I did something really stupid. I started reading about failed/disrupted adoptions on a popular forum board. Which freaked me out and lead to me chant about 2000 daimoku. Which calmed be down a bit – until I got an email from the social worker who had a meeting with Emily last week and wanted to touch base with me. About what? I thought, was it bad news? No of course not, she would have called me right away. Hubby came home at the tail end of our conversation – everything was fine – but of course I felt silly for even worrying in the first place. And relieved. A disrupted adoption is the equivalent of a miscarriage (in a way). Not a death of a child but a death of dream since I will never be pregnant.
Later, as I was walking back home with a heavy bag of groceries for supper, I was grumbling a bit to myself. The kids who were out at a suburban mall, we were going to have pasta but of course, I was out of sauce and they needed bread and cold cuts, etc and while hubby was out walking the dog, I decided to go to the store located farther away cause it was much cheaper and I thought the walk would do me good. But of course the bag was heavy and I was grumbling as I walked back home. I really wanted to be with hubby walking the dog. I came across a father teaching his little boy how to ride his bike. Along came a black cat to greet them and as I walked by, I heard the father talking softly to the boy about the neighbourhood cat. I kept looking back straining to hear what he said. When I reached home, the kids were back, the TV blaring and of course, the lazy ass girlfriend situated on the couch. I’ve been waiting for 3 weeks for her to clue in to the fact that she might want to volunteer to do something around here, but have given up and resorted to direct instructions. The previous night I had asked her to make the salad (step by step). My only regret is that I’m working for the next few evenings and won’t be making her do more before she leaves. Hubby and I low-talked in the kitchen and sensing my mood took over making dinner. I was overcome by emotion and starting crying. It was the worry about the future, the fear of loss despite all our efforts, the quasi- parenting we had been doing for the 18 years olds who seemed more like 8 years olds and the constant drain on our finances (yeah, I know welcome to parenthood) at a time when we are undertaking to achieve one of the most significant event in our lives – and the father with the son on his bike – and our tall, handsome nephew that could have been ours to raise into a more capable young man and hubby will be travelling for most of September. And guess what – we’re having more family come at the end of the week! And when you’re waiting for a baby to arrive, you can’t really get excited and talk about it. So I try to keep quiet and take it one day at a time. Cause I’m such a strong person – weeping quietly over the kitchen sink. DH tried to reassure me that he would “get me a baby” and I’d be fine. Funny, eh, how guys just want to “deliver the goods”. Like it’s a car or something.
I asked the kids to clean up after dinner (yes, I had to ask and when I turned around lazy girlfriend had gone for a smoke while nephew finished up) and then later they went to Starbucks (we asked them to take the dog for a little walk and of course, they returned her in five minutes cause she was acting skittish) and then retired to their room. They got the hint I guess.
I had a dream early this morning about my mum and I woke up feeling completely shattered. I dreamt about her in our old house. It was one of those vivid dreams where you wake up with practically the smell of it still in your nostrils. I told hubby (who was awake) and I ended up sobbing again. Little Miss Juno heard me and jumped up on the bed looking at me. Our little family awake at 5:30am. I imagine a little basket with a little baby boy wailing his lungs out by our bedside – our little family awake and bleary eyed. I’m crazy.