jaysaint Getting it all down on paper…

I got divorced about 10 years ago. David and I had what I imagine is about the most amicable divorce possible. Which is to say it was utterly shattering, but that I don’t think either of us ever felt hateful toward one another. We’d been friends before, and felt that we should be friends again. And we were for a long time.

I won’t get into divorce drama here, but I think David would not disagree with the idea that he wasn’t prepared to live up to the role of a husband. And while that sucked that he discovered that after he married me, I could forgive him.

So many years go by and we’re maintaining a friendship that is infrequent in contact but intimate. When I was sick once he overnighted a huge box of tissues, medicine and soup to me in Atlanta.

Sometimes when I called him he didn’t call me back. And that was fine with me. If I ever left him a message that said, “I need you to call me” then he would. At least he did. But then he stopped. I left quite a few messages, increasing in intensity and concern. Nothing. So I guess that means he isn’t prepared to live up to the role of friend either.

A high school friend told me he was getting married. Maybe that’s why. I can even understand it. While it isn’t something I would do, I don’t think a woman is crazy if she asks her new husband to sacrifice his friendship with his ex wife. It’s just a guess, though. I don’t think at this point I’ll ever know. It’s been more than a year since David and I have talked.

Now I’m mad. Now I resent him. I think I might have higher standards for my friends than I do my romantic partners. I think because it’s so hard to be someone’s romantic partner. The whole arrangement seems to be, honestly, one set up for trouble. With friends there’s a little more air. So, really there isn’t any excuse for the important friendships to fail.

I wonder if David would be surprised to know that the ex-wife who embraced him so warmly is the same woman who would now feel a surge of joy at the chance to throw sand in his eyes.

Plus, his very existence is what’s gumming up our adoption. I was already mad, but that really made me hate his guts.

**Disclaimer: I know some folks don’t know me so well. Yes, I’m married. And nothing above should be taken as doubt about the future of my partnership with Damon. I love him. I’d do whatever it takes to keep him. And I’d kill him before I let him leave me.

So… tomorrow I’m going by our doctor’s office to pick up the perscriptions so wrote for fertility tests.

I have mixed feelings about all of this, down to writing about it here. We’re not planning on discussing this with anyone, including our families. And yet I feel like I need to get it out somewhere. So, special filter friends, I’ll do it here and thank you for your patience.

We’re still going all out on the adoption. But what felt like a sure thing, even at a long wait, has shifted to feel like something entirely different. I believe that, barring disaster, we’ll get our dossier in just under the wire. But because of the final rush of dossiers we’ll be lucky if the wait is under two years. And that’s putting aside the fact that at any point China could decide to wash out the non-qualifying families who are waiting.

So we feel like we need to address the issue on more than one front. And thus back to the doctor.

I don’t want to get fertility tests. I hate being fooled with. I feel defeated before I even start. It’s not that I have any fear of doctors, per se. I have no problem with needles, I’m usually able to handle various discomforts, I’m not shy. I just find the whole medical process to be dehumanizing, deflating, humiliating… the whole lot. I’m sure part of this stems from intermittent pancreatic problems that I’ve had for more than a decade. I’ve been in and out of emergency rooms with sudden and horribly painful “episodes” and have been prodded all which ways, with absolutely no positive results. And I firmly believe that the reason there’s been no good diagnosis or solution is because the red tape rigamarole that sends me to various specialists, labs and far outposts of medical science can’t coordinate fast enough to figure out what’s wrong. So the thought of donning the scratchy paper gowns for whatever these stranger doctors want to put me through just makes every muscle seize and my brain go “no no no no no no no no no no.”

But. I’m going to do it. Because even less appealing than all of the above is doing nothing and feeling like we’re completely at the mercy of fate. Which we are. But we’ll be happier and more likely to stay sane if there’s something we can DO. This is something we can do.

All y’all (as I loved to say when I lived in Georgia) left such lovely supportive comments, so I’ll thank everybody right here. It helps.

I have to take comfort in the idea that if it can be done then we can do it. And if it can’t be done, then we’ll just have to do something else. (If this all falls through, you may have to remind me that I said that.)

I’m hoping to have a very frank conversation with our agency tomorrow.

In the meantime, if anyone sees a baby up for grabs — snag it for me.

It’s been an eventful 24 hours, at least emotionally. Practically, I haven’t much left the living room.

The short version:
There have been rumored changes coming in the Chinese adoption requirements. We honestly haven’t given them much thought, as we’re safely in the age, health and salary requirements. Every hint of change has been regarding things that wouldn’t affect us. Yesterday we learned what looks like it will be the official new requirements list — I’d say it’s a 90 % lock. And we’re affected. Or rather, I’m affected. One of the new rules is that any person with a prior divorce would have to be in his or her current marriage for five years. Damon and I have been married for almost a year and a half. Not even close. My first marriage was finished over 10 years ago, and yet here it is in my lap. So. It’s likely that the requirements will change on May 1. Anyone safely logged into China by then will be exempted. Which means we’d have to have all our paperwork into our agency by April 1 for critical review and translation. If everything goes as it should, we’ll be able to do that. But. One hiccup with immigration, one document lost in the mail, one smudged set of fingerprints, and we could roll past the deadline. And then there’s nowhere to go. We will have spent thousands of dollars and half a year, and it will all go away.

I know we could try another country. Or adopt domestically. Or try fertility treatments. And we probably would get our acts together and do one of those things. But we will have spent half our adoption money trying for China, and none of that comes back. And we will have spent well more than half of our sanity and backbone getting through the arduous China adoption process. So when I contemplate what it would take to start trying something new I feel far — like galaxies away — from being able to do that.

Steadfast Damon has reminded me that we cannot afford to panic right now. And he’s right. And there’s still a very real chance we can get this done. I hate that it’s mostly not in our control — we can’t make US Immigration move any faster. But that doesn’t mean they won’t come through for us.

I just… we chose China because we thought it would be so solid, so reliable. For that, we were willing to endure the endless wait and the expensive and extensive process. The most important element is that we never wanted to feel like our adoption was in jeopardy. As our social worker said, “God bless the communists, they’re totally predictable.” This is why I think I’m having such a hard time getting my equilibrium back.

This post is a bit raw. And I hope it doesn’t seem like I’m feeling sorry for myself. Even if I totally am. Everyone here has been so lovely about our various attempts to get a kid. I did want to write this as honestly as I could.

Jeremy and Ashley are back home. Dad is back home. We’ve got our apartment all to ourselves again.

It sounds a little insincere since I’m so happy to be guest-free, but we really did enjoy having everyone here. Damon and Jeremy are very close, so they’re always happy when they’re together. And even when my dad is a pain in the ass I still love him. To his immense credit, he was really pleasant the whole time. He got snippy with a docent at the Natural History Museum for a few minutes, but otherwise was well behaved. And anyway, she got hers back by making him wait about 45 minutes before she got around to walking us past bathrooms. We had a funny conversation in the gift shop. He found a little onesie with an alligator on it that says, “Lunch Is On Me.” Dad said (Here’s where I buried the lede: We’ve decided to name our baby, whenever she does get here, Camille). Anyway, Dad said, “Do you think Camille would like this?” And I said, “I think there’s a good chance that Camille will be too big for that by the time she gets to us.” And he said, “Well *I* think Camille would like this.” So now it’s safely tucked away. I figure that I’ll cram her into it at least once, even if I have to cut the bottom and the arms off.

Not that any of that will happen any time soon. But we’re ready, now that we have that onesie.

I didn’t miss work while off for a week, but I feel pretty comfortable to be back. Near the end of the day today I finally got to the bottom of my inbox, which means I’ll have a sane final two days of this week. A great lesson that this job is teaching me is that lots of things are important, but nothing is really an emergency — no matter how how everyone else is acting.

I also got free cheese sandwich today in a meeting, so that was an extra bonus.

Here’s my new challenge, which will last until I get it right or the leftovers run out: I’m trying to find that knife edge where I’ve got a piece of cold pizza in the skillet when the crust has reach maximum crunch but before it burns and turns black. Tonight I was not successful, but we’ve got three pieces left.