Even though we are still in the middle of my fingerprint fiasco and haven't even been approved by the state yet, I had my first emotional "thing" related to the adoption over the weekend. It wasn't a big deal, not even something that made me emotional to the point of tears or a feeling that I would label as true sadness, just lots of "what ifs" that lingered around me for a couple of days and would invade my quiet moments.
The way that our agency works is that they have this email system where they send out the general information (no names or anything that would betray any confidentiality) of new expectant moms that decide to go through them for placement. If you want your profile shown to her, you call and tell your social worker, and if you are a match for what she is wanting, you get shown. Even though we aren't officially signed with our agency yet (have to have our homestudy approved by the state, first), we have already been added to this email list.
I don't know why I even open those emails. Maybe it is curiosity. Maybe I am trying to get an idea for what kinds of cases our agency tends to get. But, one came through on Saturday that made me so angry at this situation: angry that we would have already been approved by the state if my fingerprints hadn't gotten screwed up, angry for all of the delays we have had trying to get the fingerprint screw-up sorted out, angry at all of the people who I have talked to who gave me wrong information about how to fix this. The situation was an exact perfect match for the type of placement we were hoping for. Every last detail. That baby will even have a similar ethnic background to me, based on her parents' profiles. And, we were an exact match for the type of family the expectant mom said she was looking for, even a couple of pretty specific details that she said she would prefer, although they weren't deal-breakers.
Obviously it wasn't the situation that was meant to be, or it would have been. And it isn't even like we ever had a chance, since we aren't eligible to be shown, anyway. But for some reason the "what ifs" wouldn't go away. What if those stupid fingerprints hadn't gotten screwed up and we had our state approval? What if we had been shown to her? What if she would have picked us? What if it really was that quick, that within just a couple of months after starting this whole process we got matched in a placement that looked like such a perfect fit for everyone involved.
It all seems so inconsequential when I actually see it on the page and outside of my head. I'm happy for whatever family she chose (while being sad for her that she has found herself in this place, to begin with), and I hope that they develop a wonderful, healthy relationship. We will keep muddling through all of our legal pre-work, and soon I will actually have a reason for reading those emails.
No comments:
Post a Comment