Hi, it’s been a long time I did not write.

After the first excitement/sense of achievement from finalising our file, I started to feel anxious, nervous and irritated.

So I sat. Legs crossed on my yoga mat. Mind, at times glued to my little-ego-navel and at other times, flying, somewhere free and far, observing what is going on in my cramping heart.

Oh well, there it was, the child I once dreamt of. This “child of my dreams” has been playdoughed in many shapes, forms, colors , races and faces. I came to realise, loss after loss, that I can indeed love a child, made of my genes+my bio+my husband’s genes, my husband’s+a donor’s genes+my bio, a girl, a boy, made of my husband’s genes+a donor’s genes+a surrogates bio, a brown, yellow, white or mixed coloured child: it does somehow not matter, it still and magically remained: “the child I dream of”.

In other words, I gave up things & at the same time I hang on to other things: those things I find essential; like mental and physical health, then intelligence and beauty etc …. . But. The first thing that “attacked” “the child I dream of”  is this report on International adoption, written by a team of doctors. Although I did read some books about international adoption and all the “unknowns” and not always so ethical situations involved, the reality of international adoption, from a strictly medical perspective, hit me big time. According to that team of adoption doctors, no one single adoption report is truthful, things are intentionally not mentioned, lied about or accidentally wrong; a lab is just not good enough to determine whether a blood sample is contaminated by AIDS, a developmental pead. did not have a birth history to know if  the baby  lacked oxygen at birth, and will suffer from mental retardation, to make an informed report, (often time not knowing when and where the baby was born and in what circumstances but that is another story all together, not covered by said medical report). The examples given in said report where so hard: a couple who where told their child was “100%” mentally healthy, but was actually found to be autistic (the mother herself had recognized some autistic features pre-adoption and had consulted the orphanage psychologist about it, who denied it), another case of known mental retardation called “temporary social retardation from lack of stimulation”, etc. etc. …. Scary stuff. That “child I dream of” is so strong to have survived for so long already, motivated me to overcome soo many obstacles and hurdles and yet so vulnerable at the same time.

Then, as I wanted to benefit from the nice sales and get one or two cute baby items, I realized that I still so much want and dream of having a small baby. The age gap we applied for is 0 to 2 year, which is the youngest category. But 2-year-old is really different that 6-months-old, right. Right ?

Finally, once the cramp in my heart had subsided and my crossed legs started to ache, my mind wandered into an orphanage, somewhere in Ethiopia and imagined what a/our little baby/2 year old would feel when we will come and pick her/him up, lovingly taking him away from the few familiar faces and routines ? Speaking about being vulnerable, trust and surrendering. … !

So breath in, breath out, there is anyway nothing I can DO about any of the above fears but connecting to Life, remaining open for all the joy and beauty my child will bring, surprises good and bad. A bit like when you eat, you can control what you eat and choose those things that you like to eat or food items that go well with your digestion but you cannot control digestion itself. It just happens while you do complete different things. Call it God, Nature, the Universe or Providence, there is a Process at work. Connecting with it, one breath at a time, I stood up, trust shining timidly through the thick clouds of fear. A Process at work, that of becoming a parent = letting go of dream child, embracing real child ?

Parents, your input pleaaaaase

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