textualdeviance: (Babies R Us)
[personal profile] textualdeviance
As I write this, I'm waiting (im)patiently for my son to decide he's ready to be born.

Last Monday, we got another screening mail from our adoption agency. We'd had another one a month or so ago that didn't work out for logistical reasons (the adoptive parents needed to be in Oregon), so we didn't think much of it at the time. It did look promising, though. Screening mails/calls are done when there's an unusual circumstance, to make sure the potential adoptive parents are OK with the situation. In this case, it was a short timeframe, plus some preexisting medical conditions for both birthparents that could potentially be passed on to the child. They're things we know how to handle, though, so we said we'd go for it. The brief description of the birthparents sounded good, too, so we crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.

Two days later, we got The Call. They'd picked us! Holy crap. The first blind-date meeting went incredibly well. Example: all four of us showed up wearing Woot shirts, and our poor muggle agency counselor seemed rather bewildered by the way we went off on all things nerd. I don't believe in love at first sight, but this was damned close to the adoption version of that concept. On Saturday, which was also the birthmom's due date, we had the second meeting, where we hashed out details and signed some paperwork. That also went really well.

And here we are now. I spent the majority of Sunday and Monday trying desperately to get over yet another iteration of the Plague, plus scrambling to do all the puttering and last-minute prep to be ready for the Niblet when he does show up. Which may be ... a while. Birthmom said she'd gone over by a week or two with her previous two, so it could be tomorrow, or it could be next week. I think we're all kind of antsy about it--her not least of all, undoubtedly--but I'm trying to stay calm, especially since there's not a lot I can do to make it go faster.

Of course, none of this is set in stone. Aside from the usual possible birth complications, etc., that anyone would face, there's also the tiny chance that they may change their minds. They have until 48 hours after the birth to do so if they're going to. But they apparently always wanted to do adoption, from the moment they found out she was pregnant, so I don't think that's a huge risk. (FWIW: the reason this is so last-minute is that they were working with another agency and that didn't pan out. Good for us, at least!) Still. Being in wait-and-worry mode means my brain is concocting all sorts of scenarios from delivery-room earthquakes to the discovery that the baby's actually an alien symbiote.

Assuming all goes well, however, within the next several days, there will finally be a tiny, squirmy human in my house who's actually ours, instead of one who ultimately goes home with someone else. That's ... I don't even know how to breathe, much less really wrap my head around that concept. I've prepared my whole life for potential parenthood, but part of me never believed it was actually going to happen. Part of me still doesn't believe it even now, and won't until the adoption is fully finalized. But the other part is already in love with little Terran, and can't wait to meet him.
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April 2017


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