Separate

I am beginning to get a sense of just how vast the difference between adoptive and birth parenting can be. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't under any illusions about this before, it's just that some events have transpired to bring the reality home. Sometimes, it feels like there's a void between me and other parents. A rift has developed between me and my sister, someone I have never really argued with before or at least not for any length of time. Indeed, up until recently I would have described her as my best friend. But adoption seems to have changed all that. As the adoption situation became more complex, I found that there was no common ground between our parenting journeys and we drifted further and further apart as I tried - and failed - to articulate some of the emotions I was feeling. I wrote in a previous blog post about how I wished I was pregnant because of the different treatment of pregnant women to those preparing to adopt. I know that if I were pregnant, my sister and I would be talking about birth plans (I always said I wanted her around, or at least nearby, during my birth experience) and getting excited about the big day and the babymoon to follow. Instead, R and I are preparing for our matching panel meeting with heavy hearts, as we just have not clicked with our new social worker and feel increasingly alone. I'm not sure my sister even knows we have a matching panel meeting next week. I wish I could explain what this is all like without seeming to be doom and gloom about things. I am trying not to be doom and gloom, but sense that this is where I have lost connection with my sister, and others, as R and I struggle to ride the waves of our adoption preparation. Preparing for parenthood shouldn't, after all, be a doom and gloom period of your life. All the years I supported pregnant couples, I was caught up in the excitement, the deep personal transformation, the joy and wonderment of their adventure. I wanted adoption to have the same qualities. I knew it would be different, of course, but I still wanted to capture some of that magic. Until our social worker went on emergency leave, all was going so well....

From reading others' blogs, I know that this is just the beginning of a the sense of separateness that keeps adoptive parenting in a special category from other parenting. I am aware that I need to create a network of support around us as we embark on this new stage of our lives, but I just don't know where to begin. How to explain the ups and downs, the rollercoaster of emotions that come from knowing your little boy is just an hour's drive away but you're not allowed to be with him, let alone meet him, until the endless endless bureaucracy has been navigated? How to explain the sense of dislocation as you try to get on with normal life but find yourself frustrated and angry and powerless? How to explain what it feels like to read the letter your son's birth mum has written for him - the pain and anguish in her words and the realisation you're going to have to help him make a sense of that and the tragic truths of his birth family?

Spending time with friends and their families brings it home how simple parenthood can be - just getting pregnant ('it was a complete surprise!') and then getting on, in your own sweet way, with birthing, caring, mothering, playing and being with your children. There's no assessment of your capabilites, no questioning of your finances, lifestyle, life choices, relationships and no intrusion into your family life. There's no sitting in a room with a bunch of strangers who know the most personal and intimate (and painful) details of your personal life and have no qualms in asking you about them. There's no defending your right to parent, over and over again. There may be isolation and loneliness, but you can rest assured there's billions of parents the world over just like you. Even if you can't get out of the house, they're just a click of the mouse away.

I am feeling blue and missing our beloved social worker, so this has turned into a royal moan which I hadn't intended. I want to be happy and full of excitement and joy that in 17 days we will meet our son (maybe...though after last time and the last minute cancellation, we're less inclined to count down the days). Instead, I feel anxious about the matching panel without our social worker next week (they're going over our finances with a fine-toothed comb as I don't receive maternity pay as a self-employed adopter) and sad about the breakdown of communication with the people I love. I feel bad about posting when I feel this dreary, but sometimes it is just good to get it off your chest. Forgive me, most of the time I am a very happy camper.