the first adoption interview

Paul and I went for our first adoption interview with our caseworker on Friday.

Neither of us really knew what to expect..... I mean, he probably wanted to know that we're not escaped convicts and stuff, but that goes without saying, right?

We stopped by the Jewish bakery on our way, and Paul got a black and white cookie. I said I didn't want any, but he gave me half anyway. I thought that was quite decent of him.

I was a little nervous. It all felt so....I don't know, real. Like we're actually doing this. Not just talking about it. I felt the same way when I decided to go back to school.

See, I have this habit of thinking I know how my life is going to turn out. After Paul and I got married, sure, I said I wanted to go back to school, but......I didn't mean it. Really I figured I would have kids, and I'd go back later on. Much later on.

Go back to school, the little voice said.

So, I quit my job and applied to school. Know what? There was a part of me, a not so tiny part, that thought maybe now I'll get pregnant.

As I hauled my book bag out the door on my first day of school, I thought....

Oh!!! So, you actually wanted me to go back to school.....okey dokey, I think I get where you're going with this......ri-ight.

The little voice came again: put in your adoption papers, it said.

So Paul and I started the adoption process, and there it was again, that not so tiny part of me that thought......maybe now I'll get pregnant.

As we sat down on the couch in the caseworker's office I thought.....

Oh!!!! So, you actually wanted us to adopt.....alrighty, I think I get you, I dig.....we're actually supposed to do this!!!

I sat next to Paul and listened as the caseworker described the adoption process. It's complicated, more so than I had anticipated. If you adopt a baby from another state, you can't take the baby home until the proper paperwork has been filed, which usually takes at least a couple of weeks. As I envisioned camping out in a Motel 6 for two weeks while caring for a newborn, I thought about how the scenario I had been picturing didn't so much involve a complementary continental breakfast.

After the baby comes home, the process still isn't finished. The adoption has to be finalized, a process which requires hiring an adoption attorney, and while six months is usually what is expected, in New York it can be more like two years.

It wasn't all scary. There was some positive, exciting stuff too, like we're just about done with everything we need to get our paperwork finished, and could be ready to meet with birth parents as soon as April. Cue fluttering feeling in the pit of my tummy.

We walked out of the office a little dazed. We were silent; Paul took my hand. How is it possible to feel so many different emotions at the same time? Was I happy? Sad? Excited? Nervous? Stressed? Hopeful? Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

I'm feeling a little.....stressed, I said.

Me too, Paul said. Paul is sort of a fatalist. You can't take him to a playground because he's too nervous, always sees the worst case scenario. I could see the same sort of look on his face, the look like someone was too close to falling off the monkey bars.

I think everything will be fine, I said.

We'll just take it one step at a time, Paul said. No sense in worrying about everything all at once, right?

Right, right.

The thing is, even after walking out of that office faced with all the gritty details, I feel really good about this. Like there is a very specific reason we are meant to do this. There's also a part of me that thinks this is is crazy. Insane. How can this possibly work out?

Later that day, Paul brought home a package of Golden Oreos, which, I am not going to lie, are like crack to me. The package was gone within eight hours.

This might be the sugar buzz talking, but I think everything's going to be just fine.