The waiting is the hardest part.
I wish I could say that I wasn't agonizing every day over where my next child is, but that would be a lie. Most days I can repress it pretty well, push it down below the joy of this time in which I am home with my family so much that I can't even believe my good fortune. Cleaning, cooking meals, trips to the pool and the library and the zoo and the museum - these all feel so free and easy when I don't have to balance them with full time work. Part time work, which is what I've been doing, feels like such a breeze.
There are days, though, when I am driven to my knees with the desire to hold my baby. Times when I can do nothing but watch the gap between children growing wider while knowing there is nothing I can do to stop it. Moments when The Mister and I both look at each other and ask ourselves, "What's wrong with us? Why doesn't someone choose us?"
Of course the adoption agency was honest with us and gave full disclosure that placement could take as long as a couple of years. They also gave us their average placement times, which were 0-6 months. I heard it all, but I was sure that we would be one of the lucky couples who fell into that average time. As we enter our fifth month of waiting, I wonder how much longer I have in me.
Early on, we counted statistics like they were candy. We get monthly check-in's stating how many couples the agency has versus how many birth mothers. We know how many birth mothers are reading our profile. We know general due dates of potential birth mothers. These things all seemed like hope prior to this month. Now, they feel like evidence of our failure. Like proof that a birth mother will pick nearly anyone but us to raise her child. When we oriented with our agency, there were many other couples in our class. All but two of them have their babies in their arms. We are one of the two.
It feels ungrateful to express doubt, to complain, to whine. Friends dance delicately around the subject, wanting to check in but wanting to guard my tender heart as well. I am always honest with them when I say, matter-of-factly, that there's nothing we can do but wait. I don't cry or wail. I joke occasionally, but I don't let the negative feelings take over, leak onto the very people who are helping us bring this child into our family.
So here it is: I guess what I'm saying is that this is harder than I thought it would be. And that I still see the light at the end of the tunnel; I just wish I could tell how long that tunnel was.