Last year at this time, S and I were trying to endure our
third holiday season sans a much-wanted baby.
We had surpassed the predicted 15-18 month wait time due to a massive
slow-down in placements in our state and were trying to recognize that if we
stuck it out long enough we would be parents eventually. That’s the thing about adoption in most
cases. We knew that if we waited long
enough, we’d end up with a baby. It’s
one of the reasons I pushed toward adoption so quickly after failing to get
pregnant in 2 years time. Weighing the
cost of I-V-F vs. the cost of adoption (plus the adoption tax credit, yo), it
didn’t make sense to continue TTC. I-V-F
may have given us some answers, but at too high a cost both emotionally and monetarily.
Which brings me back to last year and enduring the holiday
season. It’s a weird thing to be
depressed and stuck, yet somewhere, deep down know that eventually this will
all go away. That becoming a parent,
while not happening on my schedule, is happening on some sort of schedule. We were able to make the most of our wait, trying
to keep ourselves distracted. We
traveled, taking some big trips, and some little trips to places we always
wanted to experience. We worked hard and
played hard. I got a promotion (after
applying 3 times, tenacity should be my middle name), but S has had some
difficulties in his position. I’m sure
that wasn’t helping his attitude much.
And so, we endured last year, pushing through, trying to
numb ourselves to the passage of time.
As the holiday season turned into spring we became more hopeful, we were
close to the top of the list after all!
And…nothing. Spring became summer
and we were staring down the barrel of a second homestudy update. Then, two weeks before we had to renew again,
Baby X came into our lives. We finally
have what we’ve been waiting for. It’s
amazing. He’s amazing. Everything is amazing.
Except it’s not.
Well, it is, but I’m still my same old snarky self, with added
stress. Wanted stress and welcomed
stress, but stress nonetheless. Was my
personality supposed to change? Was I
supposed to be “over it?” Was I supposed
to be giddily happy and positive and sunshine and rainbows forevermore? I’m happier.
I’m more relaxed. I don’t feel
stuck in a rut. I’m looking forward. But I’m still ME. I speak my mind, I hop on my
infertility/adoption soapbox from time to time, and I’m competitive. Hopefully, Baby X doesn’t hold it against me.