66. And the waiting continues…
So, here are a few things I’ve learned about adoption: literally no one’s journey is the same, literally nothing is predictable, people don’t treat you like your kids’ parents and often treat you like the enemy, and you have to deal with a lot of incompetence and have absolutely no power to speak up or make it better.
Recently, I can’t help but feel like the people that have been working with my children have been fighting the adoption tooth and nail. I can’t help but feel like they are treating me like this horrible person for taking them away from their foster family. I keep feeling like I’m trying to pry my children out of the hands of those that have all the decision-making power. I don’t get to talk to anyone directly, but I hear this and that from third party communication. Our agency keeps telling us to stay out of things and let them be the “bad guys” that fight for what we believe is best for the kids, but we know they have other families they’re working with and a ton on their plates and they’re asking us to sit back and let THEM fight for OUR CHILDREN. It’s infuriating and maddening and I literally feel like I’m losing my mind so often these days. I feel like someone is out to screw up the process at every turn. I feel incompetence from workers at every turn. And I have to swallow my words and accept that these (horrible ways of dealing with) things are out of my control.
People keep saying, “It’ll all work out" and “Someday you’ll look back and this won’t matter.” I know people mean well. And most of the time, I just let these comments roll of my back. But sometimes, I just want to grab these people and shake them and say, “Okay, if it really doesn’t matter, then let me take your kids away for a few months and not let you talk to them or see them and give you absolutely no say in when you get them back, and see if you still say it won’t matter.” It’s absolutely absurd. And yet, people make these comments because they’re uncomfortable with my feelings and want me to feel better. As if anything they say will take away the pain of all the moments I’m missing with my kids, the pain of knowing that every day they get a little older and a little closer to being grown up and out of the house. The pain of knowing that, when we’ve already missed 8 and 7 years of their lives, we are desperate not to miss another minute.
Yes, before we know it, our kids will be home with us and we’ll finally get to act like their parents and make the decisions we believe are best for them. Yes, we know we’ll look back on this time someday and be so grateful it’s behind us. But will it be considered a “minor” bump in the road or a “small” hiccup, the way some people’s well-intentioned comments have suggested? Absolutely not. Is there even a way of quantifying what is a “minor bump” or a “small hiccup” when it involves you being separated from your children? How could there be?
It absolutely sucks seeing so many other people make decisions for my children. Yes, I absolutely understand that they know my children better than I do and have been with them for much longer than I have, and I am very grateful for the safety and care that they’ve given my kids. But what completely sucks is that I’ve felt so cut out of every conversation about them and their future. I’ve felt disrespected, as if people are treating me like I’m incompetent and not even worthy of being invited into these conversations. I’ve felt like everyone is trying to make it as easy as possible for them to cope with such a major change, and meanwhile I feel like these ways they’re trying to make it easier is actually making it much harder. I feel like there are huge professional boundaries being crossed, but I can’t speak up because we’ve been told not to. I feel like the people who know our children and have the decision-making power are just blatantly ignoring every effort we’ve made to connect with them and be in the loop.
Sometimes, I just need to be angry. This is what I wish people could understand. Sometimes, I don’t need or want to be cheered up. I don’t need to see the bigger picture. I don’t need to look at the positive or focus on what is in my control. I just need to be pissed off. And then I’ll feel better. Then I’ll let go of what I can’t control and focus on what I can. I’ll let go of anger about the absurdities and look forward to the good times we’ll have. But this is my own emotional journey to take. No one else can push me to “feel better” or “let it go” until I’m ready. Sometimes, I just need people to listen and empathize and be angry with me and then I’ll gradually feel better on my own.
And many days, I do feel positive. I’m not an angry wreck every day. Lately, we’ve just had a lot of tougher days, and this is part of the process. But there’s a lot that I’m looking forward to, and this is often what makes the waiting so challenging. This is a journey. It’s filled with ups and downs.
We’ll get there. But the road is long, exhausting, lonely, and infuriating.
