A Toast

I've been reading a lot of "year-in-review" type posts, both in blogland and on FB.  They are all usually very reflective and include new goals/resolutions for the coming year.  It's normal this time of year to do this -- but I just don't have it in me.  I really don't want to reflect on 2011 or the stress/loss/frustration it brought me.  Nor do I want to set any goals for next year -- I've done that in the past, and have yet to achieve the goal I want most.

So I'll keep this simple: I raise my glass and give a cordial nod to 2011.  We certainly weren't the best of friends.   2012, you get the same.  I hope you'll understand why I'm keeping my heart guarded, even as we move forward on this journey.  To all my bloggy friends, I thank you for the unconditional love and unending support.  I've not been deserving -- but I am eternally grateful.  I'm hoping that 2012 brings you more joy than sorrow, more peace than chaos, and more chocolate than brussel sprouts.  I wish you lots of heartfelt hugs and slobbery kisses (from spouses, children, and furbabies alike).  I wish for you the same thing that I wish for myself -- happiness -- in whatever form that takes.

Give yourself a gift tonight, or tomorrow.  A hot bubble bath, a new book, a glass of wine.  Sign it with love from me to you.  You deserve that -- and so much more.

Initial Home Visit

We are slowly checking items off of our to-do list for DHS.  Yesterday was our initial home consult.  The flurry of activity that preceded it far outweighed the gravity of having our home "judged" for the first time!  I finally hung pictures that have been propped against walls in the guest rooms for the last two years.  I finished framing Mo's anniversary gift and hung that, too.  I even vacuumed the upstairs -- something I haven't done in at least a year.  :-)  Mo was as helpful as he could be given that he can hardly walk -- he is still recovering from his kn.ee surgery  and is forbidden from standing for too long or going up stairs.  Still, he scrubbed bathrooms, folded laundry, changed lightbulbs, and organized his office.  Our house is positively sparkling -- a fact that the DHS liason could not possibly fully appreciate in the ten minute walk-through we had!  Still, I'm glad for the informal nature and sweet disposition of our case worker.  She works specifically with the local organization we are using to help us through this process, and is doing her very best to make this smooth and as free from heartache as she can.  

The first interview was very basic -- where do we work, how long, where do we go to church, etc. (Yes, despite my personal views, we do attend church sporadically.  Mo doesn't share my outlook, and I try to support his opinions as I would want him to support mine).   We received a much more thorough questionnaire to fill out at our convenience, which we did last night.  It was fairly easy for me, as it basically assessed our childhood experiences.  I had a great childhood -- raised by my biological parents, whose marriage didn't fall apart until after I was in college.  I am lucky in that I have mostly happy memories of my childhood and a good relationship with my mother.  Mo, however, was very uncomfortable with a lot of the questions.  He had a turbulent childhood at best, and doesn't like to rehash it.  I was pleased that he was honest in his assessments, however, because, as I reminded him -- they aren't looking for perfection.  They are looking for us to have learned from our past and have discussed our own child-rearing practices.

The most surprising (and happy) thing I've discovered through this process is how on board Mo truly has become. He tells everyone he knows that we are adopting, and has received so much love and support in return.  I know that once he decides to do something, he goes for it with his whole being. Still, it's nice to see that personality trait applied to something so close to my own heart.    I am confident that -- as much as we both want this -- we will find a way to make it work, however it all plays out.   

50-50

I sincerely appreciate all the thoughtful comments left on my post the other day.  Ya'll have always got my back, and that's what I love about this little corner of the blogosphere.  I do feel the need to continue this conversation, though, so if that's not your Christmas cup o'tea (I'm sure you've got plenty of your own family drama), then feel free to skip this post and come back for the much-anticipated infertility boo-hooing that is sure to soon commence.

Society constantly reminds us that a "good" relationship is one that is 50-50.  We hold that magic number in our heads from infancy, dreaming of the soulmate who will one day fulfill that missing half.  I've never found mine, and despite what I read online, I'm highly skeptical that too many others have either.  In my experience, relationships of any kind are rarely 50-50.  There is always a giver and a taker.  In the best relationships, the give and take shifts constantly.  It may be 70-30 today, but 20-80 next week.  It's a constant ebb and flow, then, rather than a static my-share, your-share kind of deal.

Marriage, for me, is not 50-50 either.  Whether its my innate personality (I'm a fixer, a doer) or something else, I find that I often take on more than my "fair share."  That's not to say that there haven't been times when Mo is supporting me -- far from it.  We have had days/weeks/months where I give close to nothing, and he takes up the slack.  But that's never what gets blogged about, is it?  The times when I am a puddle of misery, hiding under the covers from the world, and he makes me laugh.  The days when he surprises me with flowers, or dinner out, or a homemade video.   Or the nights when he tenderly stroked my cheek and tells me how much he loves me.  (It's okay, you can go throw up now).  The point is, first and foremost, that I tend to blog as an outlet for emotions that I can't express elsewhere -- hence the angsty, angry, bitter, and often dreadful overtones of this space.  Sorry for that, folks.

So, no, we don't have a 50-50 relationship.  And there have been times when the bad definitely outweighs the good.  For many years, we probably had about 20% good times compared to 80% hell-on-wheels.  Sickness, death, financial troubles, family drama -- we've had it all.  So what makes me stay?  I stay because the good times ARE so good that they make me forget the bad (at least until the next bad time rolls around).  I stay because the ratio is no longer so dismal -- I'd say quite fairly we have about an 80/20 good time /bad time these days.  The past week has been an anomaly, brought about by several factors.  The pain from Mo's surgery, the rollercoaster of narcotics, the hardship that is the holidays without Mo's family, the reminders of what could have -- should have -- been.  The anniversaries we'd like to forget.  The dreams that are yet unfulfilled.  All of these things have colored our outlooks on life as of late, and none for the better.

Unfortunately, we are both flawed.  Tempers are short.  Moods are black.  In other words, it's Christmas, ya'll.  :-)  Here's hoping yours is better than expected.

Not Worth It

I have struggled most of my adult life with feelings of inferiority.  I work twice as hard as anyone else, because I believe I am no good otherwise.  That goes double for my personal life.  I have persevered longer than anyone else ever would at saving a marriage that most would have abandoned by now.

I'm the girl who shops at thrift stores because I don't "deserve" new clothes.  I'm the one who picks up and reuses Mo's discarded towels because they're "fine" and good enough.  I cook and I clean and I shop and I pay bills and I pull virtually all of the weight (financial and emotional) in our marriage.

And, quite frankly, I'm beginning to think it's not worth it.

This sacrifice, this endurance all in the name of baby.

I want to be a mother more than anything else in the world.

But I also want to be free to be ME.  And lately, the two seem incompatible.  While Mo and I are definitely on the same page for Project Baby, that's about the only thing we agree on anymore.

Mo had surgery last week, and we've had four raging, knockdown drag out fights since.  Everything I do pisses him off.

I should care more.

It's quite telling that I don't.

Old Emotions Resurface

Today I held a baby who was just hours old.  I breathed in his scent and marveled at the tiny fingers and toes.  I whispered sweet murmurs in his ear, and for a few seconds, I imagined a different baby, a different ending to our story.

And then I handed him back to his mother.

I managed to keep the tears at bay until I was safely in the car, but oh god.  The ache.  That familiar, heavy, throbbing in my chest that I have kept so successfully buried the last few months resurfaced, claws digging in fast, refusing to let go.  

There are days when I am numb, when I wonder if I am even capable of love anymore.

Today was not one of those days.

Two Years

December 10, 2009

First Hurdle Cleared.....

I finally turned in our first stack of paperwork today and got us registered for our training classes next month.  I asked the liason about what our next steps should be if we are interested in a particular case, and she told me that contacting their caseworker (they are in a different county) would be the next thing to do.  Apparently, there are ways to sidestep all the background checks, etc. (well, not sidestep them, but go ahead with a placement while its all being done).  Usually its done for a relative of some kind (even distant ones), but the very fact that strings CAN be pulled is all I needed to know.  I am not at all adverse to letting a few get pulled on my behalf -- especially after all we've been through!  So, nothing really new to report -- just moving ahead with the process.  But we are definitely not out of it yet when it comes to this situation, and I appreciate all of your comments and support.  I am trying hard not to get my hopes up that this is the one for us, but I definitely am starting to believe that this might very well be the way we eventually build our family.

Only time will tell.....

It CAN'T Be That Easy....Can It?

So, less than two days after our first meeting with DHS, Mo received a phone call from one of his co-workers, asking if we might be interested in a possible adoption situation.  I obviously can't state the details here, but it absolutely was one that we would consider.  I realize that it is a LOOOOONG SHOT (we haven't even turned in our paperwork yet, let alone completed training/home studies/ etc.), but the neatest part was Mo's reaction.  He IMMEDIATELY got all teary-eyed (just like he has done each time I've shown him a positive pee-stick) and he sat down abruptly and looked right at me.  "Is this the day our lives change forever?" he asked me, oh-so-sincerely.  He was so emotional, and it was like this whole thing just got very, very real for him.  It was amazing to see the total transformation from six months ago, and completely erased any lingering doubts I might have had that he isn't 100% on board.  

While I am hesitant to get too excited that this particular situation will be ours (though I would love it to be), I am THRILLED to have a little more motivation to get the ball rolling even faster.  So I'm off to fill out a  stack of paperwork this morning and will be calling our contact person first thing Monday to get everything notarized and start crossing things off the list.

If this situation isn't for us now -- there will be one someday.   I just hope it comes sooner rather than later.

Never Say Never

I broke my own rule today, and attended a baby shower.  It wasn't as terrible as I had feared.  Granted, it was a work shower, and those tend to be quick and painless.  I think the whole thing lasted maybe 30 minutes.  We ate cake, drank punch, and watched my gorgeous co-worker open a stack of presents.  (It's really infuriating -- not only is she pregnant, but she's one of those tiny women who gain absolutely no weight except in their belly.  If I didn't love her, I would probably hate her. :-))

To be honest, shopping for her was harder than being at the shower.  Walking through the baby aisles, even with a registry in hand and a pointed, direct plan of attack, is hard.  I quickly went for an item I knew she wanted that was in the appropriate price range and cleared on out.  Luckily, she loved it (or so she said), and I'll never know if she exchanges it for something else.

All in all, if the teacher right next door to me had to be pregnant, I'm glad it was her.  She's been a model fertile -- never mentions her pregnancy unless I do, always quick to ask me how I'm doing, etc.  It has made it hard to be angry with her, despite the fact that she has everything I want, without hardly trying.

I don't know how soon I'll brave another shower, but I'm happy to say that I survived this one.  Maybe, just maybe, someday I will have my own.