I Don't Do Tricks

I want to say upfront that I'm really thankful to be here: able to adopt, semi-confident we'll pass the home study, and just shy of raising 20% of our fundraising goal. There is more hope inside my heart than there has been in years. It feels weird. If I wasn't so overwhelmed, I think I'd be happy. Weird indeed. But I've never been one to paint rainbows where they don't exist or imagine roses in a field of weeds. This blog is "Genuine Greavu" for a reason... I don't sugar coat it. Never have (to my own detriment) and probably never will. I feel like I've got to be honest about this stage of everything too. Not only because it's just who I am, but because I don't feel like I really understood the whole picture until now. And someone out there is probably right where I am, or two steps behind and needs to know she's not alone.

Adoption is hard my friends. All of my adoptive parent friends are thinking, "I told you" and they did, I just didn't get it. I didn't get how vulnerable the adoption process would make me feel. Ironically, I feel far more exposed now, sitting fully clothed, amidst scattered pages of sample profiles, budgets, and grant applications than I ever did lying half naked in the stirrups. It doesn't really make sense. I joke that half the doctors in Atlanta have seen all of my business, but some days it felt like that... reproductive endocrinologists (a total of six), OBGYNs (three), nurses, and ultrasound technicians (too many to count) have been paraded back and forth in front of me with my legs spread wide for the past three plus years. I wouldn't say I was comfortable with it, but whatever modesty I once clung to went out the window by the second IUI. And yet suddenly I feel incredibly exposed, naked for the world to see, and no one's even offering me a paper sheet.

Right now, we're in the home study stage. One of my adoptive parent friends explained it like this: you go through adoption kind of backwards. Your home study is your labor and delivery. It's the part where it can't go fast enough, hurts like hell, you just keep pushing through, and you want to scream for somebody to give you some bloody drugs. After the home study comes the waiting and that's like the nine months of gestation. It's slow and steady (or not so steady)... the day to day changes seem insignificant and it's all in anticipation of this one day. It seemed weird when she described it like that, but now I think I get it. This definitely feels like a good enough reason for some pain killers. I wouldn't mind something to help me sleep either.

When I heard people discuss the home study before, it was always in terms of the quantity of paperwork. I imagined that was the daunting part. And don't get me wrong, it is daunting. The sheer volume of paperwork is enough to send people packing. I just keep telling myself that I am an organized, type A person... my brain was designed for this type of task. The part that I was not designed for is the "don't ask why" part. I imagine I was one of the world's most obnoxious children. "But why?" was my favorite phrase. I have always needed to know why and "because it is" has never once shut me up. The home study is full of opportunities to ask "why?". Why do they need to know that? That's what I ask myself 1,000 times a day. And then the monsters Anger, Jealousy, and Entitlement rear their ugly heads from down deep in my soul and the pity party begins. This isn't fair. 

I imagine adoption is a frustrating experience for anyone, but for me, for someone who has been knocked low time and time again by infertility; for someone who has questioned and doubted her fitness to parent; for someone who already struggles with ideas like justice and fairness; for someone like me, the home study is hard.  I keep telling myself that this has nothing to do with my inability to conceive... these steps, these hoops, these acrobatic tricks are required of fertile people too. It helps to remember that this is not punishment. They aren't looking at me with angry, disapproving eyes and questioning if I could possibly be fit to parent... the greatest, proven moms and dads have to jump though these same hoops to adopt. But I forget this truth approximately 10,000 times a day. It is so easy to feel judged at every single step along this path.

The questions in the home study are hard. I say that and people always say, "like what?"... I give an example or two and I get the response back, "that doesn't sound that hard." And they're right. Any one question all by itself isn't that hard. It's the sum total of all of the requests. Things like:

What is your fondest childhood memory?
What aspects of your parent's parenting do you hope to avoid?
Describe your current relationship with each of your parents.
What would you change about your spouse?
Prove your pets aren't rabid.
What's a common disagreement in your marriage?
Describe how your in-laws feel about you adoption plans.
Do you and your spouse feel the same about adoption?
Prove your septic tank can support an additional person.
What contact are you expecting with the birth parents?
What is the racial composition of your neighborhood?
Provide six letters of reference.

Now maybe I'm feeling a wee bit sensitive (remember, nobody offered me a sheet to cover up my personal stuff), but when I read through the TWENTY SEVEN separate files of questions and requests and hoops, I want to say three things. 1- I'm not a dog, I don't do tricks. 2- Why do you care? and 3- Stop picking at my scabs.

That's the best way I can describe the home study... at least for me. It feels like they just want to pick at all of your scabs. Sam doesn't seem to be too offended, but he also doesn't have a rebellious bone in his body. He's a "how high?" type of guy when asked to jump. I'm a "I'm just going to sit here until you tell me why" type of girl. As you can imagine, the home study is hard for me for that reason. But it's also hard because it feels like they're purposefully digging, intentionally trying to stir up trouble. Just let sleeping dogs lie, you know? It feels like one big psychological mind game in which they wait to see who snaps. My life hasn't been perfect (whose has?), but suddenly I feel very judged for that, judged for things that are completely out of my control. Should my childhood, my lack of a current relationship with my father, my infertility, or any of the other mostly healed wounds in my life be reason I'm deemed "not fit to parent"? I want to tell the powers that be I've dealt with my demons... I've spent long, hard hours becoming this semi-self-sufficient, mostly healthy, battle-scarred adult you see before you so just let the demons be, let the wounds continue to heal, sign the papers and send me on my way.

Please believe me that I do, somewhere, in the very back, far-reaches of my mind know that the home study and and all of these 10,000 flaming hoops are for a reason. I know that our government has all of these restrictions and stipulations in place because there are creepers out there and we need to protect our children from these people. I promise, I do get that. But believe me, my rational brain is sleep deprived and overwhelmed and operating at 10% these days... the part that's left to process this mess is the hormonal, snappy, whiny part that just wants a baby.

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It's been a hard week around here. Please take a minute to stop by Allison's blog and give her some love. She lost one of her precious daughters yesterday. Please continue to pray for her other daughter who is currently in the NICU. And then, please visit Conceptionally Challenged. Tomorrow marks one year since she lost her precious twin daughters due to PPROM.

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Just a quick reminder that if you're interested in taking a look around Caroline's online Stella Dot store front, you can use this link. 20% of every purchase will help bring Baby Greavu home.