The Breakup

This morning I picked my phone up off my desk at work and saw that I had a missed call and voicemail from the social worker at the agency.  Normally that would make my pulse speed up, but for some reason I was completely calm as I listened to the message and called her back.  I guess I already knew what she had to tell me.  The couple we have been speaking with have decided to parent instead of placing their baby for adoption.

I felt nothing.  I think I knew this was going to happen all along.  And though I would have been head over heals excited to adopt their baby, I think they made the right choice given their situation.  I’m not mad at them for stringing us along these past few months, this is the process they had to go through to reach their decision.  I am excited for them, and hope they are happy.

So here I sit, back at square one, exactly where we were months ago.  I haven’t gone into the little grey room, that will only make me dream about who is meant to live there.  It was nice to feel like we were making progress towards finding who that is going to be.  But here we are, a few days shy of 9 months into our wait, and we are no closer to finding our baby.  I may not be mad, but I’m disappointed and sad.  So I’ll pour a glass of wine, binge on greasy Chinese food, and console myself with some online retail therapy.

This news brings closure, but it also takes away a small glimmer of hope.  The thing about the adoption wait, though, is that despite how long and grueling it may be, it can change in an instant.  My phone could ring again next week, and we could be parents by the end of the month.  So I’ll hold on to possibilities, and we’ll move on.