Seasons of wait

When I see friends whom I haven’t talked to in awhile, the standard first question is “how was your summer?”  I don’t have much to say other than – “alright”.  I went to the cottage, spent time with friends and family and waited.  Waited for reports to be finished and most recently (since the beginning of August) waited to be approved as ADOPT READY.  This has been another really long wait.  I know being a mom will require patience and understanding, but testing me through long wait periods of documents being signed and approved isn’t really helping me!

Once I am ADOPT READY, I can submit my dossier to my agency, have everything translated, give them a kidney and possibly a lung to cover the costs and THEN finally have my documents sent to HAITI.  Sadly, this is when the longest wait will be.  I will possibly wait a year or more to be matched with a child.  A year or more of my baby growing up in the Creche (Orphanage).  A year or more of possible Hurricanes destroying his/her land.  A year or more of them not knowing who their mother is.  Not knowing how needed and loved and wanted they are.

The wait is painful.  The only thing that makes is bearable is knowing that my child is there waiting for me too.  They need me to be patient.  They need me to relax and be calm and have my ducks in a line.  They need me to be healthy.  They need me to have my finances all in order.  They need me.  For them I will wait.  For them, and only them, I will take a breath today and accept that waiting is part of the process.  I will suffer through more seasons – fall, winter, spring and summer – with the faith that when everything is right and the stars have aligned – my turn will come.  I will get to be a mommy.  For now I will read the blogs, I will chime in on the numerous Facebook groups dedicated to adoption and I will wait.




My Top 5 reasons I am going to hate moving

 Since my last attempt at blogging was regarding why I am SO excited to move to Ajax, I figured it’s only fair to express my opinions on why moving away from my childhood home in Scarborough is going to be gut wrenching: 

  1. It is my childhood home – I am familiar with every ounce of that home.  I know all its nooks and crannies.  Nothing about the house surprises or scares me.  I have a memory for every room and all of its free space.  Whether it be screaming downstairs when I was a young child because my brother turned off the lights on me, or lying on the couch in the living while my brother poured Ketchup on my head (again which resulted in my screaming), I can walk blindfolded through this house and not hit anything.  It is familiar and comfortable and I strongly dislike change.  
  2. My neighbours are my second family – there are a handful of neighbours who have lived on the street for an extremely long amount of time and whose families I have integrated into.  These people have seen me at my best and my worst. I have befriended their children, tutored their children, and experienced life with them and their children.  They have watched out for me on numerous occasions, whether it be when my mom left and my dad was raising me on his own, or 20 years later when my dad passed away, leaving me lost and confused.  They know things about me that I probably don’t even know and if EVER a man pulls up into the driveway or stays the night – they know about it!  They gossip like little old ladies and I love it because sometimes it’s not about me and I get to know more about them this way! 
  3. My brother and I and his three children all attended the same elementary and middle schools just down the street from my house and my children won’t.  The history dies off with my youngest niece who graduates from the middle school this coming June.  I know some of the teachers, I know some of the kids that go to these schools and now my kids will start new schools where everything is unfamiliar. 
  4. Changing my address is a pain in the ass. When I moved in with my ex for a year, I changed everything over, knowing him and I would be together forever and in that apartment for at least a couple of years before getting engaged and buying a home together.  Well, clearly that didn’t work out and I had to move home again.  I had to change everything twice!  Besides just my driver’s license and health card, I have to change all my bills; I have to change all my online accounts, my bank info, my address with work and my pension.  I have to give the new address to all my friends and family.  All the fast food delivery places have my address and phone number associated with each other and now I have to change that!  It’s annoying!  I also am going to have my mail for me and my dad forwarded to the new address so I know who I need to change, people I have forgotten.  It’s not hard – and I am not complaining, but it’s a pain. 
  5. This is the house where my dad kept me safe and protected.  Whether coming home for a week in my first year of University because I was so homesick I thought I wouldn’t survive or running in to my dad’s open arms when my ex left our relationship as quickly as he had jumped into it, it was my home.  Both my brother and I knew we could land safely here when the world knocked us down.   Not having this home is scary.  To give it to someone who may not love it like we do is scary.  

Life is scarier now.  That’s okay though.  It’s worth it.  Change can be good, and if it’s not – I don’t have that house to fall back on anymore so I better learn to make the best of the situation!