Well, the deed is done. I dropped off the adoption application this afternoon. The admin will put us in the system, and the social worker will be contacting us shortly to get the fingerprinting process started. As that happens we will try and coordinate when we can take the short two day seminar that is the next step. That can take some time as they want to have as many people enrolled as possible, and there aren't any new couples in Harrisburg. We might end up in Lancaster, which is fine.
This was a tough decision at this point. John, being the financial wiz, really wanted to have more debt paid down along with a reserve from which to pull the money for the seminar, home study, and several other miscellaneous expenses. Completely logical and sensible.
My heart go in the way of his carefully laid plans. Realizing this, he juggled the books, and gave the go ahead. I love him so very much.
I needed to know that we were doing something. I couldn't just talk about it anymore. I was really starting to worry about my emotional state. The whole almost weeping at the tabloids thing started it.
Two days after that we went to a birthday party. It was a joint party for mom, and her and her husband's, one-year-old son. A sixteen-month-old little girl was at the party too. We had a blast playing with babies and visiting with the adults. As I managed to seduce the little girl with pretzels, chips, and lemonade, she and I were having lots of fun, but at the end of it all, she still always made sure her mom was handy for a hug.
I crave to be the only comfort for little arms. I want to now exactly what that certain cry means. I want to see John swing a little person from floor to his shoulders who belongs to him, who complete trusts his strong arms while laughing at the thrill of suddenly going from two feet tall to six three. It's in my genetic code. The wanting is nothing new. The depression that has started to follow visits with friends with children is new. And it is scary. Mostly because there is an edge of bitterness to it. I panic, because there is a part of me that is turning resentful of people I love very much. A friend relates her trying week at doctors' appointments because of ear infections that led to three days off from work and massive amounts of co-pays. She was stressed and frustrated. I was jealous.
Dropping off the application, made that slip a little. That's why I think it is a little like a positive pregnancy test. I don't have the chubby clinging arms yet, but I definitely know they are coming. I might not know the average nine months, but I know its coming. That makes it easier. That makes it exciting. It makes planning ahead to a nursery and playing the name game with John (Currently, he is trying to convince me that Coltrane would be a great first name for a boy. I am a little frightened because it is kinda growing on me. Help!) more optimistic than before.
So I end with the positive excitement I know feel. It has to be patient excitement, but it is excitement none the less.
And I don't have to worry about morning sickness.
DISCLAIMER: Some of you will recognize yourselves. I hope I haven't made you feel bad. I hope it doesn't sound like I am fishing for sympathy. You better not stop sharing stuff about babies with me or trying not to bring the kids around, etc. But I want to be completely honest in this blog for myself and for anyone who might realize this sounds like a lot herself and find some comfort in that.
1 month ago