I nervously opened the front cover of this year’s yearbook this afternoon, listening to the cracking sound of the binding opening for the first time and smelling that new yearbook smell. This is one of the hardest days of the year for a yearbook adviser. The truth about our labor arrived packed in 14 boxes, on 642 pounds of paper and ink.

Normally, the first feeling I feel is disappointment. Maybe we didn’t leave enough space around the margins or flubbed the body copy size. Maybe there’s a typo on page 1. Maybe the cover is ugly.

This year, none of the above. For the first time in the four years I’ve advised this yearbook staff, I waited and let next year’s editor open the box I’d pilfered from the cart that was being rolled away hours ago to its secret location. As she and her staff paged through the book, I slowly turned the pages of my own book, too.

“Yes!” I whispered.

“Yes!” they repeated, over and over.

Yes became a chorus.

Finally, finally, finally.  We did it.

Well, maybe I’m not weaving and dodging enough.  I was hit by rubber bands twice during class today–and worse, I didn’t notice.  Why must the perpetrator be so honest?  Seriously, I hate doing it, but I had to give the “if this keeps up, I’ll be dusting off the broom” speech that I’ll be elaborating on more tomorrow as they take their new seats…seats that face straight forward instead of inward.  Oh, well.

Tonight, I was reminded of what a good man I married.  He tidied up the garage, washed the living room and kitchen floors and cleaned up the kitchen, and all spaces ranged from reasonably messy to horribly pigstyish. In addition, he helped me take J’s changing table/dresser combo down to the basement and bring up my old dresser for J’s room so that I could find room for the five billion loads of laundry I had sitting on the basement floor spilling out of baskets and tubs.

And guess what…he didn’t even complain.  Seriously, I love this man.

Tomorrow’s an important day–we’re having someone stop by to do an evaluation on J’s development, and I hate for people to see what hell it can really look like around here when we don’t have time to clean on the weekend.  J’s probably fine, by the way, but it never hurts to have an eval done.  He seems like bright, well-adjusted boy, but since I’m his mama, I think he’s the smartest thing ever to cross my path. However, there’s a little something in his history that might have put him at risk for some delays, and its recommended that children in his situation get eval’ed. If he does qualify for services, which I seriously doubt, at least we’ll have started early.  If not, I’ll have someone else’s affirmation of what I already know–my little man is brilliant, funny and sweet.

Wish J luck :)

Our afternoon routine has been pick up J at sitter’s, screaming and kicking, drop him off in our yard and play, play play.  One of his favorites is this cute little two-seater that is still hard to drive, especially considering that he’s only 19 months old and he’s trying to drive over lawn…never the easiest.

….

On a totally different topic:  yesterday, I got an email from an agency our portfolio was sent to two years ago.  In it was a situation that was probably very do-able financially.  I thought about it for about two seconds and realized that for me, having something like that drop into my life that suddenly and unexpectedly would be equivalent to me getting a second line on a pregnancy test.  A small miracle and just too easy.  Sure, I don’t have an up-to-date home study, a husband agreeable to the idea of a second child or even a shred of planning done, but sure, we’ll bring him home!

Yeah, right.  Like I said:  about as probable as getting pregnant.

I know, the second line on the pregnancy test would then be followed by months of an actual pregnancy that probably wouldn’t be the easiest, but still…just the thought.

“Which one is yours?”

“The boy–there’s only one boy in those shots.”

“Is he yours, or is he adopted?”

Wide-eyed stares snap from the Great Wall ‘O Jackson Love to E., new kid in the room.

“He’s mine AND he’s adopted…just because he’s adopted doesn’t make him any less mine, you know.”

And then I begin to wonder:  would it make sense to go off the track and give a little mini-lesson on adoption every semester just so that could avoid some of the questions?  Probably.  Should I?  Not unless I can find a short story that we can use to learn about symbolism or hyperbole or something.  I certainly wouldn’t want to be accused of not teaching to the standards.

Any suggestions?

All you people who didn’t go through domestic adoption to add to your family won’t appreciate this, but I have BIG NEWS.  (All caps?  Totally warranted.)

I opened up the mailbox the other day and along with a few of the bills that will eventually drive me to an insane asylum, I found that special little envelope with J’s full (and quite long, now that I look at it) name in the address window.  The return address started with “Social Security Administration.”

The social security card has landed!

Now we can file taxes like normal people, open him up a little savings account for college and just plain stop worrying about all the extra red tape this whole adoption thing brings along with it but that no one talks about.  Now, we just need to worry about saying the right thing when he looks at us and realizes our skin isn’t quite the same color as his and wonders, “How the hell did that happen?”

I hope he’s not old enough to sign his social security card by then.

Eternal hell. That’s where I thought I was when we were waiting for a match before J came along. According to Adoptive Families, it’s estimated that at any one time one million families are actively seeking adoption, whether they’re wading through all that initial paperwork, worrying over travel arrangements or sitting nervously next to the phone, waiting for a call…any call.

If you’re considering adoption for the first time, I have a little unsolicited advice for you from someone who’s been through that hell not so long ago.

1. Read about adoption now because when that baby comes, you won’t have much time for heavy reading for quite some time. And you WILL need to read. Check out blogs, books and magazines and try to absorb some information during those hours you’d rather be pestering your agency or checking your website stat counters for information on how many times your profile has been seen.
2. You don’t need to have all the latest and greatest baby products right NOW. If might be a while before your baby comes home, and the products in the baby aisle of your favorite store are constantly being upgraded and refreshed. One of my friends who has a three-year-old was amazed when she helped me register at all the great, new products available for babies and their moms–did you catch how old her child was? 3.
3. Speaking of baby products, you might want to hold off on that shower that your friends and family want to throw you. They’re happy that you’re taking this new step and you’re needing a diversion, but see number 2. Waiting until the child is home is probably the best time you can have a shower, and it’s actually good timing since plans can go awry and potential placements don’t always come through.
4. Please, read the blogs of mothers who have placed their children. There are several good ones, and they’re all worth reading. Some people in the community hate adoptive parents and make that clear, but you need to hear their perspectives to really understand the extra complexity of the type of family you’re choosing.
5. Consider the ethical implications of the choices you make during this time. Should you advertise? How should you speak to expectant mothers who contact you while exploring adoption?
6. Remember: The only clear way to earn respect from your adult child is to treat his or her birth family with respect. Consider how you might do this before you meet them.
7. Journal. Writing does a few things: it gives you an outlet for the overwhelming emotions that can run rampant during The Wait; it creates an important document that you and your family will look back at in wonder in a few months, years and decades; and if you choose to blog, it will give you friends you didn’t have before The Wait–friends who get you.
8. If a call does come in and you are given information about a child, absorb it all and write it down. Collect any information you can get. If this child comes home with you and you aren’t part of an open adoption, that information you do have will be treasured like little nuggets of gold.
9. Be prepared for travel–who has the best rates to the regions you might travel? Those adoption fares we all hear about are few and far between, but good deals are still available. In fact, we flew home the same day we bought a ticket–first class (believe me, with a baby that was THE WAY to go)–for only $189 each. If needed, and with ICPC being somewhat unpredictable this is important, the ticket date could be changed without a fee. The airline we chose caters to the vacation travel business and flies to limited airports, but they went where we needed to go and they did it well.
10. Finally, be prepared for the unexpected. For us, just being chosen was unexpected, but then there were delays with our FBI fingerprint cards that we didn’t know we needed to have done but had to have if we were going to ever bring J home. There were unexpected encounters with J’s foster mom. Then, there were the nice unexpecteds. People are nicer to people carrying a baby carrier through an airport. Free upgrades on rental cars can happen. Children bring out smiles that you’d never see if they weren’t around.

Those good things can happen, but you might have to wait longer for them than you want. Although it’s little consolation to you now, once I picked up J for the first time the pain of the wait was almost completely forgotten. If I want to try hard, I can remember it, but there’s so much good happening now, there’s no reason to try.

Well, I got some news from the social worker at J’s placing agency, and it’s not so good. The small, unimportant news is that there is no forwarding address at this point, but the bad news…the bad news is tragic.

I’m not sharing the exact information, but J’s birth mom has suffered through some difficult times and the social worker doesn’t think her situation has improved all that much since J was placed. And…she’s being deployed to Iraq.

My heart is just breaking for her, but there’s not much I can do about it, aside from send positive thoughts out there in the hopes that somehow they make a difference in her life. I asked if they’d forward on care packages if his birth mom updated her address before she left, and I’m waiting for the answer.

I’d like so much to touch her life in some positive way. There’s just no way to touch hers in the way she’s touched ours. I know she didn’t do it for us–but all the same, her actions have brought so much joy to our lives.

T questions why I feel this need to reach out to her, and I guess I can’t really explain why.  What I do know is that I’m not the type to feel jealous at the possibility of J wanting to reach out to her at some point in the future, nor do I expect that I’ll be terribly affected by the first tantrum that ends with a shout of “I wish I was with my real mom!” and a door slam.

Instead of that insecurity, I feel this connection between us all, a connection that is as real as any connection I have with the rest of my family.  And because I feel that connection, want to reach out and heal the hurt.

Maybe if we did have contact, I’d feel different…but I hope not.