Sunday, November 28, 2010

"The best thanksgiving ever"

That's how the story ends.

Wait until you hear how it begins....

S and I spend Thanksgiving with her family every year. S's family consists of 3 women, all of whom can safely be called senior citizens. They are all 3 lovely people who do their best to love their family. They are all 3 lovely people who have spent their entire lives in very small towns in the south - and have the fears and beliefs to match.

S + coming out = very hard for them
S + dating a real live woman = super duper hard for them
S + marrying me = inconceivable and they asked us not to send the invitation and to never mention it again

(side note: I'm always welcome at family functions, as long as we never disturb the Kate & Allie version of us they have in their minds)

Thanksgiving dinner
S: "We wanted to wait to tell you in person that we are very excited because we are adopting a baby!"

Crickets, crickets, crickets.
Smiles fade.
Eyes get wide.

S's mama: a very pained, "Well, I'm OK with it, I guess."

Which soon deteriorated into, "It's going to be a white baby, right?"
And things spiraled into horribly worse from there....
It was bad.
It was offensive.
Hurtful things were said.
There was yelling.
And crying.
And admonishments to never bring the baby to the house, "because I just can't accept it."


The drive home
We left Saturday morning. S so hurt. And me so hurting for her and so angry that a family could say the things they did. We processed for hours (as our people do). And we reconfirmed our commitment to each other to build the kind of family that we believe in, even at the cost of pissing off our families of origin.

And then the phone calls started. Guilty and even (once) apologetic. S's family trying to make amends as we drove the 7 hours home. And right before she hung up, on that last phone call, S's mama said, with deep sincerity, "that was the best thanksgiving ever."

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

5 finger discount

According to the local police department, S has no finger prints. I think this opens a whole new option for baby-getting ;)

She does too have finger prints. They are just dainty. And apparently unreadable on a live scanner thingy.

Don't tell her I referred to any part of her being as dainty.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Dr IVF and Mr Open Adoption Agency

I have been full of avoidance lately. Mostly disguised as busy-at-work - with a little bit of off-on-vacation.

My happy side has been consumed with open adoption errands. Trips to the police department for fingerprints and 9.1.1 call records. Searching for photographers that can turn my eeyore mug into something more inviting. Tracking down birth certificates and divorce decrees (the former for me, the latter for S). And it's been great. S and I share happy daydreams and exciting discussions. And we smile and laugh and dream up the perfect parenting response to all the crazy antics our one-day-peanut is going to get in to. Cue the lights and happy-go-lucky sitcom music....

Then there is this other side. The painful undercurrent of infertility that I keep under wraps by taking on too much work and keeping myself too busy and telling myself I'm-done-with-that-grieving-shit. But it sneaks up on me. And I can't read anyone's baby blogs and I can't write my own. I avoid talking to certain knocked up friends. And before I know it, I find myself in the embarrassing situation of crying over my beer in front of a friend and her new girlfriend (AWKWARD). Apparently, I'm not done with the sad.

I'm driving myself crazy (and probably S, too) flipping back and forth. What I wish is:
1. I could go to Target and pick up our new baby next time I'm over there stocking up on toilet paper.
2. And if that isn't possible, I wish I could move forward with this adoption with out any knowledge of my stupid infertility.
3. And...screw that, if we're wishing for baby wishes, I wish I had my 25 year old body with my 36 year old brain...I mean really, why is it when I finally get my shit together (career, emotions, finances, relationships), my body goes to hell?

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

London calling

We're on vacation (except for the part about how I have my laptop and I'm really still working).

People here are SO NICE.
Even girl cows have horns (and I have the pictures to prove it).
The healthy living show I'm watching on TV while my girl gets ready is sponsored by (the lea.kage drug)
The public transportation is AMAZING (but so very expensive) is not an itty bitty town with 2 restaurants and a general store, as I imagined, but a beautiful town full of nooks and crannys and nerdy smart people (my favorite kind!)
and Am.stel really is better than Am.stel Li.ght

Back in the states by the weekend....

Monday, November 8, 2010

In Vegas for a work thing

Coworkers: C'mon, let's go gamble.
Me: Can't. Saving up to buy babies.

End of story.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

It wasn't me officer, I swear

Among the other 4,635 ridiculous things we have to do to pass the home study is get a record of the 9.11 calls from each of our residences for the past 5 years. (Just a little aside - it's not that I'm mad that we have to go through this drawn out vetting process, it's that I'm mad that EVERYONE doesn't have to go through it. I mean, you have to have a license to drive a car, and be 21 to drink alcohol, but you can just make babies all willy nilly?)

So, 9.11 call records. Sounds simple. Unless your partner, prior to moving in with you, lived on campus. At a university. Full of 18ish to 22ish year old children who don't always make the best choices. She was a professional RA, so to speak. So she was there. For each of the shootings. The drug over doses. The alcohol poisonings. And the general debauchery.

I guess our homestudy will have an entire chapter devoted to explaining that away.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

crickets, crickets

We have officially skipped the bake one part and have moved directly to the buy one part. And life has been busy:
-grieving the various medical malfunctions that have led me here and have firmly closed the door to genetic procreation
-attending hours and hours of information sessions on navigating the precarious path from potential adoptive parent to actual adoptive parent
-tracking down the millions of pieces of paper you need in order for the government to approve your application to parent (yes, it's a pain in the ass! yes, i think it's important and necessary! but damn is it ridiculous that only people who have to obtain babies have to go through this paper circus!)
-and all those other little parts of life, like work and family and friends, that have been neglected for so long but seem to be clamoring for attention

triumph for today: scoring an official copy of my birth certificate

promise for tomorrow (or at least by the weekend): more blog posts