Soooo ooooolllllllddddd…

Bachelor parties are not all that, when:

1. You show up four hours late (due to a prior engagement earlier in the evening)
2. You are stone cold sober while everyone else is comfortably numb
3. Everyone except the groom is already married and it is past their bedtime

I was home by 2:00am. Not so many years ago the sun would have been up before I walked in the front door. Just another sign that I am getting old.

Wedding gift lists are always interesting. I think they offer more insight to a person than a blog does. I have a whole new respect for a man who puts a $400 cake stand on the list. I am not buying the cake stand, however.

I am going to be a daddy

It came as somthing of a surprise. For the record, the most frightening words a wife can utter in the presence of her husband are “Can you remember when I had my last period?”

Of course, the test was positive. Strangely, among my first thoughts was “Perhaps we can get Sprog’s parents to take this one too”. A large part of me thinks I have absolutely no business being someone’s daddy. People keep telling me I will be an awesome dad, but what they are basing this on seems pretty tenuous (I think they are basing it on the fact that they like me).

My brain is once again telling me that I have nothing to offer this child. Hell, I barely even have a job right now. The very idea of shopping for strollers and baby capsules makes me ill. I am not the right person for the position. Nope, really not. But then I have dreams like the one I had last night, where my child has just been born and I am holding him (or her). My hands remember that feeling. My soul will kill to have that again. It is better than any drug. I want this more than anything else in the world.

I feel so selfish. Incredibly selfish. Isn’t it supposed to be about what is best for the child? How can I possibly think I am the best thing for my son or daughter? How can I possibly think I will not fuck this up in the most hideous way?

Grr. Argh.

And now for something completely different

OK so you probably have to know Joss Whedon’s Firefly pretty well to get this. If you do not know Firefly (or at least Serenity), hang your head in shame and get thee to a video store.

Ignore the shocking spelling and the fact that they have left out my favorite character, Jayne. This had me ROFLMAO harder than if some geek had been quoting Monty Python’s Holy Grail at me.

Taken by surprise

You know that quintessential portrait of the open adoption birth parent waiting anxiously by the mailbox for promised pictures of their adored child to arrive? I used to do that. Well, not literally, because it is slightly chilly this time of year and I am more than passing fond of most of my extremities. But on the inside I would be jumping, and as I approached the mailbox that feeling would appear, the nervous anticipation… and then the bizarre feeling of rejection when there was nothing there.

We get pictures of Sprog every three months. These do not miraculously appear with the precision of a Swiss timepiece. Sometimes they are a few weeks early, sometimes a month or so late. Usually they have a good reason for being late – they wanted to include pictures from a recent vacation or someone’s birthday party. Nonetheless, somehow it instills terror in the heart when you go to the mailbox at two weeks overdue and still there is nothing there. Possible scenarios start to play in your mind. Nothing so innocent as “maybe it got lost in the mail”. Hell no. More like “maybe they all died in an avalanche”. Or the always-looming “maybe they are closing the adoption”. And never do I have the guts to call them and ask, because then they might think I distrust them and that might make them close the adoption… OK, I know, pretty screwy. I have no reason to think they would close the adoption at this point, certainly not without some communication of their intent, but somehow it is always the first insidious little thing to come to mind.

Imagine my surprise two days ago when my foray to the mailbox unexpectedly yielded an envelope of pictures. Yep, the timing is right. I had just totally forgotten to worry about whether or not they were going to appear.

Being my over-analytical self, now I have to wonder. Did the prevalence of other important matters cause it to slip my mind? Am I getting old and losing it? Or am I getting over my fear and trust issues? I would like it to be the latter, but I think I may just have to admit that I am getting old.

Songbirds

I like choirs. I enjoy the depth of sound that only comes from a host of voices working in harmony. That is what I think of when I think about all the amazing people who speak out in favor of adoption reform – all those glorious voices harmonizing to create something special.

Every now and then, a harsh voice will chime in and attempt to sing counterpoint. This happened on Paragraphein recently. A sadly misdirected comment left by someone who had evidently recently been through a traumatic experience in losing a placement. The commenter accused N and her readers of being narrow minded and immature, of casting adoptive parents as vultures. Which is interesting, considering how many adoptive parents are posting their support there, and likewise advocating for reform in the adoption industry. In fact, N and most of the people she links to are the last people you see putting other people down to further their own agenda. N has always been very clear that the problem is with the adoption industry, and adoptive parents and adoptees are just as used by it as biological parents. This is one area of common ground for all who have been (I hesitate to use this cliche, sounds kind of creepy, but what the hell) touched by adoption.

Sprog’s parents are not vultures. I admit I have said my share of uncharitable things about them, and we have had our share of misunderstandings resulting in hurt feelings. That is how relationships work. But the bottom line is they are good people, great people. Anyone who is willing to still speak to me after all I have put them through is worthy of some kind of heroic honor.

In truth, we did ask them to take Sprog. They were not even wanting to grow their family at that time. But we asked, and they agreed. I cannot help but wonder at what their reaction might have been if we had revoked after 10 days, after making them travel clear across the country to pick up our son, after they had held him and loved him as I had.

I hope N’s commenter is able to come to terms with the reality of what happened. That the child’s mother did not set out to hurt anyone’s feelings or ruin anyone’s life, she was just a woman in a difficult situation trying to do what was best for her family. That when she first held her child, she would have had the same love and bonding happening as the commenter when she held that same child. That letting that child go was just as hard for her as it was for the commenter, and how could you possibly wish that kind of pain on the mother of your child? I hope she gets it.