Adoption Preparation Course (Part 1)

Did it and survived! We spent 2 1/2 hours this evening at our adoption agency, starting our preparation course. And it wasn't as bad as I/we expected.

We turned up at 6.30 to be met by 3 social workers, usually it would only be 2 but one is attending for the experience as she is new to the agency. There are 9 of us on the course - 4 couples (including us) and 1 single women. The single women has a birth child as does one of the couples. I think the other 2 couples are like us - without any birth children. We have been told that we will have the opportunity to learn more about our paths to adoption on Friday.

When we started - following the usual speech about fire escapes, toilets, drinks, and general other stuff - we had to find out 4 facts about someone else, and introduce them to the group. I was paired up with GI - who bizarrely used to teach Maths at my school (he left just before I arrived) - he now works in one of our nearest neighbouring schools! We talked about teaching; our schools; where we live; his birth son. I was then able to introduce him to the rest of the group - although we did get side tracked from the job talking about teaching...

Once everyone had introduced someone else we watched a video about the process of adoption. It was a department of health video, which is about 8 years old. It showed a cross section of people, and they talked about their experience of the process. The preparation course, the home study (and their social workers), approval panel and then matching. I think the key thing I picked up from this - which was more reinforcement than anything else was the fact that your social worker gets to really know you, all the things that you don't normally talk about - you will have to discuss.

We talked as a group about our hopes and fears about adoption. It was reassuring that we all had similar fears - about the process, about the issues an adopted child might have, attachment to an adopted child, but equally similar hopes - to feel complete as a family and learn how to be a 'good enough' parent. M commented that he feels less isolated with worries now.

We discussed the importance of names; how different people got their names; why names mean so much; the fact that often a name is the only thing that an adopted child may get from their birth family and how our names make us individual.

We talked about why children need adopting... not going to repeat that list here at the moment!

We finished with a questionnaire - with lots of facts and figures. In some respects M and I knew enough - but there were things that I didn't know. Things like how many children waiting for adoption are part of sibling groups (55% in the UK).

It was a good evening. I think M and I are both reassured by the smallness of the group - we are both likely to sit back and listen in a large group of people - with only 9 people including us, there is no-where to hide, but also we will get to know these people quickly. I wouldn't go as far to say that I am looking forward to the full day that is happening on Friday - but I'm certainly not dreading it like I was this evening. Although Friday might be more difficult as we are going to meet and have a talk from a birth mother!

And we have some homework reading to do!!! M has already said he will take it to work to read at lunchtime!

Oh and as a final thought - no role plays; just discussion - hurrah!

Hope

I had such a moment of clarity on Christmas Eve. I went to a Church Service, and I sat with my alternative family - my pseudo Mum & Dad, my pretend sister and her family. And I realised that, that moment will reflect the rest of my life. I may not share genetics with my future child/ren but they will be my family.

I have hope again, something that has been missing for a while. I have a future family. It may not happen in a traditional manner (although we bypassed traditional a while again), but we will have a family.

Christmas Wishes

I wish you joy,
I wish you hope,
I wish you peace,
Merry Christmas to all of you.

Yesterday I went to see my friend R. I sat and she baked and we chatted. We chatted about how much had changed in the past 12 months (for her as well as for me). She commented about how much more at peace I seem. And that what I wish for you all, peace.

Empathy skills for cabbages...

It's been a long week - filled with high and low moments... I've been thinking over this post since Monday. Today I'm making time to post it!


It's okay not to know what to say. 'Sorry to hear that' might not feel like a good thing to say, but at least you are acknowledging that there is an issue.

Sometimes it really is better to say nothing - words however well meant, can cause offence when someone isn't ready to hear them. A smile or a touch (or a hug virtual or otherwise) can say 'I'm thinking about you'.

Acknowledge that you can't possibly understand how the other person is feeling, because we can't live in someone else's head. Do, however, make sure that you try to understand that the person you are dealing with may be hurting, angry or upset, and therefore may not be entirely rational.

Realise that grief isn't something that is short term, and even when someone has a good day it doesn't mean that they are 'over it'. It will probably come back at some inappropriate moment.

If the person you are talking to wants to talk, listen to them. They want to talk, they probably don't need to hear your opinion, or what you would do in that situation.

Equally, if that person, that yesterday wanted to talk, doesn't today, accept that as their decision. Sometimes it is too hard to talk, sometimes it's better to not think about the things that cause the pain.

Let them know that you think they are doing okay. When you are living in pain (for whatever reason) it can be lonely. It's difficult to think straight, and sometimes self-belief and self-confidence go AWOL. Let them know that they are doing okay, because they might not know that.

Understand that you might not be the person they need to talk to at that time. Don't take it personally, just let them know that you are there, ready and waiting if they do need to talk to you at some other time.

Let them know that you care, in small ways or in big ways - it doesn't matter. But letting someone know that you care, that they matter is important for the other person.



I'm sure that there is more that I ought to add... in fact... if you have an empathy skill that you'd like to share, why don't you add it in the comments, for no other reason, but that you can.

Don't Miss the Boat

I've just found out about this little story, it's come from an adoption forum that I've started looking at. It says so much, I hope you enjoy it.

Don't Miss the Boat (author unknown)

Deciding to have a baby is like planning a trip to Australia. You've heard it's a wonderful place, you've read many guidebooks and feel certain you're ready to go. Everyone you know has traveled there by plane. They say it can be a turbulent flight with occasional rough landings, but you can look forward to being pampered on the trip.

So you go to the airport and ask the ticket agent for a ticket to Australia. All around you excited people are boarding planes for Australia. It seems there is no seat for you, you'll have to wait for the next flight. Impatient, but anticipating a wonderful trip, you wait... and wait... and wait.

Flights to Australia continue to come and go. People say silly things like, "Relax. You'll get on a flight soon." Other people actually get on a plane and then cancel their trip, to which you cry, "It's not fair!"

After a long time the ticket agent tells you, "I'm sorry, we're not going to be able to get you on a plane to Australia. Perhaps you should think about going by boat."

"By BOAT!" you say. "Going by boat will take a very long time and it costs a great deal of money. I really had my heart set on going by plane." So you go home and think about not going to Australia at all. You wonder if Australia will be as beautiful if you approach it by sea rather than air. But you have long dreamed of this wonderful place, and finally you decide to travel by boat.

It is a long trip, many months over many rough seas. No one pampers you. You wonder if you will ever see Australia. Meanwhile, your friends have flown back and forth to Australia two or three more times, marveling about each trip.

Then one glorious day, the boat docks in Australia. It is more exquisite than you ever imagined, and the beauty is magnified by your long days at sea. You have made many wonderful friends during your voyage, and you find yourself comparing stories with others who also traveled by sea rather than by air.

People continue to fly to Australia as often as they like, but you are able to travel only once, perhaps twice. Some say things like, "Oh be glad you didn't fly. My flight was horrible; traveling by sea is so easy."

You will always wonder what it would have been like to fly to Australia. Still, you know God blessed you with a special appreciation of Australia, and the beauty of Australia is not in the way you get there, but in the place itself.

Show-and-tell: The end of an era...

I've been sitting looking at the bits in this photo for days; I cleaned my fridge out earlier this week, and I knew that these were in there, but I had become blind to them. But it seems fitting to take a photo, before I dispose of them. The end of one chapter, the start of another.


The injectables that I haven't yet got rid off - 7 years of infertility, 7 IVF/ICSI cycles reduced to 2 preloaded syringes of Orgalutran, 1 Puregon pen with some Puregon still inside it and 2 needles and finally 1 ampule of Pregnyl (hCg trigger shot) that I didn't use. It's not very much to represent so much heart ache and so many tears.

And I know it's not a clear picture - but taking it reduced me to tears. Because even though I know that we are doing the right thing by moving on to adoption, I am still sad that I will never, ever get to be pregnant. One of those things that you take for granted growing up - that you will get pregnant and have children - won't ever come true for me. And I've had plenty of people tell me that pregnancy isn't so great - but I would have liked the opportunity to find that out for myself.


I will take them to the hospital next time I go, and ask them to dispose of them. Clearing the infertility drugs from my fridge seems like such a huge step for such a tiny job. But they will go and I will re-focus on the path in front of me.

Don't forget to visit Mel's to see who else is taking part in Show-And-Tell this week.

shadows of darkness...

It's strange to think that this time last year I had just had my last fresh ICSI cycle and returned to work with yet another negative. It's strange to think about that passing of time, which in some respects seems such a long time, but equally has passed in the blink of an eye.

It's come back to me today, because I've been running around so busy for the past few weeks, and then today, although I should have been busy preparing for next year, I was distracted and not getting on. And I was thinking back to last year at this time, the fact that I'd returned to work before I was ready to cope, and that I although there were some good things that happened (giving up my responsibility was the best decision I made in all that pain), it was an awful time.

I've been looking back today for a couple of reasons; one I was discussing camera's with a colleague and friend at work, and knew that I had some pictures on my blog that demonstrated what I wanted to show her, so logged in. Which obviously started a conversation about the blog, which I said was my way of coping and that not many people who actually know me (IRL) are allowed to read it. Hopefully because I explained it was infertility this and infertility that she won't go looking for it and if she does I don't think she'll find it anyway. She's not that sort of person - and if she ever should find the blog and reads this, I hope she'll tell me, or at least not tell anyone else.

The second reason was because I was sat with a good friend of mine who is pregnant for a second time chatting. And we were talking about our old deputy who used to be such a comfort to both of us (her first baby is a clomid & met baby) who I saw recently and whilst I was chatting he admitted that the reason he understood so well was that his daughter was going through the same thing.

All of which (coupled with the hormones) has made me more melancholy than I wanted to be. And I can't help but reflect on the hope that I had then, and the fact that I am working to accept that I will never have our genetic child. We will push on, but I think I have to accept that every so often there will be a shadow of darkness. That whilst I am doing ok (well even) on a day to day basis - that sometimes it will all be a little too much, that there will be times when I need to sit and cry for what might have been.

But I shall look forward, a holiday followed by the gentle movement forwards on our adoption journey hopefully.