The adoption application, it hasn’t been mailed yet. It’s completely filled out and sitting on my desk.
I’m afraid to send it in. Once it’s mailed, that’s it. As long as it hasn’t been sent, no one can turn me down. As long as it’s still sitting on my desk, it represents the potential of a child. Once it’s mailed, the door is open for the agency to say, “Ha! Ha ha HA! You thought we’d let you have a kid? It’s cute how hopeful you were. No, seriously. I almost feel bad crushing your dreams. ALMOST.”
And so there it sits. On my desk.
I’m going to write the check for the application fee tonight, though. Honestly.
Baby steps. (Ha HA! Get it? Baby steps?)
Update: Ha! I did just write the check. And as I was reviewing the application to make sure it was all good before I slipped it into its envelope, I noticed the instructions at the top of the front page. The ones that directed me to answer the numbered questions on separate paper and attached the extra pages at the end of the application. I didn’t do that. I just wrote really small.
Does that mean I didn’t write enough? Now I need to do it over again??
I’ve been giving a lot of thought to domestic adoption lately. Scott and I had kind of a knee-jerk reaction to domestic adoption when we first started considering it. We were afraid to put our hearts on the line for a baby who could end up not being ours. Too, we were uncomfortable with the idea of birth parents. We’re insular people, for the most part, and the idea of adding strangers to our family in the form of birth parents wasn’t something we were comfortable with.
As we’ve become more and more comfortable with adoption in general, birth parents don’t seem so scary anymore. I’ve seen open adoptions that work really well, and that makes the idea of domestic adoption more attractive. But there’s still the laying your heart on the line thing, and I still know I can’t do that.
I think infertility wounded me deep down inside, more than I realize at first glance. Somewhere inside me, I became convinced that I couldn’t get pregnant because I don’t deserve to be a parent. And when I think about domestic adoption, I see that fear being translated into no birth parents ever picking me. I feel like they’ll see my profile and immediately know, on some gut level, that I don’t deserve a child, and there’s no way any woman would choose as an adoptive parent someone who doesn’t deserve a child.
But even feeling undeserving, I want a child. And I know that, if I adopt from China, I’ll have one. It may take a while, but at the end of the tunnel, there’s a baby for me. With any attempt at domestic adoption, I only see more heartache for me. And I don’t think my heart can take anymore.
To Whom It May Concern:
Ms. Butterfly (DOB: 11/25/19x) was a patient under my care at [medical center name]. In March 2003, she was diagnosed with stage III serous tumor of low malignant potential of the right ovary. These are non-invasive tumors with excellent survival and she did not receive adjuvant chemotherapy. In September 2004 she was diagnosed with a similar serous tumor in the left ovary treated with cystecomy. While there is a risk of recurrance of this tumor, her prospects for long-term survival are excellent and I would anticipate a normal life expectancy. She is not presently receiving any treatment for this condition and has no medical reasons that I know of that would prevent her from effectively parenting a child. Any further questions can be addressed to me at 212-xxx-xxxx.
Division of Gynecologic Oncology
People, we have lift-off.
So, the plan was to get the adoption application – yes, finally! – to the agency this past Friday. Unfortunately, that plan hinged on my seeing me oncologist on Thursday, so I could talk to him about the letter I need for the application. His office called on Wednesday and cancelled my appointment. The earliest reschedule I could get is the 31st.
So now we wait another 4 weeks.