During one of our home visits with our social worker, she asked if I'd had enough time to grieve over the loss of a birth child. I responded, I don't think I was ever devastated at not being able to become physically pregnant, not like some of the women I know who've invested so much time and money in IVF as well as multiple surgeries and procedures. But once the realization set in, that becoming pregnant wasn't happening at the time we'd been trying up until the present, I was sadly disappointed. So much so . . . that it does make me cry and sometimes feel just a little inadequate as a woman who's supposed to be child-bearing. Then I run through inane thoughts like, I married too late, my time has passed. I usually regain my sanity and know, this is the way it's supposed to be. We are meant to be an adoptive family . . . because we'll be pretty damn good at it.
Still, those piercing moments tend to nip at me like annoying mosquito bites. Like when pregnant women talk about how they can't wait to lose all the weight they've gained or what kinds of cravings they've had. I'm not angry, but sometimes feel a little stabbed. Or maybe it's just a pin prick like when they draw blood for a routine blood test. I make sure to check myself. I'm aware it's my stuff and no one else's. I'm also realizing, folks are extremely respectful of our privacy and choice to adopt. It's paradoxical. Part of me appreciates that, and the other part of me is wistfully wondering, Why aren't they excited for us? If we were physically pregnant, there would be such hullaballoo.
I've romanticized for some years now, what it might be like once we walk through the gates at Newark Airport, returning home to the States after a long journey to pick up our child. I've begun to think about our child's welcome ceremony, how to personalize it, and whom I would want to celebrate with us. A. says he doesn't want too much pomp & circumstance around our future child's homecoming. Me? I go back and forth. There are some things, I know I would love to do, and there are others -- not so much. Every so often, I surf through the net looking for different ways to channel my excitement. And then, I stop myself. Maybe it's too soon to be overjoyed. We don't have a child match yet.
But I am . . . delighted . . . because I have been pregnant in my heart for so very long.
