Back in August I started writing out Cam's adoption story. It was an idea I had after reading some things on adoption.com, about getting a will done and making sure to pick good guardians.
I got to writing in earnest, describing why we chose adoption, our venture into IVF, what agency we used, even what criteria we picked about what kind of situation we would accept. I pasted in all the emails I exchanged between our social worker, some of which were difficult to read, as Cam's story has lots of twists and turns.
For whatever reason, I put the project aside and pretty much forgot about it until this week. I suppose what precipitated my picking it back up, was joining my mom at her lawyer's office so that I could be made her power-of-attorney. All of the sudden a fire has been lit up under my ass, and I am very close to being done with the story.
Except that I am not sure where it ends. Does it ever really end? Can I put a date on it and lock it up in our safety deposit box and forget about it? I have been sitting in Starbucks for three hours. Two of those hours I have been screwing around on the internet trying to decide if I need to include more. When I think about the possibility of Rob and I both dying, and leaving Cam parent-less...again, I get all choked up. She lost her first parents when they made the adoption plan. If something happens to Rob and I, that would be two huge losses. Because of that I am having a hard time wrapping up the "ending".
And perhaps Starbucks was not the place I should have gone to write something so filled with emotion. Or that I chose the day I am overly hormonal thanks to PMS. I should have brought my own box of Kleenex, as I have practically emptied Starbucks' napkin holders. Not much of a choice, because there is no way I could have stayed at home and been afforded the solace in which to write.
When I have told people what I am doing, they think it's great...but morbid. For whatever reason, I am not at all bothered by the fact of my mortality. I just hope it doesn't happen with Rob. Because choosing an decent set of parents to take our place? Impossible.
Before Cam, I would have easily picked three couples to name. Now, seeing those same three couples in light of their parenting choices? Oi vey. Add to that the special consideration of what adoption means, and add to THAT, what it means to parent a child of color. My mind splits in agony at the thought. My one motion towards that area is to put a book in my Amazon wish list: In On It: What Adoptive Parents Would Like You To Know About Adoption. A Guide for Relatives and Friends.
I got to writing in earnest, describing why we chose adoption, our venture into IVF, what agency we used, even what criteria we picked about what kind of situation we would accept. I pasted in all the emails I exchanged between our social worker, some of which were difficult to read, as Cam's story has lots of twists and turns.
For whatever reason, I put the project aside and pretty much forgot about it until this week. I suppose what precipitated my picking it back up, was joining my mom at her lawyer's office so that I could be made her power-of-attorney. All of the sudden a fire has been lit up under my ass, and I am very close to being done with the story.
Except that I am not sure where it ends. Does it ever really end? Can I put a date on it and lock it up in our safety deposit box and forget about it? I have been sitting in Starbucks for three hours. Two of those hours I have been screwing around on the internet trying to decide if I need to include more. When I think about the possibility of Rob and I both dying, and leaving Cam parent-less...again, I get all choked up. She lost her first parents when they made the adoption plan. If something happens to Rob and I, that would be two huge losses. Because of that I am having a hard time wrapping up the "ending".
And perhaps Starbucks was not the place I should have gone to write something so filled with emotion. Or that I chose the day I am overly hormonal thanks to PMS. I should have brought my own box of Kleenex, as I have practically emptied Starbucks' napkin holders. Not much of a choice, because there is no way I could have stayed at home and been afforded the solace in which to write.
When I have told people what I am doing, they think it's great...but morbid. For whatever reason, I am not at all bothered by the fact of my mortality. I just hope it doesn't happen with Rob. Because choosing an decent set of parents to take our place? Impossible.
Before Cam, I would have easily picked three couples to name. Now, seeing those same three couples in light of their parenting choices? Oi vey. Add to that the special consideration of what adoption means, and add to THAT, what it means to parent a child of color. My mind splits in agony at the thought. My one motion towards that area is to put a book in my Amazon wish list: In On It: What Adoptive Parents Would Like You To Know About Adoption. A Guide for Relatives and Friends.
So, mortality is not a problem for me, making sure that after I am dead my kid knows how cherished and loved she was and finding suitable stand-in parents is.
Responsibility is a bitch.
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