Thursday, October 26, 2006


Interesting development around here yesterday, must discuss...

A call came in at 3:00 yesterday afternoon asking The Hub if we would be interested in a three day old caucasian boy, healthy, voluntary TPR within the week. The baby was ready to be discharged from the hospital any time, and we were the first of three couples to be called (our social workers are fond of us). I was prepping a rack of lamb and didn't answer the phone when The Hub called me, since the number on caller ID was a strange name and I was up to my elbows in flesh. The Hub left work, the ladies in his office pushing him out the door and telling him to drive carefully.

I already knew that being asked if you'd parent three children under three will scramble your brain. Turns out, being asked if you'd like a newborn delivered to your door by dinnertime has the same effect. By the time The Hub got home, our twenty minute head start on other families was up, so we had to decide quickly.

It wasn't an immediate yes. We leaned toward no, we thought about baby names, we called both sets of parents, we leaned toward yes, we called my sister's fiance to find out if they could bring the crib in my parents' attic to our house that night, maybe pick up a mattress on the way out, and I broke into tears because I didn't have a crib quilt made and because my husband has never changed a diaper.

In the end, someone else said yes first. They've had an empty nursery for many,, many years, and I am so, so happy that I was boning the rack of lamb, that I didn't answer The Hub's call, and that our house is forty minutes from his office, because all those things meant that our friends finally brought home a baby from the hospital.

My mom is slightly miffed at me because we didn't say yes right away, but she'll live. We're thinking we'll buy some baby supplies so next time we won't be caught so off guard, and so we'll actually be able to think of something else other than, "We Have Nothing For A Baby." And if we'd taken this child, I think he would have been referred to as The Baby for weeks, since we've never thought that we'd be naming a foster or adopted child and don't have any names on deck.

Anyone else getting the feeling our agency is babyland? Can you believe that people go through their domestic infant programs and wait for years, whereas we are foster adopt with the intent of adopting 5-16 and within three months we've been offered four littles? All of this makes my head spin.

Back to work. Have a roux to make and a nap to take.

Monday, October 09, 2006

In which I almost start singing the Rolling Stones

I haven't known what to write lately, so I haven't written anything. Right now, I'm eating a can of wasabi peas, talking to a few old pals on Ventrilo, and trying to decide what's next.

Making a lot of things has been very nice lately. It is good to be working with a looming deadline, filling the spare rooms with toys, baby bedding, blankets, and other things, and to know that -- if they're appealing to others -- they'll have another home soon. But even that -- the chance my things might not be chosen, more specifically -- is worrying me. That a number of things have been purchased lately makes me feel like I'm floating, but still, I get scared.

I'm a bit down. I'm feeling... over processed. Or burnt. Or just tired. When we started out with the idea of adopting, I felt so optimistic. But now, I think I've just read to much, learned too much, and had too many disappointments and hard decisions in too short a time. And I'm frustrated that we're missing out on future events because we've got no idea of our time frame. I'm tired of not knowing, I'm tired of questioning, and above all, I'm scared. I'm scared we might still be in this limbo in another six months or year, I'm scared to say yes to the wrong kids, I'm scared to say no to the wrong kids, I don't even know if I'd recognize the right kid if he came up and kicked me in the shins. I'm tired of thinking about the ramifications of becoming a transracial family, I'm tired of learning about FAS, I'm tired of worrying about future rages and explosions, I'm scared we'll have to give our dogs away, I really don't want to have to spend weekends patching drywall or taping windows over with garbage bags or driving two hours to an RTC to visit an out of control child, and I don't want to ever, ever make a choice that will ruin my bond with my husband.

I've been thinking lately that I've made a huge mistake by starting down this path. It hurts so much to see that written, but there it is. I do not know if I am strong enough, tough enough, loving enough, patient enough, or whatever other words that were or weren't in the song "Beast of Burden."

I think this will pass. I think it has just been too long without good news on this front, and it is making my heart shrivel up a little bit. I'm just feeling lost.

Say hi? Please?