death, taxes, and rainy weekends in the Burgh

One thing any Pittsburgher knows is this: the weather is unpredictable.  We had 85 degree days back in March, and now that we're nearing May, the forecast for tomorrow shows a high of 48 and rainy.  We've been planning for months to have a multi-family yard sale tomorrow and I was really looking forward to having some of my body butter and salt scrubs for sale, with Mother's Day coming up and all.  Now, I'm suspecting it's going to be a bust because of the weather.  At least we get to see some out-of-town family who are coming in to help out, so it's not a total loss. 

The lousy weather does force my hand on another issue I'd back-burnered due to sunny weather, though: the baby blanket I'd been cross stitching.  Back in July when we started our home study, I started cross stitching again, for the first time in years.  My grandma loved to cross stitch, and taught me how to do it when I was a little girl.  She passed away about 8 months before we started our adoption journey, and I knew that if she had been alive and healthy, she would have done something like this for us, to commemorate our experience.  So I picked it back up as a sort of tribute to her, as well as a way to pass the time while we waited.  

I found an old pattern book of baby animals that I just loved, and began stitching the squares, with the intent to quilt them all together in the end, patchwork-style.  I had finished 5 of them by early March, when we found out the second matching call had gone to another family.  And all of a sudden, I lost my momentum.  I blamed it on the pretty weather, and the sad state of our yard, and wanting to garden, or run and enjoy the sunshine on my lunch breaks instead of sitting at my desk doing needlework.  I blamed it on not having the perfect pattern for the last and final square (I badly want a giraffe, but the artist didn't make that design). 

The truth is, I just needed a break.  When you're waiting, the phone is your lifeline even when you haven't had a potential matching call.  But when you know your profile is in a birthparent's hands, the stress is infinitely more intense.  The agency has Doug as their primary contact, so each time he called while we were waiting over that month-long period, for first one, then the other set of birthparents to make their decisions, my heart would stop.  It was especially stressful because both were newborn placements, not expectant matches, so we had to tell our employers there was a chance we would be taking emergency leave.  I'm the only person at my company who performs my job, so I also had to train a co-worker, just in case.  Because of that, several of our co-workers knew our dream was a phone call away, so our not being chosen was obvious.  It would have been nice to nurse the rejection discreetly, but we didn't have the luxury of putting space between our personal and professional lives. 

But today, I'm bringing my cross stitch bag out of the closet where it's been hidden away.  I'm creating a giraffe pattern from a drawing, and finally committing to finish this project.  I shouldn't hide the symbol of my hope away in the dark.

ready, set...

Waiting to be matched for an adoption is not the easiest thing we've ever done.  Doug and I are both only children, and as a function of that, we're pretty used to getting our way, at least to some small degree.  In this, not so much.  You wait.  Open adoption is kind of unique because we really have no idea when we'll be chosen.  It's not like we're in a line of people, and we can see our progress as those ahead of us are matched.   Instead, one day, a birthmom (or a set of birthparents) is going to approach the agency, look at all the available profiles, and select ours.  That's intimidating.  It has to be a good fit, and you have to convey that with just a little two-page letter.

I've found that most people are in one of two camps: either you know absolutely nothing about adoption, or you have an adoption story of your own to tell, whether family or friend.  Just last night, we were chatting with a couple whose craigslist posting we answered, and the woman's brother and his wife are also waiting to be matched.  There isn't that nasty stigma about adoption anymore (thank you Modern Family!), and people talk about it openly. 

We chose open adoption for a couple reasons.  One is that we are only children.  We may only be able to adopt one child, and since there won't be any cousins, or aunts and uncles, or possibly even siblings, the idea of our child feeling like part of a bigger family is kind of appealing.  But the bigger reason is because we felt it was healthier for everyone involved.  We aren't going to pretend that this child came from us.  He or she will have ties to someone else, and questions, and we feel like our child deserves to know the background.  We can't pretend the people who give us the gift of being parents don't exist.  So whether the parents only want a letter and some photos once a year, or a face to face visit once or twice per year, we're ready and willing to make that happen.

Open adoption is kind of a new concept.  It used to be that the adoptive parents just pretended the baby was theirs, biologically, and hid any information they had about the birthparents, until they felt the child was ready to process that info, if ever.  So you've got a kid who's probably a teenager, full of normal hormones and "I hate my parents" feelings already, finding out his parents have either been lying to him or hiding information his entire life, for his own good.  And when is a good time to drop that kind of bombshell?  "Can you pass the peas, and by the way, you're not who you think you are?"  No thanks.  That's not for us.  It's really hard to backpeddle a lie or half-truth, and the longer that goes by, the less it seems like the right time.  And if our child has questions, who better to ask than the people with the answers?  Any answers we could give would only be our perceptions.

Since we're all about open adoption, we decided on domestic, and more specifically local, so the birthparents can actually have contact if they choose.  So our wait might be longer than someone who opts for domestic closed, or international adoption, but so be it.  

We had two calls in mid February, both for newborn immediate placements.  Apparently that never happens.  Before the first one, we'd been very casually prepping the nursery, painting a mural, buying things as we saw great deals. After that first call, I felt so unprepared!  Like, here we sit, thinking about being parents every day, and we don't even have a car seat!  And we could have a baby tomorrow!  So when we found out the next day that the mother had chosen a family friend, I went out anyway, and bought everything we needed to finish up the nursery.  Then, the next call came the following week, same scenario.  That one also fell through, but at least we didn't feel panicked anymore! 

So here we sit, thinking about being parents every day, and here's the room where our little one will sleep.  In the late afternoon, it lights up with the warmest, prettiest glow, all full of sunshine.  Now, we're ready.

let's get this party started

I should start this blog off by introducing us.  Doug and I are waiting to be adoptive parents.  There's a lot more to us, obviously, but our decision to adopt is such a life-altering, defining event in our lives, and it's the key to why I started this site, so it's the jumping off point.  So without further ado:

How We Got Here (The Stream of Consciousness Version)
When I was sixteen, I told my mom I was going to adopt one day.  Fast forward a decade, and I'm on a first date.  I slip on a wet tile and break my wrist.  I end up in physical therapy, where I run into a guy I knew in high school.  I go to a party at his house, and reunite with Kelly, one of my closest friends from high school.  Three months later, she talks me into blowing off our plans for the night to attend a party for one of her brother's friends.  We get there, and some guy's all over me.  I'm not interested.  Kelly introduces me to one of her brother's friends: "Erin, this is Doug.  He's a nice boy."  I tell Doug he's my boyfriend for the evening.  He agrees.  We talk all night.  We find out we're both nerds.  He offers to fly me to DC for a weekend.  He says he's kind of like a bounty hunter for the Marine Corps, so he flies everywhere.  I think he's lying.  I laugh and agree to visit.  He says he's glad he came.  Tonight was the Marine Corps Birthday Ball in DC and he originally planned to be there instead.

He calls the next day.  We meet up for a drink that night.  It's Awkward.  We both decide to give it one more chance.  A month later, I'm on a first-class flight to DC.  We're a couple.  He really is a bounty hunter for the Marines.  

Seven months later, he botches a marriage proposal.  I say yes anyway and we laugh.  In April of 2009, we get married, and I move to DC.  We're living in the same state for the first time in our relationship.  In November, we start trying to have a baby.  He decides he wants to be a civilian.  In June, we move back to Pittsburgh.  My grandma's old house is vacant.  We move in and remodel it.  It's Torture.  Still no baby.   I have a feeling it isn't in the cards.  I start making doctor appointments.  In December, I cry while I ask Doug if he's ok with adopting.  He says "yes, of course," no hesitation.  "Why are you crying, did you think I'd say no?"  We tell our parents on Christmas. 

We start researching.  We find out how expensive adoption is.  We mortgage our house.  We find a reputable agency and sign up for an orientation.  The doctor tells me we can choose to pursure fertility treatment, but will probably never conceive.  Two days later, we attend the adoption orientation.  Four months later, on my thirty-first birthday, we receive approval on our home study and become eligible to adopt.  We begin waiting....

I think our story is pretty special.  Neither of us had met prior to that night, even though we were in the same social circles for years.  Neither of us was supposed to be at that party.  I hadn't spoken to my friend Kelly in years before we were reunited, and she moved out of state just a couple months after she introduced us.  You can call that being at the right place at the right time, but I believe God called me to adopt, and then found me someone special, hundreds of miles away, to share my dream.  Sometimes God's hand doesn't gently lead where He wants you to go.  Sometimes He pushes, and you fall and break your wrist. 

Or maybe that's just me.