I linked to above is just a cute little chuckle, where he learns to understand intimately what women go through each day at home, as it becomes a part of who he is.
I was reading blogs and came across THIS . It stirred up some feelings I have been having lately.
When I think of my future child, a whole host of emotions rush through me… I am excited, happy, elated and all those cheerful feelings of a future mother. I am also nervous and uncertain, both emotions my friends all expressed while expecting. Then, there’s the other stuff, the not so normal feelings that come with the foster/adopt experience. My child will not be born to me, and I can say in all honesty, I don’t care about that… what I do care about is that he or she will have a history without me, and it will not be a happy one.
Children don’t come into foster care from happy families, they don’t even come into foster care through mildly dysfunctional families… it takes an extreme level of danger to the child for a removal to happen, and an even worse situation to determine the child will NEVER be placed back with their parents and must be adopted. My baby, my heart and soul, will come to me from a damaged life. I will have failed in my first duty to protect him or her simply by virtue of being unable to. That child will have been hurt by those that should have cared, and betrayed by the very womb that brought him or her into the world. I can spend the next 18 years promising with every breath that I will NEVER betray or hurt them, but why should he or she believe me? After all, that very first bond was one tainted by the actions of the biological parents – and I am just a stranger. I know the love that I already feel, but I will never be able to let my future child feel it through my eyes.
Well, my dreams for the past few nights have been 1000 shades of “weird”. The night before last I fought dreams of houses murdering babies and children. The kids then became mannequins in disjointed pieces which needed to be pieced back together. Try as I might, I could never find all the pieces to make them whole again, and so they walked around with gaping holes in their torsos trying to find their missing piece. Last night, my dreams included reborns (life-like dolls that some women carry around with them and treat like real babies) and adult babies (a fetish mostly indulged in by men who, as the name suggests, like to be treated as babies). Neither is something I’m interested in, nor would I ever be… though I’ll admit to finding both subjects fascinating, like a movie you want to stop watching but just can’t. I’ll also admit that I find reborns to be an exceptional art form, and wouldn’t mind having one of the better ones to display in my home (no beating hearts or breathing mechanisms please).
These odd dreams, quite clearly, are caused by my stresses about this whole foster-adoption process. While the first one has clear meaning, the dreams of last night are more obscure, though they too revolve around some sort of non-traditional child/parent relationship. I suppose my unconscious mind is just trying to make sense of this whole experience.
I had to go into work all day today, usually I just work from my home, some things, however, require an “in-person” worker. You’d think the mounds of tedious paperwork would have been enough to keep my mind off the future, and they may have been! People, literally dozens of them, kept coming to me to congratulate me… I had to keep explaining that we wouldn’t know anything until the 31st but people in general have already written us off as passing in their minds. I don’t want to be a downer, but I also need to protect myself a little bit, I can’t let this become too positive in my mind because failure would break me. It’s probably way too late for that, but I just have to be cautious anyway, if you’re reading this blog with any interest, you likely know what I mean. It’s just too easy to hope, and too crushing to fail. So for now, I’ll be the party pooper and continue to let people know that we will not be counting our chickens until they hatch… or at least until the 31st.
It’s 1:21am, I don’t know how long I’ve been awake for. My nerves are shot, my head is spinning and I have no clue how I’ll make it through the next 2 weeks. I was ill again this morning, which made me totally regret the fried chicken I had for supper last night on the empty stomach from all day yesterday. I feel like such a head case, even my IVF cycle didn’t affect me like this. The stress is extreme, and no one tells you how crazy with anxiety it will make you.
Now, don’t get me wrong, if this works out, it will ALL be worth it. Oh please let this work out…
For some unknown reason, I also woke up from a brief sleep period with the song from the Zeller’s commercial stuck in my head, if you’re not familiar, see below. It just keeps repeating over and over and over and… well, you get the idea. At least I know all the words!
On a side note, it’s amazing what you can find on YouTube these days.
Yippee! The Home Evaluation is over!!! To be honest, it seems odd to have it over, it didn’t last very long and I’ve spent so much time and effort getting ready. We won’t know until the 31st if the committee accepts us as adoptive parents. It seems ironic that even after all these years of fertility treatments, my path to parenthood will involve a never-ending 2 week wait. Maybe it seems more fitting than ironic, maybe both.
First, the social worker looked around our house, she made comments about where the kids would sleep and asked where we got all of our baby stuff. After that, we went to the table, and she had us build our “dream home” out of pieces of cardboard. I snuck a glance at what she wrote about the activity, and apparently she deduced from this that we are open to change and do not disagree with each other. Seriously though, who would have an all out fight with their spouse over a fake house in front of a social worker??? You have to wonder about the validity of some of these things. After that, F filled in some papers on intimacy that I had already done, and she was finished! She didn’t open any cupboards, or examine anything at all. She didn’t even have a coffee or biscuits – and I spent the time to learn how to make coffee too. *shrug*
One nice tidbit she didn’t have to let us know, but she said she’s going to recommend us for adoption (the committee still makes the choices)!!! I’ll take that over a triphasic chart any day!
Well, I spent the night tossing and turning, it was not a restful sleep at all. I did sleep though, I was too exhausted to do anything else. All night my dreams rotated around the same theme, having children placed with us. In one dream, we sent back a child because her cheekbones weren’t right, in another, the biological parents were perfect and we were the ones who neglected the kids. It was quite nightmarish actually, because I could feel my mind fighting these things, I knew, even as I slept, that they could not be real. In a few dreams, we had cat-like children placed with us, which I thoroughly blame on JM, a former friend of mine who used to dream of giving birth to kittens during her fertility treatments. This whole ride (infertility, adoption, etc.) just really messes with your mind.
What no one told me, not online or in person, was that I’d spend the morning of the home evaluation vomiting in the same toilet I spent half an hour scrubbing last night. It’s nerves, and I can still feel it, but since my stomach is now empty I think I’m done with my “morning sickness”. Funny thing was, I spent the whole time thinking about how I would now have to rescrub the damn toilet. *sigh* Oh well, at least I don’t have months of this, but for today at least, I will not be risking food at all.