Whipsaw

Things have not been going well on the adoption front.

This Monday I called my caseworker just to check in on some inquiries and wish her happy holidays. It sounded like she couldn't wait to get off the phone with me. No, nothing happening, never heard back, nope, no feedback on your homestudy, your homestudy is great, don't know what's going on, ok, bye. I call her every other week for a few minutes, it's not as if I hound her.

This sent me into a tailspin. I felt very hurt and disrespected. My husband and I had decided a while back that if nothing happened by the end of 2007 we would look into switching agencies or moving to some other kind of adoption. They've broken promises all over the place and don't bother apologizing. Some of it I blame on the people at the agency, but I know other people signed with other similar Atlanta-area agencies, and I don't know if it's much better somewhere else.

Our wait is just wrong. I've made almost 200 inquiries, mostly on boys ages five to ten, often two siblings, mild to moderate special needs, with little regard for race or ethnicity. We've applied for girls too, but there are more boys in the listings. We're not looking for a perfectly healthy baby girl. Why do these states list children for years? There are waiting parents out there as well as waiting children, but I guess the resources to match them are just not there. I've blamed a lot of things. Sometimes I've wondered if my race is a factor. Several other people say it almost certainly isn't, but it could be something in the background, as subtle as the workers looking at a picture of my husband and I and a child and having a passing thought that there are just one or two too many colors all together there in that picture, and then moving on to the next family.

The dominant reason is probably that this interstate matching system is chaotic and sucks, combined with my agency losing workers and being understaffed after the dual exodus a few months ago.

A lot of my mental energy this week has gone into trying not to feel sorry for myself and break out crying. This holiday season is very hard. Thank goodness I have a vacation lined up. We can't afford a real one but I worked out a great substitute. We got a last-minute frequent flyer mile ticket because we were willing to take a red-eye on Christmas Day. We'll be staying at my dad's retirement studio apartment in Hawaii. It's in a cheap, very non-touristy location and there won't be much to do except for relaxing and eating incredible seafood. My dad will be away in Japan. We've had an open invitation to stay there for years, but tickets to Hawaii are so expensive we haven't been able to take advantage of the offer until now.

Anyway, I thought we would be a family with children by now, facing a whole new set of joys and challenges. Instead, I feel like a year of my life has been sucked into a vortex. Last December I was happy and excited about the future. I had a huge amount of trust and respect for everyone at our agency. Now, I just feel sad and tired... so tired.

This week I've started calling up other agencies and contemplating a switch to foster-to-adopt. This would involve massive amounts of paperwork and be a huge emotional and mental change. With the route we're on right now -- "straight" adoption -- once a post-TPR child is placed, there is very little chance that they would be removed. All other avenues have already been explored and exhausted. The process is fairly smooth: placement, extended supervision, adoption finalization. Changing to the foster-to-adopt route, we would be expected to foster until we adopt. Perhaps our first child would be the one we adopted. Perhaps the first child would be reunified after one month. Perhaps an aunt or uncle would come forward after six months. We wouldn't know. There are many more children through this route and a great need for homes.

My husband and I feel the same way. We don't know if we can do it but we'd be willing to try. In theory, being part of a child's life while their family goes through a rough patch and then helping them reunite is something I support 100%. But in practice, how would it affect me? I don't know. Maybe I could do it, maybe it would kill me.

Here's a great resource: a transcript from a chat session called "Foster Care to Adoption: What Is It Like?". This part struck me.

Brea [foster care adoption social worker]: I would advise parents who are considering adoption to explore all of their options, with fostering-to-adopt being one among them. I don't think that fostering-to-adopt is for those who are going to be first-time parents. I would encourage someone in the position of not having any children and wanting to adopt to choose a route that will entail less risk.

If we did foster-to-adopt, I like to think I could send back a child with grace and compassion. What if I went crazy and acted badly? I can see why experienced parents who already have a child would be much better at this. Also, the idea of "testing the waters" before jumping into adoption is difficult for me to comprehend emotionally. I would feel terrible for not fully committing from the beginning. I know people who have done this and I understand the risks and rewards. I'm not ruling it out yet. But contemplating a switch is difficult.

I've been calling some local agencies and our county DFCS. Of course it's almost impossible to get to anyone on the phone. I keep getting put on endless hold, given the wrong number, sent to the wrong voicemail. Why does this have to suck so hard? It's clear what's wrong and how to fix it.

Then this morning I got a short email from my caseworker. We've made it to round two on a little boy from out of state we applied for back in July. There'll be a meeting next week where she'll present our case. This is the most progress we've made anywhere, on any inquiry.

I emailed her back thanking her. I dug up the profile again and looked at the picture of the boy, and then put my head on my desk and started crying.

I don't know what to do anymore. I feel slightly hopeful but mostly lost and weak. I guess we'll wait some more.