Saturday, September 19th, 2009
G’s father will not be signing the papers. Today he had a visit scheduled with G and served J papers saying he is suing her for custody of G. His timing could not be worse for deciding to give a shit.
I don’t know what to do with myself. I am wandering around the house with my hands splayed and shaking. Helpless. Lost. Hollow. That is how I’m feeling. After having something to plan for, I am back to nothing. I am in shock. How could this have happened twice in a row? How is it possible that there is yet another little boy out there who was almost ours but now never will be? Another little boy whose fate I will always wonder about? How is it possible after all the ways this fell into place, all the ways it was perfect, after the daily conversations with his mother, and the incredible level of comfort between us, that it was all for nothing?
I made D call the adoption facilitator, to tell them to take the word “Matched” off our photo on their website, and the lawyer, to tell us to send back the portion of our money that isn’t gone forever. I made him take G’s photo off the fridge.
I haven’t called my mother yet. D hasn’t called anyone yet either. It is so much worse this time. So many people were so excited. So many told us they had a feeling it was right. People thought G was going to be their grandson, nephew, cousin. How do you face disappointing all those people when you’re falling apart yourself?
I thought our luck was changing. We joked that we’d get G and get pregnant in the same month. Ha f’ing ha.
What do we do now? How do we go through this again? The stress of the first phone conversation, the first meeting, the photographs, the spikes of joy amidst the drama, the waiting – oh, the waiting. Only now that it has failed twice, how do we trust? How do we fall in love with yet another child, bond with another birthparent, with these two failures behind us?
Better yet, how do we continue waking, working, living? I hurt so much it’s almost too big to feel. The pain is a giant ball rolling over me, and I’ve only caught a glimpse of the first curve so far.
I want something to make me happy, make me forget. Maybe I should get drunk or eat an entire cake or drive to Dothan and punch G’s father in the face.
Or maybe I will lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling and let the tears leak onto the carpet.