We’ve been waiting for almost three months now. It was not what I expected. It is both harder, easier, and just plain different than I thought back in December when we first met our social worker. This is by no means a coherent, philosophical thesis on the experience of being a “waiting” mother, but rather just some thoughts I’ve noticed jumping around my brain and my heart this “trimester.”
- It is really exciting to hear about birthmothers who are getting to the point of wanting to look at family profiles. We are usually just given the first initial for identification, sometimes the first two letters of the first name, but I tend to make up full names (Au is Audrey, E is Emily, Ke is Kelly, etc., even though I have no information that tells me whether I’m right or wrong). It’s usually only a matter of hours before I treat their babies like all the maybe-babies of last year, and try as I may, I fall passionately in love and start wondering, “Is this the one?”
- It is really hard to hear about a birthmother whose situation makes us uncomfortable enough to say no, please don’t show her our profile. Sometimes it’s not even something I can qualify logically, just a feeling that we aren’t ready to handle this birthmother’s sustained drug use or family history. It’s hard to not feel a little “holier-than-thou” as I respond in the negative, feeling that I have no right to judge her situation just because my life has turned out differently. Mike reminds me that we’re not judging her, we’re making what we feel to be the best decision for our family, but he agrees that this may be the hardest part of the whole process.
- Rejection in the form of a birthmother choosing another family over us feels a lot like rejection in the form of a publisher passing on my manuscript. Only a hundred times worse.
- I have lots of friends, family members, and church acquaintances who are pregnant right now. Thankfully, of probably ten women, I have only had to/gotten to attend one baby shower, for our good friend who works with Mike but is friends with both of us. I didn’t cry, but I had a moment cuddled up with Mike on the couch afterward, wondering if we’ll have enough notice to have a shower before our baby comes. What sort of celebrating will be done outside our home? Will people truly be as excited as they would be if I were pregnant?
- Hearing from our social worker via email, regardless of the message, makes me feel like we’re making progress. Not hearing from her for awhile, even if I know the reason is perfectly benign, makes me a little antsy.
- My body is still a mess, despite everyone’s best efforts to regulate my cycle and minimize the pain. I wonder how long that will go on, and if there is any way I’ll be able to nurse this baby and/or experience biological children someday down the road.
- I am really, really excited for my mom to come in a couple of weeks so we can pick out crib bedding together. It’s hard not to get it myself, but the longing to share something of this process with her always wins out.
- It is possible to go on with life and not sit around on pins and needles, waiting for news. It is possible to talk about things besides adoption and parenting. I was skeptical about that before we started this process, but I have learned. I am very relieved. So is Mike.
Thanks for the update. In answer to your question, I will be thrilled when your baby comes. Just as much as if you were pregnant. Hugs & love.