So I’m stressed.
Tomorrow we have to go to the last class, which consists of a potluck dinner and listening to a bunch of kids tell us about how they’ve aged out of the program because no one wanted them.
They want us (people who are willing to adopt) to sit through a panel of teenagers who no one wanted. I honestly don’t think I’ll make it through tomorrow without crying like a 10 year old schoolgirl who has just been punched in the arm by the boy who likes her. I’ve made it through 4 classes and countless horrifying and terrible statistics without shedding so much as a tear, but I know tomorrow will break me.
We had our first Home Visit Monday, and to be honest it felt like a 2 hour verbal rectal examination. I think this coming Monday will be worse. We’re at the end of the process folks. You know that old saying about tying a knot in the end of the rope and hanging on? I’ve got the knot tied, but I’m struggling to maintain the strength to hold on. I’m not funny anymore. I’ve pretty much given up on the comedy thing for now. I’m gaining all my weight back that I lost. I’m taking things out on friends. I’m taking things out on my readers.
But I’m not stressed because I’m doing something I’m not supposed to be doing. I’m stressed because I’m taking the biggest leap of my life. I’m about to claim responsibility for the lives of two children. Two people who will look to me for guidance and understanding about why the world has treated them so badly. Two people who will call me daddy and love me unconditionally, until they’re teenagers when they will hate me unconditionally.
We’ll more than likely be included in the meeting the Case Managers have in December to pick out available kids we might like. Which means that if we make a decision in December, we might have kids before Christmas.
Will this be my first Christmas with children?
Also, the adoption is not finalized until six months after we get the children. You know what can happen in that six months? A long lost family member can suddenly show up and take our kids away from us. No consideration on our part, just, “Well, thanks for watching them, they’re going home now.”
How would we be expected to recover from that? I can’t, and I WON’T compare it to a miscarriage, because I don’t think it’s even close to the same. However, I will say that it is probably the next worst thing. About the time you are starting to realize how much you love YOUR kids, they can get taken away. I don’t think that’s right at all, and I pray every day that this never happens to us.
But what if it does?
What if after we adopt Alicia gets pregnant?
What if the kids have some sort of undiagnosed problem when we get them?
What if I lose my job?
What if, what if, what if?
I know y’all don’t have the answers. I don’t expect you to be able to comfort or console me, and I don’t expect there to be much more tolerance of these “non-funny” blogs, although some would argue they never were funny to begin with.
The Missus told me today that she likes to read my blogs because I always say more on here than I do in real life. I guess that’s true. I’ve always liked to write as opposed to talk. After she reads this, she may realize that she’s bringing children into a household with a crazy man and run off and leave me. I can’t say that I’d blame her.
I’m ready, y’all. I am. Don’t get me wrong. I’m ready to be a daddy. I’m ready for sleepless nights and diapers and giving advice on how to properly start fires. I’m ready to discipline, I’m ready to teach, I’m ready to learn. The thing is, all that is coming at me faster than your mom, and right now I’m just stressed about it. It’s okay to be stressed though. Surely I’m not the only would-be parent that’s stressed about it. And I don’t think I’ll be the last.
So bear with me and give me some time, and I’ll turn this whole thing around to where it was, only maybe a little cleaner because my kids might one day stumble over this jewel, and I don’t want them getting the wrong impression of their dad.
Geez. I’ve got to go hide my archives.