Since then, three other “maybe babies” have come and gone. Not too surprisingly, it is progressively easier to deal with each one as they come along.
Dear Sienna Elyse,
On Friday, October 11, 2013, I got a call from
the agency. They said they had a birthmother who was due November 1, but was
likely going into labor any day (she was already 3 centimeters dilated!!). They
were going to show her my profile the following Monday, and if she agreed to
it, they’d set me up with an interview for Wednesday. Basically, by Tuesday,
they would be able to let me know if I was in the running to adopt this baby
that was due any day. When they asked me what questions I had, I didn’t have any.
I didn’t want to know if it was a girl or a boy, I didn’t want to know anything, really, until I
knew if there was even a chance that it was you.
That weekend was grueling. Few days in my life
have been as much of a roller coaster ride as those three days that I waited to
hear from the agency. I knew it was a long shot to be picked. If they had the
option of a two-parent household to take their child, it’s extremely likely
they would go with that option instead of me. So, the first thing I told myself
was, “This is not my baby, I will not get my hopes up!” But, of course, the
fiendishly hopeful little elf that lives in my head (or maybe my heart?), kept
saying “maybe” and “what if?” Every time I told myself this would not happen
and I should not go out and buy bottles, onesies and a Halloween outfit, the
stupid little elf popped up and said “Well…you never know…” and there went my
heart. Seeing a “My First Thanksgiving” bib brought me to tears in the middle
of a store. I couldn’t even tell you why.
Tuesday came and all day I waited for the call
from the agency. It was nearly 5PM when I sent an email to a friend and told
her that clearly I had not been chosen to adopt this baby, because if I hadn’t
heard from them by then, I wasn’t going to. Fifteen minutes after I sent that
email, the phone rang and up popped the agency’s number. Of course, I was on
the phone with a client who I couldn’t hang up with. I had to watch as the
agency’s number rang four times before going away and then the message light
appeared. When I finally got off the phone with the client, I didn’t breathe at
all as I dialed the numbers to check the message. It said that the birthmother
had seen my profile and “was very impressed.” Apparently, when she saw my
profile on Monday, she had been particularly fond of the cultures I’ve come
across and experiences I’ve had, countries I’ve lived in, etc. That said, she
had not called the agency to let them know if she wanted to meet with me. They
were still waiting.
Again, insufferable waiting…
By Wednesday, mid-day, I was ready to puke when
the agency finally called again. No breathing, heart stopped, world came to a
halt, etc. etc. etc. The agency told me that the birthmother had picked the other family
and they were very sorry about that, but my profile was a good one because the
birthmother had liked it a lot. They didn’t say “it was good, just not good
enough,” but that was basically all I heard. I didn’t cry, I think I laughed
when I said, “well, it was a long shot anyway” and then thanked the agency for
shoving a knife in my stomach and told them to have a great day.
I never asked for more information, I don’t even
know if it was a girl. The rest of that week had some crazy days involving
things that had nothing to do with you or the baby that wasn’t you. That
weekend, I was fine as well. But one evening the following week, I was getting
ready for bed and suddenly I had tears in my eyes that it wasn’t you, that I
wasn’t buying booties and onesies and other items that end in “ies”. It just
wasn’t fair that most women can randomly get pregnant and have as many children
as they want before turning 30. And here I was, having tried to date the right
way, the wrong way, and every other way in between. Not only was I not married,
but my attempt to adopt had just failed! I was about to turn 32 and I had no
husband, no baby, no family near me. I cut out the things in my life that
didn’t fit with being your mother. I stopped dating so that I could focus on
you, I let go of friends who were costing me money and time I needed for you, I
was paying a lot more for a better house and car and working hard on my career
so that I could raise you right. All that sacrifice, all that work, and as
simple as that, someone looked at my profile and found me unworthy. There was a
nasty little pain in my chest and I thought I was going to start sobbing. But I
didn’t. I made myself stop the self-pity party and went to bed without any
hysterics, just a couple tears. But it has still taken me a long while before I
could write you this letter. That little pain in my chest hasn’t gone away yet.
That feeling of “it’s not fair” is hard to push away.
