Eleven

I wrote the last post right after I had gotten home from the meeting with our social worker, when I was feeling particularly vulnerable and emotional. I think people who know me generally think of me as a private person. I dislike talking about myself beyond superficial information and there are many things about my life and my past that might be surprising to the majority of the new people who are in my life. So I have conflicting feelings about writing so publicly about my emotional state as we go through the adoption process. It is generally not comfortable for me to be so transparent.  On the one hand I feel self-conscious and my usual knee-jerk desire to keep everything inside, but on the other hand there's something really wonderful about having a place to put my thoughts and feelings. There's something freeing about getting everything out in the open, about sharing the personal details of all this.  The people who read my words have been so nice and supportive to me, and that's a really incredible thing. I have gotten emails from strangers, people who have also adopted who just wanted to say hi and that they are thinking of us. That's really beyond incredible. The other day Kit told me that people want to read about all of the behind the scenes information--the worry, anxiety, and fear that one might face when they are adopting a baby. She said that's the part that nobody talks about and everybody wonders about. I was going on and on with my insecure ramblings, my worry about saying too much or appearing too self-serving and egotistical.  Kit said I should keep writing, and since we have been the closest of friends for the past 31 years, I tend to trust her judgment and wisdom. Nobody knows me like she does.

And it's now been nearly a week since that meeting and as it generally happens, with time comes clarity. I'm still worried about all of the possible bumps we could face, but right now I'm also a bit more aware of the ultimate truth, which is that this WILL end with our baby in our home permanently. And when that happens I know that Nghia and I will look back on the journey and we will know without a doubt that it was worth it. We really may go through a bit of agony to get there, but how could it not be worth it in the end? I'd literally walk through fire for Khai and Avi, so it makes sense that I would do the same for the next little one. Hopefully we won't have to walk through any fires, but if we do we can handle it together. Sometimes it's just what you have to do. If there's one thing I want to instill in my children, it's that they are capable of getting through hard times. Life is not always easy. Sometimes it's horrifically difficult, in fact. But it is amazing what people can get through.

Our neighbors up the street have a child who was adopted. Their son is 10 now and a very sweet, smart kid. Recently I was talking with one of the dads about their adoption process and he shared with me that years back they lost custody of a child who had been in their home for 6 months. After six months, before the adoption was finalized, a relative appeared, fought for custody and won. (This was through the foster care system, which is very different than adopting through an agency, like we're doing. In other words, this couldn't happen to us.) Here I am, terrified of losing a baby after one month and they lost one after six months. It's unthinkable. I asked the dad what that was like and his response was really beautiful and inspiring. He told me that it was very sad, that he and his partner cried a lot as they said goodbye to a baby they had loved. He told me they cried for weeks after she was gone and the sadness lingered for a long time. And then he said, "But we knew that we had helped her. We gave her a home when she needed one."

So if the unthinkable happens to us, hopefully we will be able to find comfort in knowing that we helped.

Avi says, "Power to the People!"