Saturday, Dec. 11, 2021 - 11:02 am.
Two months later than scheduled, we got the results from our psych assessment for adoption. It was not what we expected at all and it's left us devastated. We thought we'd hear we have a few quirks, but we'd be able to enter the adoption system. No. Results show we're unfit to adopt.
Andrew and I couldn't say much during the video call with the psychologist as she walked us through our results. We were stunned into silence and we focused on fighting back the tears. She said we worked together well as a couple, but individually we weren't functioning well in some aspects that were needed to look after an adoptive child. I understand, but also, I call bullshit.
Her psych assessment of me was milder. She told me everything I already knew about myself. Andrew's assessment was harsher and seemed to refer to a different person. At least I managed to tell her that: I can see the results about me, but I do not agree with Andrew's profile. He couldn't say one word during the video call, he was destroyed.
She said our best option, if we wanted to continue pursuing adoption, was to put the process on hold and get therapy. I'm all for therapy, I've always known I could benefit from it to explore my issues, and Andrew would benefit from it too, in his case mostly due to unresolved grief about his brother's death (the anniversary is on the 23rd this month).
I don't think we don't have fundamental flaws, I think those flaws are not a deterrent to adopt. Other flaws, like us not being "social" or feeling "uncertain" come from our context: we're in a pandemic, we don't have a car to go out more, we're anxious over academic precariousness. The results come from a scale that measures caring for others and from a fucking projective test, these latter things are so subjective that are both accurate and bullshit.
Also, the psychologist understood we don't have a solid social network on which to rely upon. That is bullshit (I told my boss about the results and she was so supportive and said she wanted to be our kid's grandma, that just made my heart burst).
I'm angry, actually. Angry and frustrated that two years of waiting have come to this, or rather, to nothing. Andrew and I have three options: to give up on adoption altogether (thanks a lot, system), go to therapy and start this process all over(!) in a year or so, or fight back the report. The first one is not an option, the third one sounds like a trap that will wear us down and still will land us on the second option.
Andrew and I have talked to our closest friends, together and separately, and they've been a great source of comfort. I don't know how or what I'll tell my parents, however.
I'm not embarrassed by the results nor about being sent to therapy. I am heartbroken to be once again measured by a different standard than other people (I bet the hyperreligious couple in our adoption workshop will do wonderfully), and to be prevented from both giving a child a home and making my family grow. I'm heartbroken and pissed off by these two years wasted and the many more years to come waiting and contesting and getting tested. And I'm heartbroken because this means my parents will most certainly not meet their grandchild, and they're intuitive enough to understand this, however I spin the results.
Andrew and I have yet to decide what to do. Personally, I'm leaning towards fighting the report, because what it says about Andrew in terms of his caring skills is untrue, among other things. I do realize that may be a waste of time, however. I'm just probably feeling bold because as I'm writing this, I'm thinking of all the things I should've told the psychologist to defend ourselves. But I just couldn't. We couldn't. We were devastated.
I've never experienced one, but this feels like the miscarriage of a wanted child maybe? This massive project that's already turned your life around and made your heart grow with joy and love, and suddenly there comes a sharp pain and everything is gone. It's so devastating that the possibility of a second chance to make it happen is not even a consolation at the moment.
When we hung up, Andrew and I hugged and started to cry. I've only seen him cry like this once, when he lost his brother. Then we felt we were on Drag Race, like those drag queens who thought they did it beautifully but ended up at the bottom and at risk of elimination. We even ended up sitting on our couch a la Untucked. We had a couple of good laughs at our own expense.
Well, I guess I should go search the internet, maybe I'll find some information to make an informed decision on how to go on. It all feels very raw.
On a happier note, though, Andrew and I will be going to a Christmas market today! I've been looking forward to this for weeks. I do know they'll be selling children's stuff, however, so that might be a bit sad. I was hoping by this time this year I could be fantasizing about all that cute stuff I could buy for our child, but that will not be the case. Ok, so this wasn't a happier note after all. But I love Christmas markets.