It's very much like not waiting.
Everyday, I wake up after hitting snooze a couple times. I get coffee. I check my phone. I get in the shower and get ready for my day. I go to work. I come home. I spend time with my family.
These days, I'm in grad school. I do homework now instead of assigning it. I stress about my grades. I'm memorizing lines. I'm making new friends, and laughing with old ones. I'm missing my husband, but enjoying the support he gives me in furthering my education, even if that support comes from 715 miles away. I count down the days until I get to see him again - seventeen, in case you were wondering.
I enjoy the same hobbies as before Jonathan and I began this process. I read books. I paint my quotes. I drink wine. I shop (I swear I've only bought one pair of shoes while here in Chicago). I go to the theatre. I work out ... sometimes.
But I'm also waiting. I have this little voice in the back of my head every step along the way ....
I wake up after hitting snooze a couple times (maybe today will be the day). I get coffee (I love this coffee mug, it's so artistic. I wonder if our child will be artistic...). I check my phone (Maybe I got a call when I was downstairs and didn't hear it. No? Oh well. Let's catch up on some adoption blogs over this cup of coffee). I get in the shower and get ready for my day (How am I going to shower when there's a kid to watch? I guess that's what husbands are for...) I go to work (Yes, students, my ringer is on, and here's why...). I come home (No call today). I eat dinner (I really should learn to cook. And to eat more healthy. Isn't that what moms do?). I spend time with my family (our growing family...).
These days, I'm in grad school. I do homework now instead of assigning it. I stress about my grades. I'm memorizing lines. I'm making new friends, and laughing with old ones. I'm missing my husband, but enjoying the support he gives me in furthering my education, even if that support comes from 715 miles away. I count down the days until I get to see him again - seventeen, in case you were wondering. (What if we get the call while I'm still here in Chicago? Will I have to drop out? Will I have to take a couple years off? What if we get placed right before I start my last year? What then? Can Jon and Grandma and Baby Kozy live in Chicago with me? Is that selfish? What if ... In what other ways will being a mother change me? How long will "Baby Kozy" be an acceptable nickname?)
I enjoy the same hobbies as before Jonathan and I began this process. I read books (Adoption for Dummies...). I paint my quotes (each one that sells gets me that much closer to Baby Kozy). I drink wine (and make jokes about being an expectant mom and still being able to enjoy a glass of wine). I shop (Jon - I swear I've only bought one pair of shoes while here in Chicago) (And I avoid the baby section as best I can). I go to the theatre (How cool is it that my kids will grow up in the theatre?). I work out ... sometimes (this is so infrequent, we don't really need an adoption thought to go with it).
And it goes on and on.
Being a waiting parent seems easy, and in a lot of ways it is. But in a lot of little hidden ways, it's really hard. While discussing this with a pregnant friend of mine, she said "It's like being pregnant, with no due date". Which is kinda true.
All the thoughts described above aren't 100% of the time. But it is constantly somewhere in my mind. Almost every time my phone rings, I wonder briefly before I see the caller ID if it's my social worker. When I see baby items at a store, it's hard for me to resist stopping and losing myself in imagination. Instead of just checking Facebook and updating my status, I'm checking in with adoption support groups - both large and small. I am celebrating joys and literally crying over bumps in other people's roads. Because I fear I will have the same bumps, and I fear I won't have the strength to overcome them.
Being a waiting adoptive parent is like being in love with somebody who you don't know yet, and cannot wait to meet. Isn't that how all expectant parents feel?
All My Love,
Nikisha
Everyday, I wake up after hitting snooze a couple times. I get coffee. I check my phone. I get in the shower and get ready for my day. I go to work. I come home. I spend time with my family.
These days, I'm in grad school. I do homework now instead of assigning it. I stress about my grades. I'm memorizing lines. I'm making new friends, and laughing with old ones. I'm missing my husband, but enjoying the support he gives me in furthering my education, even if that support comes from 715 miles away. I count down the days until I get to see him again - seventeen, in case you were wondering.
I enjoy the same hobbies as before Jonathan and I began this process. I read books. I paint my quotes. I drink wine. I shop (I swear I've only bought one pair of shoes while here in Chicago). I go to the theatre. I work out ... sometimes.
But I'm also waiting. I have this little voice in the back of my head every step along the way ....
I wake up after hitting snooze a couple times (maybe today will be the day). I get coffee (I love this coffee mug, it's so artistic. I wonder if our child will be artistic...). I check my phone (Maybe I got a call when I was downstairs and didn't hear it. No? Oh well. Let's catch up on some adoption blogs over this cup of coffee). I get in the shower and get ready for my day (How am I going to shower when there's a kid to watch? I guess that's what husbands are for...) I go to work (Yes, students, my ringer is on, and here's why...). I come home (No call today). I eat dinner (I really should learn to cook. And to eat more healthy. Isn't that what moms do?). I spend time with my family (our growing family...).
These days, I'm in grad school. I do homework now instead of assigning it. I stress about my grades. I'm memorizing lines. I'm making new friends, and laughing with old ones. I'm missing my husband, but enjoying the support he gives me in furthering my education, even if that support comes from 715 miles away. I count down the days until I get to see him again - seventeen, in case you were wondering. (What if we get the call while I'm still here in Chicago? Will I have to drop out? Will I have to take a couple years off? What if we get placed right before I start my last year? What then? Can Jon and Grandma and Baby Kozy live in Chicago with me? Is that selfish? What if ... In what other ways will being a mother change me? How long will "Baby Kozy" be an acceptable nickname?)
I enjoy the same hobbies as before Jonathan and I began this process. I read books (Adoption for Dummies...). I paint my quotes (each one that sells gets me that much closer to Baby Kozy). I drink wine (and make jokes about being an expectant mom and still being able to enjoy a glass of wine). I shop (Jon - I swear I've only bought one pair of shoes while here in Chicago) (And I avoid the baby section as best I can). I go to the theatre (How cool is it that my kids will grow up in the theatre?). I work out ... sometimes (this is so infrequent, we don't really need an adoption thought to go with it).
And it goes on and on.
Being a waiting parent seems easy, and in a lot of ways it is. But in a lot of little hidden ways, it's really hard. While discussing this with a pregnant friend of mine, she said "It's like being pregnant, with no due date". Which is kinda true.
All the thoughts described above aren't 100% of the time. But it is constantly somewhere in my mind. Almost every time my phone rings, I wonder briefly before I see the caller ID if it's my social worker. When I see baby items at a store, it's hard for me to resist stopping and losing myself in imagination. Instead of just checking Facebook and updating my status, I'm checking in with adoption support groups - both large and small. I am celebrating joys and literally crying over bumps in other people's roads. Because I fear I will have the same bumps, and I fear I won't have the strength to overcome them.
Being a waiting adoptive parent is like being in love with somebody who you don't know yet, and cannot wait to meet. Isn't that how all expectant parents feel?
All My Love,
Nikisha
