Saturday, May 22, 2010

Say It Out Loud. I Dare You.

It is easy, when I am driving home from a morning's errands with a toddler, to purpose to work out while my young charge is napping. I have, after all, done it many times before. I can do it today! I don't know why I keep convincing myself of these things--it's not unlike my overly ambitious to do lists--but I am certain by the time I get home that I will work out. I will! Today I put the toddler to bed, changed into my workout gear, got out the exercise mat, moved the necessary furniture, and got all the way through the very first warm-up move before I realized that I wasn't just tired, I was so tired that I could cry for no reason, and standing mountain climbers are no way to go down. I turned off the DVD and showered instead.

It's been happening a lot lately--the donning of the workout wear, only to fold it neatly in a stack minutes later, reserved for another day when I can actually get through my workout. I could blame a lot of things for this. I could detail my schedule for the past two weeks, or even the past two days, and you'd get bored but get the idea. It's just that it's not only that. There are so many things up in the air right now. There are answers I don't have. When I am well rested, it is easier to let go. When I am exhausted, it's easy to get frustrated.

I'm exhausted.

All week we've spoken quietly to close friends of the baby whose information we may or may not get to review. I say things like, "Really, either way it's going to be fine. If she's our baby, we will be so happy, but if she's not, it's better for various reasons, many of them financial." And all of that is true. I talk about how she's probably not our baby and how that's okay and there will be another baby, and that's true, too. But it's also true that I really want this baby, and I'm afraid to say it out loud. I'm afraid to say out loud, "We want her. We would sign on the dotted line in a heartbeat if we got her file. We want her." We want her, we want her, we want her. And I know that it would be the absolutely wrong thing to criticize families who make their adoption decisions for different reasons than we do, and I know that it would be hypocritical to judge a family for double checking a medical file. We, too, have a short list of things we cannot handle (or, rather, that we choose not to handle because we are given the luxury of making that choice). But with this baby, it's hard because we don't even know (nor should we) if the other family was open to special needs at all. A part of me feels like it would be incredibly unjust for a family who wanted a "healthy" baby to have the first look at her information. I know that is terrible and horrible and selfish, but there it is. We want her. I've said it out loud. If that jinxes everything, if we are never allowed to adopt a baby because I dared to say out loud what I really thought and wanted, well, I guess that's just the way it is.

And did I mention that I'm so exhausted I could cry for absolutely no reason?

I really, really could.

(Send cookies.)

2 comments:

daysgoby said...

Oh, M, I'm so sorry.
A constant state of anticipation is wearing on body and soul.

I hope you can have a lazy Sunday.

Liz said...

The waiting stage can do strange things to your mental health, and I know it was hard for me not to get all judgemental about other people's adoption decisions while I waited.

Would it give you more compassion for the other family if I told you that at one point during my wait, I thought about upping my age range so that I could be matched with one of the waiting children from my agency (he was waiting only because he was 4, one year older than my official request). When you get to a certain point in the wait - i.e., longer than you thought you would have to wait - the careful thought you put into what your request would be and why starts to seem like a distant memory.

Hang in there, and I hope you hear one way or the other about this little girl soon!