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Waiting 2.0

This is the second time in my life I am waiting for my child to find their way to me.

As of last Thursday our homestudy has been approved! Big news in our house! So we begin the wait for a profile opportunity.

Here’s how it works. A bare bones step by step guide for what a profile opportunity means:

An expectant mother decides to make an adoption plan.

She shares what she is looking for in the family who will raise her child as their own.

If we fit the bill, our social worker reaches out and tells us about the profile opportunity.

If we agree to the opportunity, the expectant mother will be presented with our profile (and other profiles as well). A profile is a glorified scrapbook all about our life. From looking at profiles (and perhaps asking specific questions about us), she will decide who she would like to parent her child. An expectant mother can take all the time she needs to make a decision.

This was brutal for me the first time around, waiting to hear if we had been chosen by an expectant mother.

At this moment, I’m okay with the waiting.

Maybe because I’ve done this part. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe my love and my brain are wrapped up in R. Maybe it’s because I’ve weathered this season of waiting before. Maybe I know that when the phone call does come, it will mean the end of us as three.

Maybe it also has something to do with Max….

I remember the first time we met Max and his parents. It was at the first picnic our adoption agency hosted in Central Park that we attended. R was only 9ish weeks old. But, it was important to go, to be surrounded by members of the adoption community. We walked in and there was another couple; a petite woman with a warm and welcoming smile, and her husband, who was about a foot taller than she was, in his Yankees cap. They were holding an adorable baby boy who looked to be about R’s age. We got to talking, and sure enough, baby Max was born at the end of January. The boys were separated in age by only 6 weeks. I remember thinking that Max’s parents, Christine and Tim, were like some bizarro version of E and I (and not because they were bizarre- quite the opposite, because they seemed so similar to us). As we chatted in our haze of having newly become parents, the easy conversation that happens between families who have adopted percolated to the surface: “Where was he born? “Was it a direct placement?” “What law firm did you use?” “When were you matched with his birth mom?” “Were you at the hospital for his birth?”

As we kept speaking, and I hastily did the math in my head as to when they got matched with Max’s birth mom, the details sounded quite familiar. And then, Christine casually mentioned Max’s birth mother’s name, which was Susan. and I realized that Susan had also looked at our profile book.

Susan had been deciding between us and Max’s parents for who should parent the child she was carrying.

I realized standing there holding my son and looking at Christine’s son, that, well, Christine’s son was almost my son.

I looked at Max intently. And what I saw so clearly was how he was -in mind, body, and spirit, Christine’s boy, and I was holding my boy.

This was not a question. This was something that could not be debated. This was an indisputable fact. Max was Christine’s son. R was my son. As if they had been born to each of us.

And now, as we wait for our second child, I have found peace in the waiting.

No matter how much I pleaded with God and with the universe to speed the process up when we were waiting the first time, it was only going to happen when it made perfect sense for us and for our child.

With each profile opportunity I WISHED on stars, I BEGGED and PLEADED with God that it would be THE one. I DEMANDED the universe to make it so.

I remember doing all of these things as we waited to hear if Susan had chosen us.

Holding on tight does not make good things happen.

And then she didn’t choose us. So I did what I was getting very skilled at; I rearranged my thoughts and emotions around motherhood, I packed them away until next time. I retreated inward.

And then the next time, the call after Susan, just happened to be THE phone call….and we all know how that worked out :) Enter….the one, the only….R.

My faith in this process is all in. I wait with a bit more patience this time. There is more open space and peace around my heart. My child will find their way to me just as Max found his way to his mama and papa.

This past weekend we celebrated Max’s 3rd birthday with him and his family in Queens. It was a great party- pizza, cake, juice boxes.

The icing on the cake? Seeing the gorgeous look on Christine’s face as she sang Happy Birthday to her son. Moms and their boys, it’s pretty spectacular. It’s an honor to be a member of that club.

and so. We wait. Xx


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