Avoidance. Ignoring it altogether. That might be my aim lately with regards to adoption.
Hi, I'm Jody, aka shmode. When Noscere invited me to join his parade, inside I panicked a little. Not because he suggested a topic I know little about, but because it's been a topic I've been ignoring up until now. Talk about an opportune time to pull my head out of my ass. Or arse. There is my singular snappy little tribute to Noscere's side of the ocean.
Us Canadians, we tend to be on the whole a fairly laid back kind of people, a very you-wear-your-toque-backwards-and-I'll-say-'eh', relaxed attitude. It's quite commonly known around the world that we are not a very up-tightie-whitey group of citizens.
What a load of horse pucky. Good God almighty, I'm a nervous pile of shit and I'm seriously pissed off at myself for not being way more excited at this upcoming experience. How the hell can I pass myself off as a Canadian eh if I can't even keep my own farging peace?
I haven't written a single word about adoption here yet have I. I haven't given the world of Noscere one iota of my exhaustive wisdom about a topic so near and dear to me. I am typing this at 12:30 in the morning after various chocolate raids - hence the rambling - and directly above my head is of course the ceiling, which is the floor of the room of the sweetest little boy imaginable.
I had four days to prepare for him. Four measly days for the impending arrival of a being that has changed my life drastically. I am married to a great guy and we have two beautiful daughters, but I knew our family was not complete. I knew in my heart our family wasn't big enough yet. Since both of us knew that post-partum depression was not something I was ever going to allow myself to experience again, there was only one option.
I don't want you to get the wrong idea either. I've had adoption on my mind since I was a young teenager. A program intended to entice older married couples to adopt the "unadoptable" actually gave direction to a fifteen year old girl for her future. It wasn't as if adoption was ever something that was the last resort, and I am one of the fortunate who didn't have to suffer with infertility to get to that point.
We made the decision in mere hours after being told that he was ours if we wanted him. How could we not have taken that? I'll never forget telling my two daughters that they were going to be big sisters finally - although our wait was extremely short at only 9 months, for 6 and 8 year old girls, it was a long wait.
I've drawn you this lovely picture of a family that has been blessed beyond what we could have ever imagined. So why am I so resistant to hold on to that feeling of anticipation again? Why am I ignoring it?
I have no freakin' clue.
The paperwork for us is fairly basic because we've decided to repeat the previous route and adopt domestically through our government system. Back in the 80s, they would've called these children the "unadoptable", and since that's a horrible term to think of a person, it is thankfully not used anymore. These are often sibling groups, or special needs kids with a variety of disabilities, or just plain old, simply not infants. Yes, ladies and gents, a child is harder to adopt out if they have #1. been removed from their birth home and #2. not an infant.
Waiting is the most common heard term for us adoptive parents and that is where we currently are in the general process. Just waiting on the government to schedule a homestudy, and once that is approved, we're in the system and ready to be placed with a child.
It sounds so formal, so dead, such a benign process for an event surrounding a small human being. That's it. Well shit, that's so totally the issue. For as long as I've had to deal with the government in this, my brain, my heart have both finally come to terms with the government's messed-up, systematic means of driving us all bonkers while we wait, and instead of being panicky and frantic like I was before on the outside, I've just gone all Canadian and let it be.
So ... we wait. I'm going to put on my toque, turn on a hockey game, open an ice cold beer eh ... and then pack that crap up because knowing my luck the social worker would show up.
Keep your stick on the ice people.