Saturday, Apr. 06, 2024 - 3:39 pm.
Life could have radically changed for us on Tuesday. That would have been the day a baby boy, our son, came into our lives. But the social worker from the adoption unit called us instead to tell us that the judge granted the adoption to another family.
Andrew and I grieved. A lot. Specially Andrew, who looked like he'd lost a piece of his soul for a couple of days. You could tell in his glassy eyes that he was in pain. I felt empty, a sort of emptiness made up of yearning and which hurt a lot. That's just sadness, probably. We had a major sense of loss. It comes back to us from time to time. We just want it to be our turn already.
On that same phone call, we were told there might another possibility for us. The social worker asked us if we wanted to be considered for it, or if we'd like to take some time and recover. We said count us in. We haven't been called yet, we don't know when we will.
Silver lining: nothing was lost, really. We just continue to wait. We'll make some more changes to our apartment while we wait. I can resume some plans at work, and dive into a bunch of interesting projects. It would have been great to have a child to raise, but this is fine too.
Also, our trip to see my family in May is still on, which is wonderful. Perhaps this is one of the reasons that make me feel at peace with not being the chosen family for that baby: I'll get to see my parents again.
And that is all I can say about our adoption process for now.
*
This week, a janitor I know in uni was caught recording a female student in the restrooms. This janitor appeared to be nice and helpful, Andrew and I even hired him in February so he could come with me to a car-related errand, as I wasn't very knowledgeable on the errand (or cars for that matter) and Andrew was recovering from his eye surgery. We shared space and conversation for hours. I trusted this guy.
But I'm not surprised, I'm just pissed off and dissapointed. I'm not surprised because this is how abuse works, this is how abusers operate. He just showed his best side when people were looking, and zeroed in on a victim when they weren't. I got nauseous and I deleted his phone and chats from that errand and other uni-related coordination from my phone.
Thankfully the student went to the cops... I mean, ACAB, but it's what we have and at least there's a legal framework that actually worked this time and the guy was caught. He was on the news and all, and now uni authorities are trying to do damage control.
All gender and anti-harassment protocols worked, yes, but mostly because he's a janitor. I know about other academics who are abusers, uni authorities know they're abusers, and they're just left there to run units and departments as they please. No victim of theirs is in a position to raise their voice nor go the cops. So while I'm so glad that there was an acknowledgement of the student's ordeal and I'm hopeful that justice might be served (and who knows how many more were his victims?!), there's a big class component at work here.
But let's not get all academical. I just wanted to get that off my chest.
*
I'm working on a Saturday. Big things, really. One, I'm a peer evaluator for national higher education accreditation processes and I'm assessing a master's program. It's a huge-ass load of work but they pay well and I'm learning some shit. Two, the Ministry of Health asked a bunch of people, including meeeee, to review their upcoming national health policy on trans and gender-diverse health. It turns out I know a thing or two about this subject. That is, I also know some shit.
Nevertheless, all that's still work. What I'd like to do the most in life is draw silly comics, and I shall do that this weekend too.
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