Recently my hubby Bill and I were babysitting for his brother and wife, Mike & Ronda. Their little girl Emma is the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen (yes I know, I’m biased.) When Mike & Ronda asked if we would take her for an afternoon we jumped on the chance to spend the day with her. We also thought it wouldn’t hurt to get some more kid practice before we adopt.

Emma is a year and a half and therefore still in diapers. I often joke that I have a diaper phobia, and while it’s not really a phobia, I honestly do have a hard time with them. Mike & Ronda know this, but when they dropped her off they were happy to report – and we were relieved to hear – that she had already pooped that morning. Whew! We should be poop-free for the rest of the afternoon.

Not so fast! Sure enough, she gets a poopy diaper. Now the thing is I’ve actually changed a diaper before… ONCE. And I could only manage to do it by NOT LOOKING. (Yes, it’s actually possible to successfully change a diaper with your head turned and a horrified look on your face.) I think since I got through it once before I was a little overconfident with Emma that morning, because when I went to change her diaper I made the mistake of LOOKING.

As soon as I saw the poop I quickly looked away, said to Bill something to the effect of, “Oh my God, that’s SO GROSS!”, and then I started gagging. And then I actually threw up in my mouth a little. And then my eyes got huge and I looked at Bill with a deer-in-the-headlights look on my face as I realized the inevitable. And then I dashed for the bathroom and HURLED.

Yes, I ACTUALLY VOMITED. And the worst part is that it hit me so hard and so fast that I didn’t make it all the way into the toilet before I tossed my pancakes (we did indeed have pancakes that morning). I managed to barf mostly in the toilet but partially on the bathmat. NICE.

So I hurl one big hurl, and then I start laughing because I know how ridiculous this whole freakin’ scenario is. People change millions of diapers a day without barfing! I scooped poop every day for four years working at the animal shelter and NEVER barfed! But I look at poo smeared on a kid’s booty and I projectile vomit? WHATEVER!!!

So I’m laughing, and laughing HARD. I’m laughing so hard that I start crying. Laughing so hard that it took me a minute before I could even stop to talk. Then I yell down the hall to Bill, “OMG dude, I just hurled!” And Bill yells back, sounding a little miffed, “Yeah I know, I heard it.” And that makes me laugh even harder. And all the while my poor hubby is in there having to step up and do what I couldn’t do without barfing. He deserves a gold star or something.

Later on he says to me, “You always know it’s a good party when someone hurls.” Ha! And of course Mike & Ronda laughed their keisters off when we told them. They felt a little bad of course, but it’s too funny not to laugh.

And that, my friends, is why it’s a good thing I’m not having a baby or adopting a baby. The Great Diaper Debacle of 2008 (as I have since dubbed it) pretty much confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that adopting an older kid is definitely the right choice. Yes I know I will still have to deal with some poo, snot, and puke, but at least I won’t have to do it several times a day.

Actually, the truth is I probably won’t end up having to deal with that stuff at all. One glimpse of bodily goo and I’m likely to barf and then Bill will have to deal with it instead. God I love that man.

(Yeah I know, I’ve already been told a thousand times “It’s different with your own kids”, but honestly, I have no desire to find out if that’s actually true!) 

This entry also posted with the Seattle PI.
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In addition to being a writer and aspiring mom, Susan Metters also carries the distinguished title of Cancer Survivor Extraordinaire. Some of her secret ambitions include meeting Dr. Phil, hosting Saturday Night Live, and rising to the top as a rock star. You can read more about Susan’s life adventures by visiting her blog with the Seattle P.I., Lemon Margaritas. If you have ideas, questions, rants, or ramblings feel free to email susan [at] seattlemomblogs [dot] com.

Will it be a boy or a girl? Will it have hair or no hair? Straight hair or curly? Will it have all 10 fingers and toes? Will your wee one be healthy? Free of birth defects? How about personality? Intelligence? Will your child grow up to be tall like dad or short like mom? There are a lot of variables, even within a known gene pool, and you don’t get to pick and choose the traits that you hope your little one will have.

With adoption you have a little more opportunity to choose. Do I want a boy or girl? Do I want my child to be the same race as me or am I open to (or even prefer) another race? Do I want to adopt from this country or another country? What age do I want to adopt? Do I want to adopt one child or siblings?

If the child is older there’s even more choice involved, mainly because more is known. Do I want my child to be a toddler, school-aged, preteen or teenager? Do I want a child that’s already been raised in my same religion? How about personality – do I want an outgoing child or a reserved one? One that’s funny, brainy, gentle, or spunky? How about interests? Do I want a child that loves animals, likes camping, swimming, video games, or reading?

Oooh, this is fun, isn’t it? I get to pick and choose my family! Hmmm, not so fast…

Here’s the thing – admittedly it’s kinda cool to have some choice in the matter. Or so it seems at first glance. But as Bill and I got farther into it we quickly discovered that all this choosing isn’t so fun. Quite frankly it’s equally a blessing and a curse, especially when it comes to special needs.

At one point we were actually given a checklist of a whole host of potential problems. We were asked to go down that list and check the things we were willing to take on as an adoptive parent. Everything from asthma to Down Syndrome… you name it, it was on the list. And you know what? For every box we left unchecked we felt like complete jerks.

Are we horrible people if we say we don’t want to parent a child with autism? Or a child in a wheelchair? How about a child with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome? Is ADHD something we’re willing to take on? What about blindness, deafness, seizure disorders, cleft palate, aggressive behaviors, depression, anxiety, self-injuring, Down Syndrome, etc, etc, etc??

How in the world can you pick and choose these things? I mean, on the one hand it’s a little bit of a relief to know that if I don’t want a kid with11 toes I don’t have to worry about that. (Obviously I wouldn’t care if my kid had 11 toes; I purposely chose a benign example.) But you know what? Who am I to choose that? If I had a biological kid born with 11 toes obviously I would love that child unconditionally. I would rise to any challenges that came our way. And because I would love a bio kid unconditionally shouldn’t I love any adopted kid unconditionally???

So faced with a checklist like that, what would you do? Would you check everything? Seriously, ask yourself that. If you could pick and choose, what would your checklist look like?

Let’s think of it in terms of biological kids for a minute. If it were possible to have a similar checklist before your child was born would you honestly check everything? No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t even check the box for 11 toes. If, for some reason, the kitchen got your order wrong and your bun came out of the oven with 11 toes, you’d rise to the challenge. But you didn’t choose it, and you would never choose it if you had the choice.

Picking and choosing children isn’t like picking out new pillows for the couch or a new paint color for the bathroom. These are people. And yet as part of the process our agency required that we fill out the checklist. Why? Because honestly, each of us has our limitations. There are some things we could deal with like champs and some things that would push us to the brink. If we take on a child with a special need that we know will push us to the brink, are we doing that child any good? Because you know what? It all comes back to the kids. It’s not really about what I do or don’t want in a child. It’s about my ability to parent that child and give them the best life possible. If I say I’m okay with a kid with 11 toes when I know deep down that 11 toes is going beyond my capabilities, then the person I’m really hurting is the child.

So with guilt washing over us, we went through each item on the checklist. We had a lot of discussions; we did a lot of soul-searching. And we checked our boxes. We felt good about the ones we checked, and felt like jerks about the ones we didn’t. But all the while we reminded ourselves that we are human, and we can only do so much. As much as it hurt, we had to be brutally honest with ourselves for the sake of our future children.

We are choosing adoption. We are choosing special needs. Though many boxes were left unchecked, many others were. Picking and choosing is hard, but I have to remind myself that the fact that we are choosing at all means that a child without a home will soon have a forever family. There should be no guilt in that.

I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do. – Edmund Everett Hale

This entry also posted with the Seattle PI. Copyright © 2008 Susan Metters. All rights reserved.
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In addition to being a writer and aspiring mom, Susan Metters also carries the distinguished title of Cancer Survivor Extraordinaire. Some of her secret ambitions include meeting Dr. Phil, hosting Saturday Night Live, and rising to the top as a rock star. You can read more about Susan’s life adventures by visiting her blog with the Seattle P.I., Lemon Margaritas. If you have ideas, questions, rants, or ramblings feel free to email Susan at susan [at] seattlemomblogs [dot] com.

So what is Kids’ Fest exactly? It’s an opportunity for prospective adoptive parents to meet children in the foster system. It’s a party with a carnival-type atmosphere where the kids are running around, engaging in different activities and having fun. The adults are joining in the play and hanging out with the kids. There is no talk about foster care or adoption – it’s all about fun and playful interaction. The point is just to meet and mingle with several kids who are waiting for adoption.

Bill and I interacted with several kids. We started by shooting hoops with a 9 & 10-year old brother and sister, then moved on to eating pizza with a 10-year old girl, frosting cookies with a 12-year old boy, and playing bongo drums with a 7-year old girl and her 10-year old sister. There were other kids we met along the way too.

It’s a neat idea, but I have to admit it was weird at the same time. It was definitely cool to put some warm bodies to the faces we’d seen in the photo listings and to hang out with different kids. At the same time it felt very awkward – at least for the adults.

Here’s the thing: we’re surrounded by all these kids, all currently in foster care, all hoping for a home. The younger kiddos are just having fun but you know the older ones understand the purpose of the party. What do they think about that? How does that make them feel? The sad part is you know that Kids’ Fest isn’t going to result in a new family for every kid that was there.

Some of the kids we met were very open and engaging, but some of the kids were quite closed. You’d try to talk to them and interact but they had no interest in talking to you. I had to wonder, are they so jaded that they feel like there’s no point? Have they already decided they’re not going to “get picked”? Have they been so let down by the adults in their lives that they just can’t trust anymore? It’s heartbreaking to think about.

Sadly, foster kids have a bad rap. People tend to think they are riddled with problems, that they’re “damaged goods”. But when you think about it, aren’t we all to some degree? These kids had a rough start, and yes, it’s affected them. But as we hung out with these kids it was amazing to see their resilience. Even those that were a bit closed were still enjoying themselves and participating in the activities. Despite what they’ve been through they still knew how to have fun.

While we don’t think any of the kids we met will end up being a match for us, Kids’ Fest was worth going to. If nothing else Kid’s Fest confirmed what we already knew in our hearts and minds: all of these children are still just “regular” kids. I just wish the rest of the world knew that.

This entry also posted with the Seattle PI. Copyright © 2008 Susan Metters. All rights reserved.
_______________________________________________________
In addition to being a writer and aspiring mom, Susan Metters also carries the distinguished title of Cancer Survivor Extraordinaire. Some of her secret ambitions include meeting Dr. Phil, hosting Saturday Night Live, and rising to the top as a rock star. You can read more about Susan’s life adventures by visiting her blog with the Seattle P.I., Lemon Margaritas. If you have ideas, questions, rants, or ramblings feel free to email Susan at susan [at] seattlemomblogs [dot] com.

At Microsoft there are email groups – also called aliases – for different communities. These are non-work related but supported by Microsoft due to their value to the employees. One of the email groups/communities is the adoption alias.

Well last week there was a flurry of activity on the alias. Teleflora – in conjunction with Kraft, NBC, Redbook and MySpace – was holding a contest called “America’s Favorite Mom“. Now I’m assuming this contest has been going on for a while, but someone on the MS adoption alias caught wind of it and, well, all hell broke loose.

Here’s the problem: in the contest there were the following categories, accompanied by the following descriptions:

The Military Mom – She’s either far from home, the wife of a soldier, or works at home on her own to support our troops. She is a hero to her kids.
The Working Mom – She works away or at home, all the while managing to balance career and family. Quite a feat.
The Single Mom – She’s raising her child alone, whether by circumstances or by choice. Whatever happens, the buck stops with her.
The Non-Mom Mom – Grandparent, stepmom, or mom to adopted children, each one raising and loving a child. A priceless gift for everybody.
The COE “Chairman of Everything” Mom – She’s the “soccer mom.” She gave up her career to raise her family. Chauffeur, cook, tutor, nurse — she does it all.

Did you notice where the adoptive mom ended up? In the Non-Mom Mom category. Yikes.

I haven’t been at this adoption thing very long, and I don’t even have kids yet, but there’s one thing I learned very early in the process: if there’s anything that will raise the hackles of an adoptive parent it’s when someone refers to their child’s birthmother as the “real mom”. A question as simple as, “So was Johnny’s real mom from out of state?” will cause an adoptive parent to see red.

And it’s no wonder. Adoptive parents are real parents. They are the ones there for the first day of school, for every baseball game, for every school play. They are the ones standing there with camera in hand on prom night and proud tears in their eyes on graduation day. And let’s not forget the less glamorous times such as sleepless nights of vomiting and diarrhea. Adoptive parents are just as “real” as if they had given birth to their children.

Needless to say the adoptive parents on the Microsoft adoption alias didn’t take the non-mom category lying down. They told all their friends about it (I heard about it from hubby and another MS friend) and asked everyone to raise a stink with the people running the contest. I would venture to guess that other adoptive parents and groups across the nation did the same, because in short order the category was renamed and an apology showed up on the site:

Teleflora is immediately changing the name of our “Non-Mom” category to “Adopting Moms”. After closer examination, we can see how this may have been offensive to moms who have adopted children — moms who are indeed real moms to their children in every sense of the word. In fact, many of us at Teleflora are “adopting” parents ourselves, including our president and owner. The essence of this category still focuses on a grandparent, neighbor, step mom, or mom to adopted or foster children, each one raising and loving a child.

This show of insensitivity on our part was in no way intended and we deeply apologize for any concern or distress we may have caused. It was always our intent to salute and celebrate all moms.

Personally I tend to assume the best in people, and feel that most shows of insensitivity are due to ignorance. You can’t know how it feels to be in a certain position if you’ve never been there, right? When I had cancer some people said some insensitive things, but only because they’d never been through it. I never held it against them, and when it was appropriate, I gently corrected them.

I don’t think Teleflora’s insensitivity was intentional either, but I’m glad people contacted them and corrected them. It’s important for people to realize that words matter. By calling an adoptive mom a non-mom they were negating the legitimacy of adoptive parenthood. Likewise, by calling a birthmother the child’s “real mom” you are inadvertently implying that the adoptive mother is a “fake mom”. Both birthmoms and adoptive moms are “real” moms; they simply have different roles in the child’s life.

So to help out those of you not familiar with adoption terminology, here’s some advice: when speaking to an adoptive parent or even an adopted child, never, ever, ever refer to the biological parents as the child’s “real mom” or “real dad”. The preferred terminology is birthmother, birthfather, and birthparents.

And what do you call the adoptive parents? Simply call them “mom” and “dad”. After all, that’s exactly what they are.

This entry also posted with the Seattle PI. Copyright © 2008 Susan Metters. All rights reserved.
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In addition to being a writer and aspiring mom, Susan Metters also carries the distinguished title of Cancer Survivor Extraordinaire. Some of her secret ambitions include meeting Dr. Phil, hosting Saturday Night Live, and rising to the top as a rock star. You can read more about Susan’s life adventures by visiting her blog with the Seattle P.I., Lemon Margaritas. If you have ideas, questions, rants, or ramblings feel free to email Susan at susan [at] seattlemomblogs [dot] com.

Mother’s Day

Remind me not to adopt two boys. (Just kidding!)

Happy Mother’s Day to all you wonderful moms out there!

In this recent stir of controversy surrounding GTA4, even Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) has had something to say. They’ve requested the Entertainment Software Ratings Board (ESRB) to reclassify the game as “Adults Only”; its current rating is Mature. In addition, they’ve called on publisher Take-Two Interactive and developer Rockstar Games to consider stopping distribution of the game.

I get it, I really do. The game is incredibly irreverent on many levels. How do I know? Because my husband bought the game and has been playing it for the last week.

So yes, I’ve seen it. I’ve sat alongside my husband for several hours, watching him play. Both of us periodically find ourselves saying things like, “OMG! I can’t believe he just did that! That is sooooo bad!!” in reaction to the antics of the game’s characters. And then we shake our heads and laugh.

Personally, I think MADD and all the other parents freaking out about this game need to chill out.

Now hang on a sec before you blast me for saying that! Let me explain my stance.

I think the critical problem here, the thing that parents are losing sight of, is the fact that not all video games are intended for children. Yet somehow many parents seem to think that they are, so they get upset when a game is inappropriate for their children. But you know what? Video games are like movies. Some are for kids, and some are for adults. Plain and simple.

The makers of GTA4 did not create this crazy game for kids. They made it for adults. (And yes, there are a lot of adults that play video games. My hubby and I included.) This is why the game is rated M, which means “mature”, which means basically the same thing as an R-rated movie.

And that’s what parents need to compare video games to: movies. Video games are not “toys”. They are a form of entertainment made for people of every age. Just like movies, you have to use your parental judgment to decide what your kids are allowed to play. Would you plop your 5-year old in front of an R-rated movie? Of course you wouldn’t. Neither should you plop them in front of M-rated games.

The ratings are there to help us, the parents. It is our responsibility to pay attention to those ratings and to supervise the games our children play. We need to teach our children to use sound judgment when playing games at a friend’s house. We need to foster relationships with the parents of our kids’ friends so that everyone is on the same page. And if the other parents don’t care and let their 10-year old play M-rated games, then guess what? I guess Johnny doesn’t get to go to Davey’s house anymore. You are the parent. It’s up to you to parent your children, not up to the video game industry to make games you approve of.

As for MADD, I do understand their concerns. The problem here again is that they are losing sight of another important aspect of video games: this is fantasy, it’s not real life. Just because I’ve watched a movie depicting someone driving drunk doesn’t mean I’m going to decide to go out and do it myself. I’m an adult and I know the difference between make-believe and real life, between right and wrong. Video games made for adults are no different. If you’re offended by the content then don’t watch the movie or play the video game.

My husband is one of the sweetest, most level-headed, gentle and responsible people I know. Trust me, I have no worries that after playing GTA4 that he’s going to somehow suddenly decide to become a gangster and start driving drunk. He’s not. He’s going to keep working at Microsoft making video games, and being the wonderful husband (and soon to be father) that I know him to be. And when kiddos finally grace our household, games like GTA4 won’t be anywhere to be found.

To familiarize yourself with game ratings, please visit the ERSB website. If you read the descriptions GTA4 is appropriately rated as M. Descriptions of movie ratings can be found on the Motion Picture Association of America website.

This entry also posted with the Seattle PI. Copyright © 2008 Susan Metters. All rights reserved.
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In addition to being a writer and aspiring mom, Susan Metters also carries the distinguished title of Cancer Survivor Extraordinaire. Some of her secret ambitions include meeting Dr. Phil, hosting Saturday Night Live, and rising to the top as a rock star. You can read more about Susan’s life adventures by visiting her blog with the Seattle P.I., Lemon Margaritas. If you have ideas, questions, rants, or ramblings feel free to email Susan at susan [at] seattlemomblogs [dot] com.

When we were doing our paperwork and classes we tried to plow through it as quickly as we could. I had surgery in the middle of it all which slowed us down, but we tried to plug away at it consistently. From the time we sent in our application to the time we got approved was about 5 months.

Now I know that doesn’t sound very fast, but the amount of stuff we had to do was pretty monumental. (Later on I’ll blog more specifically about all the things we had to do.) We were also limited by class availability and our social worker’s schedule. It took her 6-weeks just to write up our home study report! After reading the report I realized what a huge task that was. When I think about it all, it’s no wonder it took us 5 months.

But now that the flurry of forms and classes are done, all we can do is wait. I’ve heard that this is the hardest part and I can see why. At least when we were going through the process of getting approved we felt some sense of control. We were actively pursuing our family, you know? Now it’s out of our hands and all we can do is wait.

Besides that, we have to deal with the not-knowing. Will they call us with a match tomorrow? Next week? 6-months from now? If we knew how long the wait would be it would be easier to deal with, but alas, only God knows when we’ll be matched and he’s not telling.

So we wait. We read adoption books. We read adoption blogs. We surf the photo listings. We watch the Supernanny every week and take notes (seriously!). We talk about the things we’re looking forward to and the things we’re worried about. We dream about what it will be like – the good and the bad. We talk to our friends with kids to get tips and advice. We go to an adoption support group. We try our best to prepare any way that we can. We field inquiries from friends and family who ask, “Have you heard anything yet?”, and so far the answer remains “not yet”.

For all our good efforts, all we can really do is wonder… and wait.

This entry also posted with the Seattle PI. Copyright © 2008 Susan Metters. All rights reserved.
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In addition to being a writer and aspiring mom, Susan Metters also carries the distinguished title of Cancer Survivor Extraordinaire. Some of her secret ambitions include meeting Dr. Phil, hosting Saturday Night Live, and rising to the top as a rock star. You can read more about Susan’s life adventures by visiting her blog with the Seattle P.I., Lemon Margaritas. If you have ideas, questions, rants, or ramblings feel free to email Susan at susan [at] seattlemomblogs [dot] com.

The next day rolled around and she wasn’t better. In fact, she kept having bouts of panting. She felt a little hot so I made a vet appointment for the following day. I knew she didn’t feel good but I didn’t think it was urgent.

When Bill got home he asked how Cleo was doing and I gave him the report: pretty much the same. He suggested I get on the internet and look up dog symptoms but I got distracted and forgot. Around 9:30 that night he says, “Did you ever look up her symptoms?” and I sheepishly had to say I’d forgotten.

So I hopped on the internet and found a couple of vet sites. One of them said if your dog’s temperature exceeds 102˚ you should take them to the vet. She felt hot but I hadn’t even thought of taking her temperature. Duh! So while Bill bribed her with treats I took her temp with a rectal thermometer.

“It’s over 104″, I told him, “maybe we should call the after-hours vet.” Dogs have a higher body temperature than people so I didn’t know whether 104 was a big deal or not. Clearly she had a fever but maybe it was just a low-grade fever, you know? So I call, and the woman on the phone says anything over 103 should be seen immediately. Immediately? Oh no.

And then the mom guilt (or in this case, dog-mom guilt) kicks in. Why didn’t I do something sooner? Why didn’t I think to look up her symptoms earlier? Why didn’t I think to take her temperature sooner? What if this is really serious and I didn’t act on it quickly enough???

We get to the vet around 10:30pm and after a brief exam and another temperature reading – 105 this time – he said she needed to be admitted to get her temperature down and to run some tests. Unlike with people, we weren’t allowed to go back with her. He said it would take an hour or more to run tests so we should go home. Go home? And leave my baby here?

We did as we were told and went home, waiting anxiously. At midnight he called us and said that he thought she had pancreatitis. The blood tests showed high pancreatic enzymes and her abdomen was painful on examination. She was in pain? And I missed it? My poor little girl! And unfortunately pancreatitis can sometimes be fatal. Fatal??? {gulp} 

Needless to say she spent two nights at the vet hospital before she was well enough to come home. Obviously, during that time I was worried sick. 11 is old for a big dog. I kept thinking, What if she’s really sick? What if she dies? Our beloved 16-year old cat died in September, I can’t lose my girl 6-months later! I can’t, I just can’t. And I know had the worst happened I’d have never forgiven myself for not doing something sooner.

Thankfully she’s fine now, and is resting quietly on the couch beside me as I write. She seems no worse for the wear. I’m incredibly relieved – all was not right with the world until she was home.

With adoption in our future, I can’t help but wonder how I would feel if something like this happened with my human kids. I would imagine that it would be similar, only to the nth degree. And I know it’s going to happen. Maybe not a 2-night stay at the hospital with a potentially life-threatening condition (let’s hope not), but the mom-guilt and the mom-worry. I have a feeling it will be ever present, because it already is with my dogs. Maybe it just goes with the territory. I can only hope that my 10+ years of dog-momhood have given me at least an ounce of preparation for what’s to come.

This entry also posted with the Seattle PI. Copyright © 2008 Susan Metters. All rights reserved.
_______________________________________________________
In addition to being a writer and aspiring mom, Susan Metters also carries the distinguished title of Cancer Survivor Extraordinaire. Some of her secret ambitions include meeting Dr. Phil, hosting Saturday Night Live, and rising to the top as a rock star. You can read more about Susan’s life adventures by visiting her blog with the Seattle P.I., Lemon Margaritas. If you have ideas, questions, rants, or ramblings feel free to email Susan at susan [at] seattlemomblogs [dot] com.

Anyway, while we were out of town (my plastic surgeon is in Oregon) we received the following email:

Dear William and Susan,

I wanted to let you know that I have officially approved you into the US Kids program – Congratulations!

Our program coordinators will be in touch with you shortly!

Best wishes,
M.

The email was sent by the adoption processing coordinator at our agency. Our home study has officially been approved! Woo hoo!!!

We thought this meant we were done with forms and papers. Au contraire, mon frère! Two days after that email we got an email from one of the program case managers asking us to fill out more forms. Forms, forms and more forms! Does it ever stop? This must be the adoption equivalent to pregnancy. Instead of morning sickness we’ve got forms up the ying yang.

That’s okay. It’s a small price to pay to bring a child into your life. And personally I’d rather fill out a stack of forms than go through labor. Honestly! But that’s just me.

(Just for fun I looked up the word labor. Definition #7 says “The process by which childbirth occurs, beginning with contractions of the uterus and ending with the expulsion of the fetus or infant and the placenta”. Expulsion? Good God! What a way to describe it! Yes, I’d definitely prefer a stack of papers to the “expulsion” of an infant. Yikes!)

This entry also posted with the Seattle PI. Copyright © 2008 Susan Metters. All rights reserved.
_______________________________________________________
In addition to being a writer and aspiring mom, Susan Metters also carries the distinguished title of Cancer Survivor Extraordinaire. Some of her secret ambitions include meeting Dr. Phil, hosting Saturday Night Live, and rising to the top as a rock star. You can read more about Susan’s life adventures by visiting her blog with the Seattle P.I., Lemon Margaritas. If you have ideas, questions, rants, or ramblings feel free to email Susan at susan [at] seattlemomblogs [dot] com.

My hubby and I have thought about adoption for a long time so I’ve browsed the online photo listings from time to time throughout the years. When we finally decided to move forward with the adoption process this past September, we started looking at the kids in the photo listings in a new light. Instead of just browsing, we started looking at these kids as real possibilities. One of these kids might actually become our child!

Needless to say, there has been a brother/sister sibling pair that has really been tugging at our heartstrings. They just seemed like such a good match for us. Their personalities seemed to be just what we are hoping for in children and we felt like we could provide what their social worker was looking for in a home.

In the photo listings they tell you when the children were first listed. These cuties have been listed since last May and still not adopted. So we were hopeful that they would still be available by the time our home study was completed (it’s almost done, but not quite yet). The farther along we got in the process the more we allowed ourselves get attached to their photo and description.

Just last night we were hanging out with a good friend of ours who adopted 5 years ago. We were talking to her about this pair and how we felt really good about them, how we thought they might even be “the ones”. Then I jokingly said, “Wouldn’t that suck if they’ve been on the web all this time and tomorrow they were gone?”

Can you guess where this is going? My hubby calls me as soon as he gets to work this morning and he sounds upset. “I looked on the site this morning before I left for work and they were there, but now they are gone!”

They’re gone. And according to our agency, that means they’ve found a home.

While I’m happy for the kids, I can’t help but be bummed for us. Week after week since September they’ve been there, and week after week we became more and more attached. And now they’re gone.

I know this might sound ridiculous to many of you. How can I be bummed about kids I never met? Well just as mothers love their babies before they are born, I believe it’s possible to fall in love with the idea of something. You anticipate what it’ll be like when they get here. You start to picture them at the dinner table, or running to greet you after work. Sure, maybe we shouldn’t have let ourselves “go there” in our heads but we did.

But I don’t think that’s all bad. Allowing ourselves to go there has opened our eyes and hearts to possibilities that we initially rejected. At first we were very closed about the age range we were willing to consider; we wanted 5 or younger. But the photo listings have widened our view of what our family could be. At one point there was a 13-year old boy we were surprised to find ourselves very drawn to. What we realized is that finding a child or two that is a good match for us (and we are a good match for them) is more important than any other parameter we might have in our heads. Going there, in many ways, has been a good thing.

Even though seeing their little faces disappear from the list today was hard, I know it will all work out for the best. Our kids are out there. Right now, somewhere, they are waiting for us just as much as we are waiting for them. I have faith in that. We’ll find each other.

This entry also posted with the Seattle PI. Copyright © 2008 Susan Metters. All rights reserved.
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In addition to being a writer and aspiring mom, Susan Metters also carries the distinguished title of Cancer Survivor Extraordinaire. Some of her secret ambitions include meeting Dr. Phil, hosting Saturday Night Live, and rising to the top as a rock star. You can read more about Susan’s life adventures by visiting her blog with the Seattle P.I., Lemon Margaritas. If you have ideas, questions, rants, or ramblings feel free to email Susan at susan [at] seattlemomblogs [dot] com.