So what you're saying, in a nutshell, is that I really can't plan for anything until wee-Bug is home? Well damn! That completely throws a wrench in my plan-making plan. I am Stephanie, super calafragalistic expee-aladocious anal retentive girl, remember? No plan? I have to go with the flow? What? Hunh?That's an aneurysm waiting to happen People.
You realize what this means, right? It insinuates some sort of "maternal instinct" will be necessary. To date I don't believe said maternal instincts are a part of my DNA pattern. I am challenged in the maternal skills department.
You see I'm not particularly fond of children. I'm assuming I will love my own or I wouldn't be putting myself through this very unique torture, but in general I find children to be ewwww, so I've never really hung around them much. Sure I did some babysitting as a youngster but it was older kids, kids who were established in the fine art of walking and bathroom activities, they were able to say "excuse me ma'am, would it be a terrible inconvenience for you to make me some dinner?" No guessing required.
To say I am a smidge worried about this lacking of, shall we say mommy-ness, would be a gross understatement. I am downright scared to the core- keep me up at night- anxiety attack- "what the hell am I doing?" scared. Compassion and empathy can only take you so far in the baby game. There will be a time when feeding, diaper changing and playing will have to occur and I understand cocktails before play time is in poor taste.
There have been times in this limbo period where I have seriously questioned my decision. Occasionally I'll have flashes of my future life and whether these flashes are good or bad, they frighten me. My life, my life with my sweet husband will never be the same after Bug enters our lives. It's the ultimate leap of faith; travel to a foreign country and be handed a child who is a stranger to you. Take this child and raise her as your own, love and protect her. Promise that you will always be there for her, teach her and guide her. But most importantly, be patient with her and yourself. Scary stuff. And I see the big picture in this, that ultimately my job will be to raise an emotionally and spiritually strong woman, confident in who she is. A woman who is not afraid, much unlike her mother.
Her mother. I will be her mother. Weird.
Part of the reason I think I've been on this hell-bent for knowledge kick is because I've always taken a great amount of comfort in information. If something frightened or worried me, research it! Learn as much as you can because it's only the unknown that's scary. It's only now dawning on me that no matter how much I read, regardless of the topic I become fluent in, it's all unknown and it always will be unknown. I will never be perfect at this mothering thing. I will not know what's going to come next. There is really no way to prepare myself for what's about to happen. That's a big pill to swallow for someone like me. I'm actually jealous of those waiting families who feel nothing but excitement and anticipation. I wonder how they do that?
Oh yeah, they go with the flow.
But raising her is only part of the worry. What about my marriage? We are still truly happy with each other after 20 years. I imagine we're a lot like other people who adopt, we're hoping that this little girl will enrich our lives. Yet I can't help but worry it will jeopardize my wonderful life with Mark, although I have no basis for this worry. It is what we want after all, a child, a daughter. I know, it's another you're going to have to go with the flow scenarios. Is nothing in this process absolute?
Somehow, and maybe as the time grows closer, or maybe when I see her picture, I must shed this anxiety. I don't want to be an anxious parent. I want to be a comfortable, maternal instinct mommy.
Are you sure there aren't any instructions anywhere?