Questions, questions, questions...

We're at the point in the process where we need to update our criminal background checks.  Ugh.  That means we've been in this for a year.  Clearances need to be updated every year.  Our medical clearances and homestudy updates will be next. Our references will be after that. I can't believe it's been a year already.  9 months waiting, but a year since we embarked on this wild journey.  I know they told us we could wait two years, but I never imagined it.  I don't think I could imgine it.  Neither of us could.  We'd already tried for so long (or so it seemed) and the thought of having to wait another two years seemed impossible and unrealistic. We were sure to be picked quickly. But here we are... living the never ending wait, the impossible dream.  We go over it and over it in our minds.  Probably I go over it more than Brian, but he's living it too.  He's ready to be finished with this chapter and into the next, much more satisfying, exciting, and meaningful chapter.  This is the point where I start to question every choice we've made, every step we've taken.  This is where, though I know it's pointless, I start to regret every choice we've made.  Did we say the right things?  Did we really portray who we are to the best of our ability?  Did we make good, strong, sound decisions about our family and what our family will look like one day?  Are we open enough?  Selfless enough?  This is where I start to get mad at the circumstances that are beyond all of our control.  This is where I get mad that I can't control my outlook and my attitude, to keep it the positive, focused, and thankful attitude that I want to have.  This is where I  try to remind myself that I do get down about it and question things for a while, but then I bounce back and am ready to face the next day with confidence and excitement.  This is where it's hard to look at the Bucket list and smile, where it's hard to look forward to doing all of those things and make the most of the time we've got with just the two of us.  It' a day.  A moment in time.  It's ok to not feel good all the time.  I can still be proud of how we're handling this.  I want to look back on this time, once it's passed by, and feel like we did it really, really well.  There were a few events this past week.  One was Coffee Talk, which I'm sure I've mentioned before, where we (meaning adoptive families in all phases of the process) gather for dinner and conversation, companionship, and understanding. The other was a seminar on "Living as a Multicultural Family".   As much as I feel like these people get it more than anyone else, there are still distinguishing differences between us, and sometimes those differences make me continue to feel alone.  Maybe the difference is that someone gave birth once and is a biological parent, now turning to adoption to grow their family.  They get it, but not totally, because they are parenting now, and did so on their own. Maybe they've adopted already and are adopting again.  Well, the wait feels different to them than it does to me, right?  Because I'm questioning whether or not it's ever going to happen, and for them, they're wondering if it's going to happen again.  Maybe someone was in our position and yet only waited for 2 months.  They don't get what it's like to go through so much and then wait for over 9 months (and counting). So, it's tough.  At Coffee Talk this week, though, I found someone who's circumstances mirror our own more than anyone else we've met to date.  She and her husband went through fertility issues (not sure if she lost pregnancies or not, but that doesn't even matter too much) and made similiar decisions about their adoption as we have, and so they wait.  And they feel alone.  Brian and I spent hours and hours talking about what would be right for our family,and why, and we made choices based on that.  Talking about those choices with other people is like talking about your finances.  You don't do it.  It's private for a variety of reasons.  It's incredibly complex.  It's stressful.  It's not just about loving a baby.  I know that Brian and I are capable and willing to love any baby out there.  But the story doesn't end there.  There's a responsiblity (and a burden, as someone from our agency recently said) that we have to make sure our child grows up strong and secure in who he/she is, surrounded by every aspect of their culture, ethnicity, and race.  Emersed in it, to an extent, so that they are equipted to deal with whatever life throws at them.  I could be more specific, but I'm not going to be because I could go on and on about this topic.  While we are very open, we did make choices that are most likely responsible for keeping us in the waiting phase longer than we otherwise might have been.  It's very difficult for me, knowing that one choice or another could end this wait.  The very needy and selfish part of me wants to go back and make a new decision.  The confident, selfless part of me knows what we're realistically able to do for our child, and do well, and knows that we made selfless decisions even if they, at times, feel selfish.  It's such a head game at times... convincing ourselves of one thing or another.   Guess you could say we've made our first parenting decisions, and they weren't fun.  They were tiring, trying, painful, confusing, complex, and scary.  They were also right, even when they feel so wrong.  Welcome to parenthood, huh?  From what I hear, I'm not done questioning the choices I've made or myself, questioning our ability to parent and wondering if we're doing it right.  So, we just have to do the best we can to make the best choices possible.  And, as everyone at Open Arms likes to say so often, when we have our little baby in our arms and in our hearts, it's all going to make sense.  Every last bit of it.