With the lapse if time between my posts, you would almost assume the wait is going by swiftly and without reason for write.
Yeah, wouldn’t that be swell.
Today is 3 months. Three long months. Three very long months. I has not helped that we submitted our dossier right before Thanksgiving when the clock was ticking fast and would continue to tick away till we threw out the 2007 calendars. January & February are remarkably long and dark in MN. Our social calendars have been booming and we commiserate that we are swamped at work, but even the distractions can not draw attention from the obvious. Quite a bit has happened on the adoption front, but evening finding the energy and time to write about it lately has been a challenge and an additional reminder that this is a long energy sucking process.
The two most substantial changes are the suspension of birth family contact and the extended wait which may push our referral out till after the court closure. I will write about both more extensively this weekend, but for now I am enjoying the mood lift of a sunny and warm February day. Tomorrow is supposed to snow, cloud over, and whip us with a wind chill reminder that it is still winter. I will save those posts for tomorrow when my assumed mood will correlate with the topic.
Adoption is a strange process. Not a bad strange, but just unlike anything I will most likely ever experience. It is a suspended happiness. A true grass is greener situation where we will be happier when we add to our family. Don’t misunderstand me, we do live everyday to the fullest and really are appreciating this stage of our family, but for the past 5 years we have existed on a precarious slope teetering between the extremes of emotions and anticipating living. After a few years of squatting, we made this home. We were refuges who knew we would never go back to the way it was but also didn’t know where our ticket out would take us. Now we have the ticket, we know the path, but again we do not have any control over the process. As I will half sleeping through a 6am spin class this week, I closed my eyes and really tried to imagine that I was not sitting on a bike in a room reminiscent of a one-sided hall of mirrors. I wished the industrial fans were rather trade winds and the lingering stank of sweat was instead the salt of the ocean. When the instructor called out that a huge hill was ahead I was taken from my happy place. Adoption makes you feel like you are spinning your wheels constantly. You crank through one part only to realize there are many huge hills ahead. I do close my eyes and imagine our family, perhaps even our family on a warm winter vacation where I enjoy every moment of chasing a busy toddler across a sandy beach. For now, though, I spin away.
Perhaps someday I can trade the bike for a jog stroller. Until then, I will have to close my eyes and imagine.