So. I haven't blogged about the adoption in a while. Mostly because there wasn't a whole lot of progress to report. (I also forgot basic punctuation and grammar rules, apparently).
JR has been so overwhelmingly busy, and traveling so much for work that it has been virtually impossible to coordinate efforts like going for physicals and drug screens (which we've done), heading out to be fingerprinted and criminal background-checked (which we haven't done), and most importantly to immediate progress, finishing our self-studies. The self-study portion of a homestudy is where you essentially write your autobiography and then answer a bunch of invasive questions about yourself, your relationships and your parenting in the present and future. It is Not Fun. Mine has been done for weeks, but JR has been having a difficult time not only with writing it, but finding the time for it. When something so important hinges on your words, you want to get them just right and that's hard to do late at night after a long day of dealing with vendors and employees and business partners and travel. He finally finished it up over the weekend, and I promptly emailed it to the social worker so that we could arrange our second visit with her.
I'm trying to set up this second visit this week, because next week JR heads out on another trip and my heart just really can't take another multi-week delay. We'll see. I have to keep reminding myself that although she is our only social worker, we are by no means her only clients. Sigh.
I was filling out the requisite financial forms before bed last night (never a good idea) and proceeded to sleep fitfully, even getting up at midnight to see if the social worker had responded to my emails requesting an appointment time this week. She hadn't.
Just before the alarm (also known as my child) started going off this morning, I was trapped in a troubling dream:
JR and I had gotten The Phone Call. A birthmother had chosen us to parent her newborn daughter and we needed to get to her right away. The baby was in an Inuit village on a tiny island off the coast of Alaska and the only way to reach it because of the ice flows was by plane. We were waiting in an airplane terminal (not unlike the one in Wings) and a man who lived on the island and was going to be on our flight walked up and asked why were were traveling there. We told him that we were going to meet our new daughter and then bring her home.
He walked away with tears in his eyes and pulled out his cell phone. He made a call and I heard him say, "It's today. They're taking her today." Somehow I knew that he was talking to the birthfather.
The next thing I knew we were on a tiny plane that could accommodate 6 passengers, and all of the seats were full. No one would meet my eyes. We took off over very rough ice cloaked seas and our tiny aircraft was being buffeted by strong winds and I was trying not to vomit. Fog swirled in and I could no longer see. The turbulence got worse and worse and it felt like we were hurtling towards something horrible when a small voice called, "Daddy? Mommy? Good morning Mommy!"
Yeah. Anyone care to take a guess as to what all of that was about?