This Sucks

I am struggling at the moment. Things are hard. I wish they weren't. I wish I were different and I were able to feel positive and hopeful, but I'm not and I can't.

The final decision got delayed and so we are waiting for a number of weeks. More waiting. Wait upon wait. It's agonising actually. Agonising, that is, when I let myself think about it. We got the news about the delay 10 days ago and after a few days of feeling very low and sad, I have spent the rest of the time feeling quite numb. I'm not thinking about it. I have tried to convince myself that it's not happening, that it's going to be a no, and so now I am just trying to push all thought of adoption and babies out of my head.

But today it's crashed on me a bit and I've been unable to avoid it - pictures of cute babies, baby name inspiration, toddler groups, etc. It's horrible, because when we were waiting for the first hearing, which I wrote about here, I came to the conclusion that I might as well enjoy it, feel positive and let myself get excited, because surely it couldn't make me feel any worse than I was already feeling. And yet when the bad news came I did feel worse, and I wished I hadn't started to get excited and think about what life would be like when the baby came.

So I'm back to doing what I do best - being negative and assuming the worst. But it's hard, because you can't help what your subconscious is doing. And sometimes I feel like I'm trying to trick myself into believing that it's not going to happen, while actually deep down I am still hopeful that it will. It's like I've got two of me - 'Well, she says it's not going to happen, but really she thinks it will. Let's just humour her."

The judge delayed, apparently, because - first reason given: he saw some progress in mum; second reason given: he has to delay if mum contests the adoption plan, which she did. So we don't actually know what the situation is - either he thinks mum is on the right track, in which case it's likely that he will rule in her favour, or his hands are tied and he will weigh up the evidence at the end of the month and make his decision then. Helen reckons that there isn't enough time for mum to show enough of an improvement, but I'm not sure. If he's seen enough at this point to make him question the adoption plan, then surely he could choose to make a preemptive decision, based on the presumption that the changes he has seen thus far will continue. And FFA was not agreed to because there's a chance (in my mind a strong chance) that the baby will end up with mum. (I hope it's obvious enough without pointing out that I actually believe this to be a good outcome. As with all my posts, this is simply me writing from my position, my point of view. I can't pretend I'd not be disappointed but that's not for the baby's sake - it's purely selfish. And I can't pretend that the fact the baby is going back to mum would be enough to keep a smile on my face: brutal truth - I would be upset).

But anyway, I am really trying hard to put all of that out of my mind. I can't possibly know what the judge will decide or why, and there's really no use in going over it in my mind.

People's responses have been varied - some knew about the initial hearing date, and still haven't asked how it went. I'm disappointed by that and feel let down that those people aren't really following along on this journey with us. Others responded by getting back down on their knees to keep praying, whereas I for one at the moment just can't see the point. And one or two have simply acknowledged that it's difficult and painful and rubbish.

And today I am feeling extremely low. I keep thinking about all the heartache, disappointment, grief, sadness and pain of the last 8 years. Yes we have Bounce. But that doesn't erase the pain of infertility and the stress of going through this process. I feel again like we could be spared this agony by simply being kept in the dark about this match being explored. And instead we are stuck here, waiting, and all the while other vulnerable babies needing shelter are passing us by. We've had to pull out of three potential matches that we were being considered for on Link Maker. It's going to get to the end of the month, a year after being approved, and we'll be back to square one, but with considerably thinner skin, significantly more bruises, and our energy, tears, and stores of positivity running dangerously low. I am dreading it.

All the Feels

I don't even know how I'm feeling at the moment. I can't think of a description without resorting to overused phrases relating to rollercoasters (thanks Ronan Keating). And really that wouldn't be very accurate anyway as it's mostly the down-er sections of the rollercoaster at the moment.

We are thrilled to have been matched. Totally thrilled and wonder-struck. It's what we've been waiting for.

But also, it's not really what we've been waiting for. We've been waiting for a baby - a lovely little one to come to our family, a little sibling for Bounce to be big brother to. And we are still waiting for this. But now it's different.

Someone, somewhere, has decided that we are the right family for this little one to come to. And now, a judge needs to agree that adoption is the right plan for this baby. And so we are waiting for the outcome of the court hearing, which is scheduled for sometime soon. Helen is optimistic that a final decision will be made at this hearing, whereas the baby's social worker - Lisa - doesn't seem to agree.

We met her - Lisa - the other day, and it was weird. It was a weird meeting. She was...weird. If you've read any of my other posts, you'll probably now be thinking, 'Ah - standard - she's got it in for social workers so no surprises that she doesn't like this one. Change the record.' But - it's really not like that! We just had a strange impression from her.

For starters, there was absolutely zero emotional warmth, empathy or even awareness of how we might be feeling. I don't want at all to give them impression that this situation is harder for us than it is for anyone else involved - we obviously don't think that at all. But it felt off that she made no mention of being pleased the match had been made, no congratulations, well wishes or 'ooh you must be so excited!' She made no efforts AT ALL to get to know the two of us, asked nothing about Bounce, showed no interest in how we were feeling or what things we'd being doing to get ready. The only person she showed any emotional awareness of was the current foster carers, who - according to her - are going to find it very difficult when the baby gets placed with adopters. It was weird. And I get it - she was there to share the baby's CPR and to answer questions. But still, it's not quite what we were expecting.

In contrast to Helen, Lisa was not convinced that the final decision would be made in the upcoming hearing. She kept mentioning the particular judge that's lined up and she was hinting that he would be a "difficult sell" due to this and that. She was moaning at us about things that she just "knew" would be thrown at her about the birth mum's situation, and basically was rolling her eyes at us and sort of just grumbling about what she assumed would happen. She then laughingly told us that she is going on leave the next day, and so if it's not resolved then it will have to be delayed by four weeks to await her return. Again she didn't acknowledge that this would be a bit a bitter pill.

We asked Lisa whether the baby could be moved in on an FFA basis even if a final decision isn't made, and she was very reluctant about this, despite initially reassuring us that once the baby's moved in there's no way a judge will remove them back to birth mum. She said she wouldn't want to risk this happening if we went down the FFA route; even when I pointed out that, in our understanding, this is the nature of FFA, she wasn't up for it at all. She said she would follow it up with the legal team and pursue this as an alternative, but we don't feel assured that she will do as she says.

So we have another few days of waiting - but we don't know what we're waiting for! It could be a final decision, followed by an almost immediate start to introductions (yay!), it could be that paperwork isn't finalised and the whole thing gets delayed, or it could be that the judge delays the final hearing until the baby's social worker is back off leave. Another 4 weeks of waiting would be hard.

Yeh, hard. About that....

I'm finding this period hard, and it's hard to know why it's hard. It's hard to hold onto the excitement that we've been matched, and that things are coming together to pair us up with this precious little life, while also holding back a bit because the final decision could end up being that it's better for birth mum to be given another chance. We can't fly unfettered into "YAY!" territory, arms wide and giving it everything, because this might not be it. But, we still need to prepare. We still need to get the room ready, buy stuff, tell people, and start making arrangements at work. Because it could be a matter of days now.

It feels so muddled. And I hate feeling like this. I feel like I did before, when we were waiting for a match. I've closed up a bit, shrunk back, and have got a bit tight and bitter and sad and knotted up. I don't want to let myself feel anything, so I feel partially numb, but - horrendously - it's only the positive emotions which I'm blocking out. It's so annoying and silly. There are things to feel happy and excited and hopeful about, but it's 'easier' (is it, though?) to do what I'm doing and tighten up a bit.

I've made baby blankets, I've planned the intros book, I've cleared the baby's room and I've bought a new car seat. But I resolutely have not enjoyed any of it. It's horrid. I've felt numb and almost resentful of having to do any of it. Argh I cannot express how it feels to be living this at the moment. We've shared the wonderful news with close friends, but then have had to dampen it down and invariably others are far more excited and happy than we feel. I feel exhausted emotionally and I hate it.

I was thinking earlier that if the worst happens (for us I mean - most of this is written from a purely selfish point of view) and this all falls through, then will the fact that I'm making myself feel like this now make any difference? Will I cope better with that later disappointment because I'm trying so hard now to stay reserved and distant and not going for this all wholeheartedly? Probably not. I can't imagine how that will feel but I'm certain that my current outlook won't make it any easier. So why not just enjoy this now, while I can, and allow myself to feel good and positive? Maybe I'll try it.

Match Made!

So... as of 4 weeks ago, we have a match! It's bizarre that I haven't written about it yet because in some ways it's the only thing worth writing about. I've somehow managed to waffle on for 14 blog posts without saying very much at all I suppose. But this was always intended to be a way of charting the journey, and so I suppose part of that journey is simply not really feeling like writing much.

So - how do I sum up how things have been for the past month?? Well, initially - and this is all I'll focus on in this post - there was jubilation! Helen phoned me when I was on the train, on the way home from a two day conference. It had been an interesting week. And by interesting I mean bad/good.

We had been told that there were two babies that they were family finding for, and that there were two families waiting. The odds were in our favour (even my Maths skills stretch that far), so we, and Helen, felt fairly hopeful. The first matching meeting was scheduled for a Friday, and at the end of the day we found out that the decision hadn't gone our way. We felt like we'd been kicked. We felt bruised and battered. We felt that they'd got it wrong - we really believed we were the right match. How could they not see that? How could anyone else have possibly been a better match? They had even been looking for a church-going family. If we couldn't get there even in this case, how would we ever?! We were gutted, exhausted and cross. It turned out the thing that had swung it was that the birth mother was likely to have further children, and the other adopters were in a better position to provide a home for those future children... It stung a bit, and it riled me in the same way anything riles me where I am directly affected and yet have no way of influencing events or sharing my thoughts or even entering into a dialogue.

The second matching meeting, for baby number two, was scheduled for the Monday. That day, I felt unwell all day. Not physically as such, but I did not feel good. I was permanently expecting my phone to go, and the anticipation just really got to me. I suppose I was preempting bad news. I was irritable and sad even though there was a chance we'd get good news. My response was to shut down, close in and let myself feel bad. We hadn't been told that the meeting would be taking place at the end of the day, and it wasn't until around 6pm that we heard from Helen - via email - that a decision hadn't been reached... it was, essentially, a tie break. And the decision-maker didn't see how she could make a decision any sooner than Wednesday at the earliest. Bad timing, because I was booked in on this two day conference, without Hubby, for Wednesday and Thursday. The prospect of more bad news, delivered to me while I was on my own, made me feel terrible.

I somehow got through. I mean it sounds ridiculous now; it's not like I endured an iron man marathon or had to rebuild my house after a devastating flood, or even got served a cup of tea made with skimmed milk. But it felt big - going away on my own, with friends but still, not with Hubby, having to "wear my work hat" and hold things together. I was determined not to be glued to my phone, obsessively checking it, but I must admit I didn't quite manage that.

Well I got through, and got on the train and headed home. And then Helen rang - and as soon as I saw my phone light up I knew it would be good news. Bad news and she'd have emailed. I cried down the phone, stammered out a few words, and that was that. Good news. At last.

Other people while we wait

I've been wanting to write about what it's like waiting - what it's like in terms of our interactions with other people.

It's funny, because if I were pregnant I imagine that questions about the impending arrival would be frequent, repetitive and very forthcoming. It's an easy one, isn't it, making small talk with a pregnant lady. Pretty safe and straightforward (in most cases that is). But for us, for me and Hubby, we, despite being expectant parents, are rarely asked about things. I wonder if that will change once we have a match and are actively waiting for a baby to move in, but for now the conversations are uncommon.

I wonder why it is. I think it's a mixture of things - shyness, for a start. Some people are shy about bringing up the subject. They know we've been waiting a while now, and perhaps they are anxious about upsetting me by asking about how things are going. This makes a lot of sense - why would you want to keep going on about something which, as far as you can tell, is not happening?

Other people, I think, are unsure and are put off by their lack of understanding. They don't want to say the wrong thing, they don't know the lingo, the process, the way things work, and so they avoid the embarrassment by just saying nothing. Perhaps they are aware of confidentiality and don't want to put their foot in it and make things awkward for me. So they simply leave it alone.

Others, I guess those who are closer to us, perhaps just leave it up to us to start the conversation. Often we have sent prayer requests to close friends, or little updates here and there about things that are happening, partly to keep them in the loop and partly so that they know how we're feeling and what we're going through. Perhaps these friends don't bring up the subject at other points because they know that when we want and need to, we will.

But sometimes, it makes me a little sad, this lack of chat. But other times, it makes me sad to talk about it. So I guess no-one can win! Either way, I might be sad! If I'm in certain frame of mind, someone asking me for an update might irritate me, seem too personal, a bit intrusive and insensitive. But, I think more often, a person not asking irritates me more. I can't help but make that pregnant lady comparison, and think about how different things would be if I had a growing belly. So it's a strange one, but I mustn't forget that it's strange for our friends and family too. It would be easier for them, more straightforward, if we were expecting a baby naturally, but we're not. And so they have to negotiate the situation, which, for all the above reasons, isn't very straightforward.

If you've read this post, I'm afraid that's it. Nothing very groundbreaking or worthwhile. But just something I'm experiencing and so I didn't want to leave it out.

Am I pro-Adoption?

I’m not sure. 

I’m really not sure any more. 

It used to be a definite and resounding “Yes!” Adoption – a way of mending what’s been broken, of bringing life and security. A means by which a child can be restored and healed and can start to thrive. A way of sharing the love and safety and wellbeing you have to give. 

But, also: Adoption – a way of tearing apart, of bringing heartache and pain and grief and depression. A way of perpetuating cycles and removing people’s reasons to live and try. For some, actually for lots, adoption is bleak and dark and heartbreaking. 

Sometimes, like when we’re writing our contact letters to birth parents, I choke up about how something that has brought me such joy can also bring someone else such pain. Our adoption of Bounce will never be purely good, it isn’t possible. Adoption can never be a resounding “Yes!” because by its very nature it has sprung from a place of darkness and struggle. It is bittersweet. 

As a Christian I can’t help but think of biblical parallels. God is our heavenly Father. Adoption speaks of the Father heart of God. It is a beautiful image of how God takes our broken, far-from-him, far-from-right lives and nurtures us back to life. It’s about redemption, which I strongly believe God is in the business of – he takes those things that are spoilt, rubbish and lost and somehow, graciously, brings good out of them. He turns water into wine. 

But that imagery isn’t quite all it seems to be. In reality, adoption isn’t beautiful for everyone. Yes I am pleased (not quite the right word) to be able to help Bounce thrive, to show him safety and love and provision in all the right ways, but it’s sad that this has to happen. It isn’t right and it isn’t triumphant. Where God’s adoption of us sings of victory and overcoming, our adoption of Bounce…whispers quietly of loss, regret, pain, hope and love. 

I suppose what I am trying to say is that adoption, in an ideal world, wouldn’t exist. Obviously. But sadly, there is a need. I am glad not to be in a position of making decisions about removing children (removing – how could there not be pain when it’s a word like that?). I am glad, too, to be in a position where we can offer a home, safety, love, provision, and a family to a child who otherwise would be missing out on those things. It’s such a strange conflict in me: I want a baby, I can’t conceive a baby; I want a baby, I’ll adopt a baby. Does this mean I’m glad that Bounce needed adopting? Does this mean I’m currently waiting, subconsciously, for a mother and baby to be forced apart? Does this mean I’m eager for a mum somewhere to not quite reach the grade?

A while back, I read on Twitter a good line: Adoption is important and sad. I totally agree and I often come back to that in my mind. But on reflection I think I would add a note of more hopefulness than that. A slight thawing, like a snowdrop on a sunny day in early February. Adoption speaks of joy, it hints at something good. It’s birthed in pain and heartache, on both sides, but it speaks – just quietly - of longing fulfilled, of the gift of life – good, healthy, protected life, of second chances, of family, and of a chance for something wonderful to happen. 

Waiting

We’ve been waiting an age. Or so it feels, at least. It’s been around seven months now, which, compared to the four we waited last time, feels long. Christmas helped, because December is busy anyway and it was full of subconscious ‘perhaps once all the festivities have finished…perhaps in the new year…’ in the way that these things are. 

There’s lots of that while you wait, isn’t there. ‘Perhaps at their wedding we’ll have a baby…Perhaps I won’t be at work when that change comes into force because I’ll be off with the baby…Perhaps I’ll have to cancel that holiday I’ve just booked because we’ll have just had a baby move in…’ It’s painful but, I think, natural and unavoidable. 

It’s harder when it’s things like ‘I hope we have a baby before they do…by the time they have their baby we will probably have been matched and then we can have play dates…they’re ten years younger than us and are onto baby number four…’ 

Roosevelt was right, I think, when he said that comparison is the thief of joy. 

Waiting is different this time. I didn’t think there would be a “this time.” I thought our go at baby-heartache and difficulty and waiting was over. I thought we’d conceive the rest of our family naturally. I thought we’d got through the tough hand we’d been dealt and that we’d earnt an easier ride this time. I thought wrong. I try not to dwell on the whys and the wherefores. It is like this and we get on. But there is sadness and grief every time I’m reminded of what we want and are yet to have. Of what we may never have. 

I looked after my beautiful niece when my brother and sister in law were in hospital having their baby number two. It was a precious, sad day. New life, family joy, miracles; such joy. But sadness too – I wanted someone else to be looking after Bounce while me and dkjsd were in the hospital having our baby number two. I wanted others to be on tenterhooks waiting to hear our good news and be sent brand-new-straight-from-the-womb baby photos. I wanted to be on to baby number two before my younger brother. I want, I want, I want; grief and sadness often expose the most self-centred parts of my heart. And then my brother named the baby after me, for all the most emotional and humbling and surprising reasons. 

And yet, we are hopeful. We do have hope. We have a wonderful boy. We are awaiting a match with a baby and we are hopeful that this baby will bring joy and happiness and laughter that will fill us to overflowing, just like what happened with Bounce. And I am waiting now, in this season, in a strange place. A place I’ve been before, and disliked before, but now, looking back, am desperately glad I was in. If things had gone my way I wouldn’t have been there. But I am mightily pleased that I didn’t get my way. 

So I suppose this time is a breathing space. That’s part of what I’m trying to do through all this writing. Take stock and breathe and ride the wave. All those types of things you see on cute little cross stitch banners, cheap notebooks, and millennial postcards pinned to gallery walls. As before, we are trying to enjoy things that will be impossible once the baby comes. We’re booking in evenings out. We’re busy at church loving and serving people and being in community. We’re going away when we can and splashing bits of money on nice things. We’re spending time with God in the mornings, on our own and with Bounce. We got a cat. We’re eating together as a family. We’re waiting. 

False Start

A couple of months ago, we had a false start. I didn’t write about it at the time, but I wanted to put down some of my feelings about this, as it was, and still is, a big deal for me. 

Part of what happened, was, I think, a result of a misalignment between our understanding/previous experience, and the reality here with TACT. So, by way of explanation, here is a snapshot of both...

Our understanding and previous experience: 

A social worker visits you for 4 months, getting to know you, meeting you in your home, asking tons of questions. He or she looks at your home, your bank accounts, and finds out everything about you: your family, your childhood, your hopes and dreams, your route into adoption, your likes, dislikes, and hobbies. The list goes on. By the end, the SW has written a comprehensive report on you, which is used to get you through Panel. After this, you discuss your “matching criteria” (yuck to that phrase) and make sure that the SW knows what you are looking for, what you would consider, and what you are ruling out. The SW then attends family finding meetings every fortnight, where a list of children waiting is discussed, along with a list of potential adopters. Matches between the two lists are considered and agreed upon by the professionals who know the children and the adopters inside out. When you’ve been matched with a child, the SW rings you, gives you the relevant info, asks you to consider it, answers your questions, paints a picture of the child and the situation, and things progress from there if you’re interested. This is what happened with Bounce.  

Reality here with TACT:

Up until Panel, similar to above. Meetings, chats, getting-to-know yous. As you know from my musings here, we don’t really feel like either of our two social workers ever properly got to know us, but that’s still the general aim (I think) in the months up to Panel. It’s after this that things change. So, here: The SW attends family finding meetings every fortnight, as expected, and any possible children that might fall somewhere within your matching criteria, or just outside it, are then emailed to you, as a PDF attachment, for your reading and perusal. These profiles are sent to all adopters who might have a slight proclivity to be interested. Upon then receiving your permission to pursue the match (or to let it drop if it’s not for you), the SW lets the child’s SW know about your desire to be considered, and then you are put ‘into a pot’ with everyone else who’s interested. At some point in the next few weeks, a meeting will happen to whittle down the prospective adopters, and then another meeting will be held to decide between the ‘top three.’ After this, the SW then phones you to tell you if you’ve been chosen or not.

Here are my problems with TACT’s approach:

1.    It is painful. 

a.    I do not want to be sent profiles as a PDF attachment to an email. I do not want the ping on my phone or laptop to herald another heartbreaking real life "case study" of a needy and vulnerable child who barely has anything remotely in common with my matching considerations. I do not want to have to deny a chance for a loving, stable family & home to a child that’s in need.

b.    Being told you may have been matched with a child is hard. Being sent details about a baby, who looks and reads and seems to be perfect for you, is hard, when you know there is slim chance that they’ll end up with you. The exhaustion of hope building, and then being ripped down, is relentless and reminiscent of monthly periods during our long struggle to conceive. 

c.  Waiting between the initial communication about the child, and the result of the matching meeting, is difficult, stressful, and tiring. You don’t know where you’re at. There’s no way of knowing if you’ll be chosen. You want and hope and pray that you will be chosen, and that the right thing, the absolute best and right thing, is chosen for the child. You hope. You wait. You hope. You try not to hope. You wait. You distract yourself. 

2.    This pain is avoidable and unnecessary

a.    The PAR is written for a reason. You go through 4 months of meetings with the SW for a reason: so that you are known. So that you are understood, representable. Our SW should be able to attend Family Finding meetings on our behalf, and express an interest on our behalf, and attend further meetings on our behalf, and learn the news that we have or haven’t been selected, on our behalf. There is no need for us to have any involvement in this, nor any awareness that it’s even going on. 

Pain, disappointment, and waiting are part and parcel of parenting, of conceiving, of adoption – of growing a family. I get that. BUT. This approach does little, if anything, to safeguard the wellbeing of potential adopters. It renders useless the time spent getting to know, getting to be known by, the social worker. Social Workers should be empowered and allowed to make a call based their own intuition and their in-depth knowledge of the prospective adopters, and if they’re wrong, or things aren’t as straightforward as that, there should be space for that and allowances made. They should shoulder the burden of the unknown so that the potential adopters don’t have to. I’m assuming, cynically perhaps, that there must be some financial reason for this approach because I can see no other reason why things need to be done this way. 

Just to set the record straight, by the way, our Social Worker, after this false start, agreed to only get in touch as and when we have been selected as the prospective adopters. All of the discussions and meetings will go on without our knowledge, and so we'll never (hopefully) be aware again of any times when we've missed out. We feel pleased and like our thoughts matter because of this change, but also a bit uneasy - does this mean that we're weak and difficult? Apparently this is the norm, everyone else can deal with it, but we need special treatment. I don't like that. Parents, especially adoptive ones, need to be resilient and strong. If we can't cope with this process, how can we be expected to cope with the demands of parenting? Well. Sometimes I don't cope with the demands of parenting. I'm not sure anyone does, not all the time anyway. I just hope our requests for change won't be held against us; I'm assured not, but still. 

Also by way of setting the record straight, the concerns I've written about here need to be fed back to TACT. And we are completely committed to doing that, once we've had a baby placed and things are all settled down. I know it sounds cowardly, but we're not prepared to shake things up at this stage. Afterwards, we'll be able to talk reflectively rather than reflexively, which will be much more efficient and effective for everyone involved!