Three years of not celebrating

This Sunday will be my third year of not celebrating Fathers Day.  There will be no McDonald’s breakfast that puts a smile on his face from ear to ear with an excited “oh goodie”.  There will be no opening of cards with heart felt sentiments (though I still have the card I bought him for Fathers Day 2014 early, because I loved the verse inside and never in a million years assumed he wouldn’t open it).  There will be no eye rolling on my behalf as he acts disappointed that there is no money inside even though he knows if I had money at the time I would have spent it on shoes or Makimono.  There will be no Keg dinner, telling us the Prime Rib tastes better because he didn’t pay for it.

None of this has happened for the past two years and it won’t happen this year either.  He passed away.  He left this earth – an angel – no longer in pain.  The pain is now ours.  His family who loved him.  His granddaughters who suffer with his loss and shed a tear when they remember how much they miss him; his ex-wife who has stepped up in a big way to take care of their only daughter and be everything to her that he was.  And me.  I still feel like an island, on my own most of the time to try and figure out this world without you – at the same time so angry that I have to.

At work we have a raffle for a car wash kit for father’s day.  I have been asked to buy a ticket and seen the look in my colleagues eyes when they realize I won’t be giving a gift for father’s day this year – or any year – but what they don’t realize is my father didn’t drive the last two years of his life anyway because Diabetes took his sight.  However, I do have a car and it’s filthy!  I would totally love a car wash kit and I will give myself the opportunity to win this prize because that’s an awesome prize!!!

It makes me sad to think that my child won’t have a father  –  at least not right away.  It makes me sadder though to know my child won’t have him as a grandfather!  He would have loved my child, biological or not, to the very depth of his core!  I can’t wait to tell my child stories and show them pictures, keep his memory alive for generations to come!




It takes a village

As you all know, I am currently in the process of adopting a toddler internationally.  A decision I didn’t make lightly, but one that I know in my heart and in my soul is the right decision for me.  I have never thought – not once – maybe I shouldn’t, maybe I should wait another couple of years, maybe, maybe, maybe…I just know.  I know like I need to breathe air and eat food and drink water – I know.  I know where my baby is.

***now as a side note, I have been informed that I am unable to talk on any social media forums (inc. blogs)  about the specifics of the adoption at this point from my agency and I understand that.  The child’s protection, the orphanages confidentiality and the details I am paying a great deal to learn from my agency is not for the eyes and ears of the world so I will not go into any details about particulars.

This choice, it didn’t come easy.  I had to accept that I may never have a biological child to start processing this choice.  I had to argue for my rights with a doctor to get forms signed and completed.  I had to defend my choice against critics of single motherhood (aren’t we in 2016 where women can do whatever the hell they want?).  I had to accept that the inheritance that my father left me would be gone, depleted  and pray that he would be okay with how I have chosen to spend this portion of it. I have binders of information to read through, sign and date.  I have essays to write, photo’s to take, reference letters to gather all while giving up any source of privacy because our Ontario government and the government of Haiti, need to know that I can, and desire to, and have the means to, adopt a child and raise them in a healthy, safe environment.

I am overwhelmed often.  I am tired often.  I want to scream and cry often.

But it is always worth it.  Every second spent, every line of defense I need to spew, every dollar I give is worth it.

This child is already loved – yet they might not even be born.  This child already has an aunt and an uncle and a grandmother eagerly awaiting them to arrive.  This child has surrogate aunts and uncles in my friends who have offered to help in anyway they can.  Some have offered clothing, furniture and toys, while others just can’t wait to take this amazing child to the park, or downtown exploring Toronto.  This child was born blessed as all babies are – and they are going to make me blessed in the process.

It takes a village to raise a child.  No one does it on their own.  We all rely on someone at some point for assistance and I am grateful for the chance to bring my little boy or girl home in the future and raise them among my amazing village.