You can't hurry Love

Flaco announced to me on Sunday that he is planning on moving to Connecticut in the next several months. It bothers me and then it bothers me that it bothers me. It’s not like I’m secretly hoping he will come back because after all that has happened I just don’t think there is the possibility to “go back.” With trust being destroyed and the emotional damage done, it simply isn’t possible to revive a true committed relationship from the dust that is left behind. But, I realized last night as I was trying to fall asleep I am lonely and it is a wholly unattractive feeling. I miss the little things; a kiss good-night or good-morning, holding hands and snuggling, rolling over to nestle into that special comfortable spot, a quick phone call in the middle of the day just to hear your voice. I miss these things and more. I miss having someone special to care about and having someone special caring about me. I realize now with the clarity of hindsight, that there was a lot broken about our relationship and there are plenty of things I don’t miss. But, as lonely as I feel and as much as I would like to be in a committed relationship again there is something holding me back. I don’t know if it is just residual feelings for Flaco or fear of getting hurt again, but there is one thing that has struck me recently that I believe is holding me back from diving into the dating scene – knowledge. When I was dating Flaco and then once we got married, I just assumed, as everyone assumes, that I would be able to get pregnant. I assumed that all systems were a go and that my ovaries and uterus would work as they are supposed to and bring a new life into this world. Now I know better. Now I have a diagnosis and realize that having a biological child without expensive medical intervention is not possible. I think this is why I am so gung-ho about adopting solo. In my twisted mind, finding someone as a single adoptive mother is easier than finding someone and trying to convince them that I can’t give them a child and we should adopt. Because it is still something I don’t generally speak openly about, I’m reticent in revealing my fertility inadequacies. But, on the few dates I have had, it does come up mostly because I mention being a foster mother hoping to adopt. Why adopt? Why not have a biological baby? And then “it” must be explained. I don’t know if I find it difficult because I feel like I would (and should?) be less desirable as “damaged” goods – after all, who wants broken ovaries? Or maybe I find it difficult because I have closed the door on biological children, for so long I harbored the thought that Flaco and I would “accidentally” get pregnant after we adopted. Isn’t it a commonly believe myth that an infertile couple adopts and then finds out they have spontaneously conceived? But, I have mourned the loss of a biological child into the ground, to the moon and back. Having to explain this to someone new to the game is like jamming a pencil into the old wound and twisting it around a bit. And, as odd as this might sound, the hardest part is that I cannot say definitively that I am unable to procreate. No, I am not 100% incapable of birthing a child, it is just a complicated and expensive endeavor to actually conceive. Since I have never conceived a child, I must assume that should conception occur I would be able to carry and deliver a healthy baby. And we all know what happens when we assume…..

 

So, with all these hang-ups I should just embrace my status of solitude and cozy up to the idea that I will be single for quite some time. I have two friends who have recently turned 70 and they are single and have been for most of their lives. They each had a son rather young and after tumultuous marriages (one was married just once, the other was married 3 times), they decided to forge ahead alone. One friend (the one married several times) makes mention of being lonely from time to time but the other friend never does (although she did mention she joined match.com but found this process as distasteful as I did). They live full lives and are truly wonderful, strong, beautiful women whom I love very much. I suppose this is not something too awful to aspire to, right? They are doing well for themselves all alone and they are both very spry – one would not guess their age, they have such young souls! Obviously I am a long way off from 70, but I also need to just get used to being me, alone. It’s so funny because I was single all through high school and college, never had a boyfriend and while I wanted one, it was just never an all-consuming desire. I was happy being busy with other things – 4-H, friends, getting my college degree. Even when I joined the Peace Corps, I was really ok with being just me, learning a new language and culture and just living life. But now I feel rather unfulfilled as a singleton. Is it because I had “it” and now I cannot fathom my life without a “we” or is it because my biological clock ticks so loudly I can’t hardly hear myself think? I don’t know. I’m trying to learn how to just be content in the now, to let the future worry about itself and take things one day at a time. After all, what is the point in rushing life?   

Another snafu

A lot has been happening, even though I haven’t written and posted anything. A few weeks ago I had gotten frustrated with the older child’s relative bringing her back to my house so late at night (10:30 pm!!!) and I told her so. Since then she has been picking up and dropping off at the baby-sitter’s house. When I spoke to the county worker she told me the visits would be on a  strict schedule and occur every other weekend. But, the relative keeps getting to do whatever she likes, so I guess you only have to play by the rules if you are a foster parent. The behaviors of the child when she comes back to my house are nearly unbearable. Sometimes I dread picking her up from the baby-sitter’s Monday afternoons because I am assured to be in for a difficult evening. It is just so hard to keep hanging on when there is so much unrest with this case!

 

A few weeks ago I was told by the county case worker that the weekly visits the children have with their mother will increase from 5 hours to 7 hours and that in 4-6 weeks they would resume overnight visits. Two days after this pronouncement, the older child reported to her therapist that she was hit during a visit, so there was an investigation and visits with their mother were suspended for a week. The visit this past week was supervised and the visit next week might be as well. I feel like we are buzzing along and things are progressing and then BAM! we hit another snafu which seems to prolong the inevitable return home. The 6-8 weeks stay has now extended to 21 weeks and counting. I don’t know how much this blip will be in terms of length, nothing has really been discussed with me. There is another issue brewing with the older child and I’m not sure what might be the results of this latest problem, if anything. The case worker was over for a visit last night and she said there seems to be some hesitation with the county regarding the time frame for the kids’ return home. Part of me sincerely hopes that they don’t wait until the new baby is born and settled. It’s not that I don’t love these kids because I do – I just hate feeling like I’m living with my neck in the noose just waiting for the floor to drop out from under me. I’m learning to be more patient and just roll with the punches, but at some point I would like to be able to move on and actually achieve my goal of motherhood.  

 

Last week I got an email about a child from another county seeking to place him in a legal risk home as they move to terminate rights. He is nearly 4 and has a cleft palate but is described as a very happy and lovely child. I don’t know if it is a blessing or a curse, but getting a referral does not give me the same thrill of expectancy and send my imagination into over-drive like in the past. I guess I have finally gotten to the point where I can hear about a potential placement and not let it sidetrack me or send me into a tizzy.

 

For the most part I am just tired. The constant vicious cycle of  behavioral issues with the older child weigh on me and cause issues with the baby as well. Knowing that there is no immediate end in sight only makes the situation all the more grueling and difficult. Who would like their home to be in turmoil every Monday – Wednesday, sometimes Thursday? And it strikes me as odd that this placement, which was only supposed to be for 6-8 weeks, has become the longest placement I have ever had. The second longest was with the older child last year and that was just barely 5 months. We have now surpassed the 5 month mark and are heading into 6 months. But, I have made up my mind to persevere and not give up and send these kids packing. I know I felt that I was supposed to take them in when I made that return phone call back in December. There was some spiritual prompting, a stirring in my heart that said, “You should take these kids in.” I don’t know why, but I chose to believe it is all a part of God’s plan. Maybe I don’t get to keep them; maybe they just needed me for a time and I had to be there for them. Right after court in April, when the news was not something I expected to hear, I was frustrated and angry and I really was contemplating putting in my 30 days notice. But, I couldn’t imagine going back to an empty house and I knew I would miss the kids and want to know how they were doing and see them, so I pushed through my frustration. I’m resigned now. Whatever the outcome will be, for some reason I don’t yet know (and may never know) I was meant to be their temporary mommy and they were meant to be mine for a time. I don’t relish the heartache I will endure when they go home, but I will cherish the time I’ve spent with them. Last night we were in the backyard taking silly pictures with my cell phone and we laughed so hard and I know that is a memory I will carry in my heart  forever. Every time the baby comes running to me and wraps his arms around my leg or puts his hands up for me to pick him up, I will hide away in my heart. Every sweet smile, every lingering hug are mine to keep. We’ve made a lot of memories together in the past 5 months, going to see the Dinosaur exhibit, dying Easter eggs, going to the park, visiting the farm, picking strawberries, holding the baby ducks, going to the baseball game (yes, last week I was brave enough to take the two of them to a local minor league baseball game all by myself and we had a blast!), going to the yard sale, eating dinner out (lots of times!), going to church every Sunday, taking the cat the vet a million times – we have certainly done a lot! I wish our list could go on for a life-time, but I resign myself to just a season in life. I need to make room in my heart for my child because I’m sure he/she is getting nearer to being mine. But, I don’t ever want to forget the children who came before my child because they were all precious to me and I loved them with all I had while they were mine. I don’t always (ok, ever) take the time to appreciate the journey that brought me to where I am today and I want to start. I don’t want to be so worried about the future and “getting it right” that I don’t take time for today. I guess I’m just trying to learn from this experience and make the most of where I’m at right now. It ain’t over ‘til the fat lady sings, right?