Dang. Well, for about six months there I was having an easy breezy time with the wait. It was quite odd for this anxious old bird to feel so calm. I think reaching the finish line of the paperwork race left me with a nice runner's high that I was able to coast on for a blissfully long time. But that apparently is all over and done with now. I'm a wreck. I don't know what triggered it, but I am just a HOT MESS.
The wait times keep shifting on us, as is to be expected with international adoption. The health of the referral coming our way is unpredictable, as is expected with international adoption. With every passing day, I cringe as we nudge closer to the rainy season. I'm beating back nauseating waves of gloom and doom that the program will implode in on itself, submerged under bureaucratic nerves and inflated demand. I am so scared this will not work out in the end. I'm going to my book club tonight, which I love, and dreading the cheery, wide-eyed, innocent questions of whether we've gotten our referral yet and then what happens after that anyways, hop on a plane, no?, court date blah blah blah, wait time blah blah blah, glazed eyes blah blah blah. No referral this month, but any day now I'll chirp. Any! Day! Now!
I'm making myself sick with this dour post. Buck up, Mama Dog! One foot in front of the other now...
My best friend, the Pup's Godmother, was living with us for two months until recently. I'm now of the firm belief that every waiting adoptive mom should have their best friend swoop into town for a good chunk of the waiting time. Your best friend will make you laugh until you throw up (true story!) and she'll peel you grapefruits and she'll do spot-on impressions of the ladies on The Bachelor and she'll blow dry your hair all pretty and she'll make you pies. She won't make you feel dumb at all if you have to practically be shoved into a Baby Gap then only to tear up over a little white shirt dotted with cherries. She'll understand that after you spend $67 on the dearest clothes imaginable you'll immediately start worrying that you've singlehandedly jinxed your whole adoption. She won't wince if you then start indulging in some gallows humor about how if the adoption does fall through maybe you could give away some of these new outfits at friends' future baby showers with stone-faced proclamations that this little denim jumper was hand-dipped in a vat of tears and bitterness and these little corduroy pants have our infertility diagnosis tucked in the front pocket so go on now and enjoy. Your best friend will join in on such morbid humor and before you know it you'll be laughing again. Best friends are the best when you are at your worst.
And I seem to be grinding down to my worst. Pretty, pretty please let this all work out. Baby, you get here when you need to but just so you know, we're ready to meet you. Your Godmother wants to shower you with laughter and pies. Your Papa Dog wants to make you homemade food and tell you not to pull the cats' tails. Your crazy Mama wants to look at you while you sleep and whisper in your ear "Thank you for getting here bunny rabbit, we're so happy to know you, we're going to have so much fun together, you and I, so sleep tight, perfect child, and trust that you'll wake up to people who will do their best to always do right by you."
**Went to book club and had fabulous time, cocooned in glow of good will. When I admitted I'd never read a single Harry Potter, one friend said "That is the perfect book to read while you wait to meet your daughter." At the end we said goodbye, until next month, and I made dumb joke about maybe March making a mother out of me. Same friend leaned over and said "Oh please, you're already a mother." Now that's a quality lot of ladies right there!