For some reason I’ve had it in my head that we’ll have a baby by the end of 2015. For some reason I’ve been convinced that we will have a Christmas baby.
I’ve had it in my mind when we started our adoption process at the end of 2014, that we’d be matched by the end of 2015. Heck, we are paying huge money in part to speed up the process by going to the USA. I was optimistically hoping that paperwork, home study, international approvals, match, placement, everything could happen for us within 1 year.
I realize, in the international adoption world, my ambitious time-frame is very rare. But for some reason, I have been secretly hoping that it would all work out for us.
But, I have to be honest and realistic.
2016 is fast approaching with no signs of a match.
I’m starting realize just how unlikely it is that we will be parents in 2015. Because we are international it’s almost impossible for us to get an instant match, meaning a match with a baby the day it’s born. So, even assuming we do not experience a failed adoption, considering today is November 10 the timelines are just becoming too tight. There are only 52 days left before we start 2016. So, it’s almost impossible for us to have a match happen, medical reviews conducted and a baby born in the time left in 2015. The thing about an international open adoption is that the match process takes a lot more time then a domestic match. There is nothing fast about it, and I have to be realistic about that.
Which means I also have to realistic about 2015 likely not being our year. And I need to brace myself for another missed year.
And you know what? I’m sad and I’m frustrated.
I am truly frustrated that we haven’t been matched. I know, we’ve technically only been officially waiting for less then 6 months, but it still sucks. Waiting for something you want more then anything in the world and have absolutely no control over is my personal version of hell. To make matters worse, I’ve started to realize the longer I wait, the more fears creep back into my mind. Fears I thought I had addressed and become okay with, but when they have time to stir about in my mind, I’ve discovered they can resurface. What if we get a horrible birth family? What if we end up with a child whose health is compromised due to poor birth mother choices, how will I ever forgive the birth mother? Will I ever just be mom, or will I always be adoptive mom? Will our families truly accept our child? Did we pick the right things when we stated our acceptable exposure to drugs and alcohol? I feel horrible admitting it, but honestly, I have even wondered if this will be the right decision in the long run. Doubt sucks! Extra time to obsess about doubt really sucks!
Asides from my jokes about wanting a winter baby from Hawaii or California, I have not seriously articulated and admitted my secrete hope of a Christmas baby to anyone out of fear that I’d say it and it would never happen. As if somehow me hoping would jinx it from happening (irrational and impossible, I know but that’s not the point). I have been fearful that by admitting this hope, I’d open myself up just to be crushed. And yet, here I am realizing that my secrete hope was useless and just a repeat of every other year in our attempt to have child(ren). I remember once thinking we’d have our baby in 2013. Then I thought 2014. Now I’m watching 2015 fade away.
I’m scared to hope for 2016. What if we get into 2016 and end up with a failed match? What if we lose an entire year for some unknown, unpredictable reason? If recurrent pregnancy loss has taught me anything it’s made it very clear that I’m not in the driver’s seat. That I have no control. That whatever I don’t expect to happen, will happen.
So, I’m just scared to hope.
And I’m even more afraid to not hope.
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Today, I am dedicating my happy moment from the week to a story about my chair.
For the last year I’ve been using Mr. MPB’s old office chair. The one he hated so much that he bought a new one. When I wasn’t working full time there was no way I was willing to buy one, so I claimed his old one as mine because we already owned it and I didn’t have one. (I could have purchased a new one if I had been willing, but I am frugal and figured this would be good enough and I could make it work).
Well, I can’t make it work. My back has been killing me. For the last few months I’ve been stealing Mr. MPB’s chair whenever he’s out of the office. Some mornings I even woke up early so that I could get downstairs to steal the one good chair before he woke up. Some would say it was an ongoing funny chair dance. Others (Mr. MPB) may say it was just annoying.
So, even though my chair looks nice enough, we decided it was time to get rid of the heap of junk that we both despise.
So, I started searching out a new chair. And like normal, I started researching and price checking, obsessively.
I thought about buying used, as I often do. But, since I’m getting rid of a used chair and the selection of used chairs on CraigsList was deplorable, I decided this chair needed to be a new chair.
I found a few I liked for a price I simply wasn’t willing to spend. Seriously, good office chairs apparently cost more then our living room couch did (we bough our living room couch second hand for an amazing price, but still). I just cannot justify $500 + on an office chair.
So, I searched and searched and searched some more. I needed to find a new chair that was good enough to meet my standards. I tried amazon.ca but quickly realized I needed to sit in the chair to make a wise decision. I tried every single chair at Staples and Ikea and was less then impressed. Yes, I even went into Ikea with the sole purpose of trying out office chairs. I eventually turned to furniture stores, hoping to find a decent office chair.
And I found one.
For the price of $229.00. I am desperately hoping it’s the right combination of quality and affordability.
And so, a few weeks ago I took the plunge and ordered it as it was on back order. And I have been patiently waiting for it to arrive.
It finally arrived.
I booked my pick-up time (the store is annoyingly pretentious and insane about pick-up procedures).
They loaded it in my car and I managed to awkwardly carry the cardboard into our house without too much trouble.
As soon as I got inside, I got started building.
I cracked open the box.
I took every item out of the box, one by one.
I ensured all the parts were present and accounted for.
I swore at the little allen key that was supplied.
I built the chair.
Mr. MPB re-tightened all the screws.
I tested out my new chair.
I fell in love! My back is singing a happy song. Even my butt is happier!
And now I’m afraid this new chair might become the one we fight over.
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My Perfect Breakdown 