Saturday, Dec. 30, 2023 - 06:06 pm.
As of yesterday, we are expecting a child.
A child who might come within weeks, months or even years. Nevertheless, the adoption unit has finally entered us in the national database of adoptive families. We just have to update our photographs, sign a few forms, and attend one last workshop.
Once we match the family profile required for a kid, we'll be contacted with info about them to confirm we want to be considered for the adoption process. If the judge chooses us (from a set of families with a specific profile), we'll spend about a month visiting the kid whenever they live to bond and connect. Then they come home with us. It probably won't be a clear-cut process as it sounds, but that's the gist of it.
We had a meeting yesterday to get the feedback from our re-evaluation, at last. Part of the assessment we heard of Andrew and myself still felt off, but hey, we passed and we're considered fit to be parents. It was excruciating, though, listening to someone from the government describing the qualities and flaws they perceived in you like reading you a sentence, judging you to decide whether you are good enough to care for a tiny human being. In the middle of the reading of our re-assessment I wanted to get out of there, to just walk out of the room and of the whole adoption process.
I understand the thoroughness. It's not only a tiny human being, it's one that's been abused or neglected perhaps literally their whole life. I understand you need to make sure you choose people who can deal with this. But also: it's been four years for Andrew and I to get to this moment. We were destroyed with the first assessment a couple of years ago, especially with the absolutely horrific misreading of Andrew as someone unable to care for anyone. I wanted to burn everything around me when the useless psychologist said that. On top of that, there was no need for this process to be so long (in all fairness, the adoption unit is sorely understaff, and then you understand how much people in politics care about children).
I sobbed a little bit when the social worker from the adoption unit said we had been positively assessed, and that as of that moment we were in the database. Then I held the crying in and just kept holding Andrew's hand as the meeting continued. I thought I was gonna cry in the car. I wanted to get home and just cry uncontrollably, like waterfalls or like a storm.
Alas, I didn't. There was a coffee shop in the first floor of the building where the adoption unit is located. We just went there after the meeting and threw ourselves on a couch in disbelief. I swallowed all knots-in-throat and tears, and instead we sat stunned. In silence. Frightened.
We came home and Andrew got back to work, as did I. We had this week off from work, but we still had stuff to do. Then our friend L, one our closest friends, came over quickly to pick something up; we told her and she cried. Then we met with another couple (friends of Andrew since before I came to this country) and their 5-year-old boy to show them our new apartment and go to the pub half a block away. We told them and they were really happy for us. Their kid is very intense and can be crude sometimes, but I was able to handle him nicely (plus he's at an age in which he can reason somehow), so maybe I can do OK as a mother.
We haven't told a lot of people yet, actually. We're trying to digest everything and then we'll let people know. You'd think four years would've been enough for us to work through what an adoption means, but it hadn't been a reality until yesterday.
I haven't seen Andrew what you'd call "happy" about the news. He got scared, mostly. But being scared of something isn't the same as not wanting it. I see a lot of my own feelings about this process in him. I get excited about raising a child, and getting them cute and awesome stuff, and learning with them, enjoying things with them. But it'll be emotionally challenging (and yeah, ok, he does less well on the emotion department than I do), and we're scared of losing the relationship we have as a couple. We probably will, at least for a while. But we're to remain a team.
I also got concerned about my career in academia. I was finally advancing it this year, and next year is shaping up to be the one in which I settle a reputation, a niche, a trajectory. And then I think: fuck all that. It's a job. I enjoy it, yes, the tasks and the rewards. And people will talk, what a shame that I threw everything away by going on maternity leave (which lasts months, but can set you back years). But fuck that. I want time to live.
And speaking of which, boy have I enjoyed this week. I partake in the collective perception that the week between Christmas and New Year lasts a month or whatever, but I needed this. I'm sorry I missed meeting up with my parents and siblings, but it's been so good to take it easy for once in a long time. Andrew and I are finally enjoying our apartment, slowing down after a hectic semester, and catching up with friends. We had a lovely Christmas' Eve dinner on our own, and then we've had people over every day of the week, except for today. Now we get the feeling we overbooked ourselves, but I also think it was OK that we got to catch up with friends and show them this place of our own and that we're proud of.
We're having some friends over for New Year's Eve. We regretted it this morning when plans and menus were being changed, but we took advantage of our position as hosts and settled some discussions. We love our friends, but we said it'll be just us next New Year's Eve to avoid dealing with people and their multiple requests.
I have to add that today we took our cats, a black one and a tabby, to the vet. We hadn't taken them this year, which I know is shameful. We do get a bit confident on the good daily care they get from us and the fact that they've always been indoor cats, but it was time. They've lost some weight, too, particularly the tabby one, and his hind legs seem to be aging fast; it was most likely stress with us moving and them now being home alone for longer during the day. We got blood tests and they turned out mostly OK, save for some hepatic condition in both of them that can be treated. The rest is just them being cats who are almost 13 years old.
But what I wanted to say about this is that I had to grab the tabby (who's "mine") to get his blood drawn, and he freaked out and bit me a couple of times. He'd never ever ever bitten me. But even as he was out of his mind in pain and fear, he didn't hurt me. You check my hand now and there are no bite marks. It just amazed me how he still managed to control himself that way. I love my cats so much. We'll do our best so that they feel at ease when the new human arrives.
This is how I end 2023: in a home of our own, with the possibility of adopting our son/daughter/future nonbinary child next year. It's only(!) taken four years to get to this, and to get a stable contract in uni, which we need to fight to keep as capitalism is making people's lives crumble around us. I have fresh ideas for my writing and comics for the new year too; it's difficult to follow through given my limited time and energy, but I'll get there. Also, the people I love and care about are doing well overall.
I have a lot to be grateful for, and a lot that I'll need to fight for once the celebrations pass. Wish me luck. I wish you the best for 2024.
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