Now I (kinda) get it

I've never liked it when people say, "I understand what you're going through."

 Probably because when I am going through it, I am utterly convinced that no person in the history of history has ever felt what I was feeling. But, when we take a step back, and make things less personal than they need to be... it seems that most everything that happens, has indeed happened to someone else, in some similar form, at some previous time.

 For the past year my girlfriend and I have been taking steps to prepare ourselves to become adoptive parents. Neither of us wants a baby, so we are looking for a kid. Someone who likes legos, playing outside, being silly and is potty trained. We probably should be more specific than that, but we really aren't. We don't have an exact age, or even much or a range nailed down. The child's gender is of little interest to us, and we are open to all races.

This process has been interesting... that's a strange word for it, but I really don't know what else to say... I've never done anything like this. So, naturally, I look to the Internet for information. Trying to find a blog to read has been somewhat challenging. It seems that the main reason people look to adopt an older child is because they are called, by a god, to help that child. Since neither my girlfriend or myself are god(s) fearing or god(s) loving people I find it difficult to connect with the message in those blogs. And since one of my friends has told me, more than once, that if I wrote a blog, she would read it... I decided to start my own blog, about my (our) journey... Not just about adoption... but that seems to be where it will start.

Over the past month we made a connection with a fifteen year old girl. We met up a couple of times, went out to a nature festival, ate cupcakes, enjoyed fine asian dining, watched some movies and chatted a bit on the long rides to bring her back to her current "home." Putting quotes there feels insensitive... because at this moment in time, the place in which she resides is her home... but it seems almost cold to call that a home. We are lucky our residences for displaced children are unlike the orphanages of the past (or of the present in other countries), even still, a bunch of dreary buildings, a family paid to watch over you and mass produced lunches just doesn't feel like the kind of home I'd want my child to live in for any length of time.

Going into details is not something I'm going to do here. Not just because I cannot, but because I won't. Yesterday our placement with this sweet young girl officially fell through. On our end there was much crying over the past two days, and I assume there will be more tears, especially as we continue to find evidence of her weekend stay with us around our home.

It seems like ALL of my friends are pregnant right now :) This is a wonderful thing... I get to feel super tiny humans kicking around inside my friends' abdomens! One thing that has always perplexed me is why families wait until after the 3rd trimester to tell anyone they are expecting. I know the rate for miscarriage is between 10 and 25% in the first trimester, and that is the reason my friends give for holding their tongue. Having never been pregnant, it is difficult for me to truly appreciate their decision... but I always thought, that even if you miscarry, and everyone knows you were pregnant, then you would have this big awesome group of people to lean on.

It's crazy how many kids there are waiting for a home. And I (we) can't help them all... and for each one it will be a different reason. I know what we are feeling now is different from what a family feels when a miscarriage happens. But I'm starting to understand why people might keep their little treasure a secret. We're so lucky to have such wonderful people in our lives. Since letting my facebook world know the sad news yesterday, I have received some very heartfelt texts and warm, wonderful hugs.

Dear friends, Thank you for not letting us suffer this situation alone. We are fortunate to have you, and glad we had the courage to share our news with you. Your strength and love is helping our sadness to grow into acceptance. Thank you.

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