Post #worldadoptionday conversations
Monday was our 2nd wedding anniversary. I can’t believe that it’s been 24 months to the day since we chose each other – to dream and do life with, but also to wrestle the rough edges off of the other and to see healing come in the parts that only heal in relationship. It was also a day for me that I thought would be a good day to get the CALL despite knowing that it wasn’t likely to happen. It’s okay to dream dreams too.
We are in the waiting season familiar to most adoptive parents known as waiting for THE CALL.
The call that only comes from our social workers when there is a child who we potentially could be the right match for.
The call that only comes once there is no chance of things not being possible.
The call that social workers for the child, birth mom and prospective parents are working towards and yet no one can talk about anything with the prospective parents until the time is right for the call.
The call that means there is a wait.
A wait while you start to nest (and wash nappies) and prepare for a child who you aren’t sure about in terms of preferences, sizes or sleeping habits. (On receiving the call some of this is clarified a little, but how many of us on paper reveal the fullness of who we are in person).
A wait in which dreams of babies and bedrooms and nappies and what will our future small look like happen.
I catch myself occasionally looking around at people and wondering whether our small grow up with your build, or your eyes, or your skin tone? I know that it won’t be mine, so I am curious to discover what the unique blend of birth/ first parents has created.
A wait in which I wish for, and am grateful for, our immediate circles of family and friends being mindful of the bitter-sweetness of the adoption process so that when our small arrives, their immediate world is one which honours the duality of space from before as well as the now and the looking ahead.
A wait in which grandparents are picking up books and learning from adult transracial adoptees what it means to be adopted and asking questions around this in order to better love their next grandchild.
A wait in which future cousins and children in our community are asking questions or figuring things out about the future arrival.
A wait in which friends have been excited for us and asking questions.
A wait which until this week felt helpful in transitioning. Helpful in preparing us as a couple to be pressing into the space of us. Until this week when it was a lot of just us and now we are increasingly becoming aware of the space that we have created and are waiting for the small one to be the next one of us.
A wait in which I pray our small person comes home sooner rather than later so that the gap, grief and loss between saying farewell to a birth family and hello to the adoptive family isn’t longer than it absolutely needs to be.
A wait in which my heart is beginning to labour more. Another adopted mom said to me:
We were always excited for our children to come home, but then one day the excitement turned to a yearning.
When she first said this to me, the excitement resonated.
Today the yearning is.