In January of this year, soon after Josiah turned one, we signed on with a new adoption agency. We had tried a few months on our own to advertise ourselves with zero results and I was becoming increasingly concerned and impatient. I jumped when I found an agency that was slightly less expensive than our previous one and gladly paid the large upfront payment after reading through their encouraging statistics and positive vibe.
We were the perfect potential adoptive parents, having our home study already completed, working tirelessly to get our profile completed in record time; she said motivated couples usually took a month, we were done in two weeks. We followed their suggestions. We made it upbeat, exciting and "unique" to us. We avoided sounding at all desperate or like adoption on our end was hard.
We made our video, smiles plastered on our faces as we glossed over infertility and right into the excitement and hope of becoming parents.
Per their suggestion we avoided featuring Josiah much in the video. He is too young, they said, birth mothers may not like seeing us with another baby in the house. So, still smiling, we barely mentioned the son that literally is the most important thing in my life.
So we focused on music and athleticism instead, because those things made us "unique" they said. Pictures of me running races and Jim riding his bike. Posed pictures of me playing instruments, of us sitting on our couch playing the guitar. A posed picture of Jim sitting on our piano bench playing his electric guitar, not plugged in. We took my parents to the nature park to have my dad catch shots of us walking down the path, playing on the benches (because, you know, we so frequently go to the nature park to jump on the benches). We invited friends over to take posed pictures of us playing board games-- we actually played the board game and had a wonderful time, but the pictures were staged. We had a neighbor come over to capture us casually picking apples from the apple tree I have neglected since we moved here and play with our dog in the front yard even though he is rarely allowed to play in the un-fenced front yard.
We described our lovely small town and how close we are to big cities even though we hardly get to the big cities. We talked about the lake, even though we rarely visit. We talked about how absolutely excited everyone in our life is to see us adopt, even though the excitement has worn off significantly since this is round number two.
We smiled, the pitch of our voices raised for excitement.
We made a facebook page. We were encouraged not to talk about how hard the wait is, but to just share our lives-- positively. So I post pictures of the happy times of cookie baking and festivals and avoid posting the flooring torn up after the fridge leak. I think of fun facts about our family to share and make videos of things that are happy.
And it is real. We are genuinely smiling in every picture and everything I share is genuinely a good thing in our lives. We may have been faking the apple picking, but we were enjoying our time together and laughing at ourselves for ridiculous posing. When I say I can't wait to have another child and give Josiah a sibling I'm not kidding. The thought of it actually happening brings a thrill up my spine and a lightness to my heart.
And it is fake. I am constantly considering and reconsidering what I post with concern about how happy it appears. I don't smile often when the camera is put away. If I were able to be completely honest to potential birth mothers, I would tell them that I am hurting for another child. I would tell them that left alone with my thoughts for even a second my eyes fill with tears. I would tell them that if I don't pay attention to myself carefully I can easily start to feel panic set in. I would tell them that I don't really trust my agency and I'm kicking myself for pushing Jim to sign up with them. I would tell them that when the adoption tax credit was potentially on the chopping board I worried that we would never be able to pay back my parents for the loan to adopt baby number 2. I would tell them that I'm really scared that we will never be chosen again. I would tell them that there have been days when I have felt the crushing weight of rejection knowing that if our agency is doing their job, dozens of women have not chosen us.
And it wasn't unique. Just days after our profile featured on our agencies Facebook page, another couple was pictured sitting on their couch, playing guitars. Not long after, another couple was shown picking apples. We are so "unique" that we are the same. Most every couple describes themselves as athletic or active, and often they are musical. It's hard to pull yourself away from the pack when you only have 1500 words to describe yourself.
Being a potential adoptive parent is an honest endeavor. It is also a bit of a lie. We put our best face forward, hoping someone likes what they see. We don't dare show how scared we are, how hurt, how disappointed. So we smile, as genuinely as we can, and we save our tears for our desperate pleas to God that He answers us soon.
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