Déjà Vu All Over Again

Last week, within an hour of learning that our first adoption situation was faux, I was independently contacted by an acquaintance from my adoption support group. Her daughter had decided to place her baby in an open adoption, and could I send her our portfolio to review? They were having lunch so it would be best to have in the next hour or so.

I would have moved freaking boulders with my bare hands  to make that happen. I bustled around my office at the speed of light, scrambling to scan each page of our adoption book into pdf files that could be emailed. The scanning app stalled, the printer kept malfunctioning. As I scanned, I practiced deep breathing techniques to stop freaking out, since I was convinced my printer’s ineptitude had doomed us to failure. I was near tears thinking I was going to miss our window of opportunity. When I got it done and realized the file was too large to email, I completely blanked on how to use Dropbox, the world’s easiest app,  in my frenzy; I sent an SOS to the hubs, and he came through from work, compressing the files and getting them sent. Go hubs! Cue the huge sigh of relief, crisis averted.

It absolutely MUST be noted that from being notified that the first adoption situation was a fraud, to the second adoption being initiated,  a mere 47 minutes had passed. The only way this neon sign from God could have been made clearer is if He had used sky-writing to spell it out over our house.

Within an hour of emailing the pdf adoption book, I received the message that her daughter loved our profile, and saying it reminded her of her own family. Could we meet in the next couple days to talk adoption specifics?

I couldn’t believe that something this amazing had happened to us!  We went from the very bottom of the adoption roller coaster, after being emotionally derailed by Carrie and her husband, to being offered the opportunity to adopt out of the clear blue sky. In my mind, the whole convulted puzzle finally fit together, and it was good. It was good, people. It seemed like this was what we had been preparing for, like all the heartache and pain had led us to THIS moment.

As confident as we were, we told no one but our parents while it was all unfolding, just to be on the safe side. Because, duh. Our track record was abysmal and it was all starting to feel a little bit too much like The Boy Who Cried Wolf: Family Addition Edition.  We kept the news to ourselves and felt like we were hiding the greatest surprise ever, which also felt kind of sneaky and fun, if I’m being honest.

The expectant mother went into labor a couple days ago and we hired a lawyer for her. The family asked nothing of us other than for prayers. There were/are factors in play that made/make it largely impossible for the birth mother to raise the baby. She knew this, and chose adoption.  It was a very brave, very self-aware thing to do and the hubs and I were impressed.  Her situation is the type where, if she chose to keep the baby, her parents would be the ones doing the raising.* Her parents are folks who have dedicated their lives to raising children, both biological and adopted. They are people who have relished the role of grandparents over the past few years and recently began enjoying a well-deserved retirement.  As you can imagine, raising a newborn is probably not at the top of their retirement bucket list.

*Note: I’m not being judgemental. The above statement was shared with me, I did not come to that conclusion “just because.”

The hubs and I, demonstrating our shared inability to sense a pattern, really believed we were going up to meet the baby today and begin the process of adoption. As you may have gleaned from my sarcasm, that did not happen.  I received a call this about mid-morning that the daughter had decided to parent her baby.

I sincerely wished her well, gracefully congratulated her on the new addition, and took it like a champ. That is not a humble brag folks; that is a straight-up, unabashed, honest to goodness BRAG, and I stand behind it.

We set a new record, folks!  Two failed adoptions in one week! I guess we all get to be famous for something at some point!  Hooray.

This time was easier because of the shorter time span, and also because my adoption group acquaintance is a really great person who kept us in the loop and up to date the whole time.  She is a neat lady and she is trying to handle this as best she can, too. I think she was as surprised as I was at the sudden change of heart, because, if you remember from a couple paragraphs up, she and her husband are going to be the people raising that baby, something they had not planned on.  That is easily as unfair as what keeps happening to the hubs and I.  I really do wish her and her husband the very best as they navigate this unexpected new challenge, and pray for health and joy for them, and baby girl, and their daughter.

As for the hubs and I, maybe it’s time to take a hint. We don’t know.  We’re evaluating our next steps. When you consider the years of infertility, the pregnancy losses, the failed adoption situations…I mean, if you called someone several times and left voicemails that weren’t returned, followed it up with a few text messages and emails that were ignored, and finally, showed up at that someone’s house and rang the doorbell to no answer, even though the lights were on and both cars were in the driveway, what would you surmise from the situation?  That’s where we are right now. We’re infertile adoption stalkers.

It sounds pitiful, but truly, each day brings us so much joy with our little silver lining, Mr. E.  Things sure aren’t going our way, but that one time, they did. We must never forget that, and treasure the gift we were given.


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