Out of my hands

Not much to report this week. Its back to the waiting. For me, there’s been a lot of waiting in this adoption malarky, and still more to come no doubt before I’ve finished the process!

I have almost completed my portfolio for stage one and sent it all off to my SW. So now, until the 28th February, there’s almost nothing left to do. In fact I’m almost putting off completely finishing the portfolio just so it still feels like I do still have something to do!

I have had messages from a couple of my many referees to say they’ve sent off their forms, but not all. And as well as waiting for my medical form to come back from the independent assessor, I’m also waiting on my DBS form to come back. If any of the references or required forms don’t come back by the 28th, then I’ll be stuck here still in the waiting, not being able to move on until they do. This part of the process is literally out of my hands.

I have to trust that overall the timing will all work out as it should do. Even from meeting people through my prep group with the same agency I found out our journeys to that point through the process had varied. And, reading other people’s blog accounts of their journey so far makes me realise just how much it can vary. Everyone’s timescales, the speed they move through the process and the speed at which they are eventually matched varies significantly. Comparing my journey with someone else’s is utterly pointless. There are similarities and the emotional journey is probably the same, but the nuts and bolts of what happens seem to be totally different. So I know I need to be cautious about comparing my journey to other people’s, it really wont help.

And there seems to be a lot of placing things into other people’s hands – the references, the SW’s reports, panels, matching… As well as my patience, my ability to trust other people will be tested well before the end of the process!

Right now, My mantra is: It’ll all work out. There is no rush. It’ll all happen at the right time. It really is out of my hands.

The Weekly Adoption Shout Out
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The #SinglePotentialAdoptersGang

A lovely post by my new Twitter friend @PedallingSolo If you’re a single adopter, come and join our gang!

Pedalling Solo

The last hour or so has been just great. I’ve been chatting.

Yep, that’s it. Chatting. Online.

Via Twitter and a bit of blog-surfing I seem to have recently met some amazing adopters and some wonderful people who are going through the same turbulent, amazing, frustrating, promising, scary, exciting, inspiring journey as I am. In particular there seem to be a little gang of us who are all single potential adopters towards the end of Stage 1 or just into Stage 2. And this evening four of us were online all at the same time and sharing thoughts and updates (and crucially, views on chocolate; obviously).

Twitter has already shown itself, in the past few weeks, to be the host and facilitator for an amazing community. I have felt welcomed and smiled upon and grinned at and supported, in particular by experienced adopters who are many many years ahead of…

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A year on…

When I think back to this time last year, I hadn’t started the journey. I’d been packing my metaphorical bags for a while, I’d even had a false start, but beginning the journey was not even on my mind. Things were tough at work – 7 months into a new role – If I had looked forward a year on from then, I don’t think I would have imagined I would be as far into the process as I am now. It was a blog I read at the right time which spurred me on to actually take action. When I look back and think about it like that, a year ago I hadn’t even started the journey, I kind of smile to myself and really I’m glad at how far I have come.

And I’m so happy about all the people along the way so far I have ‘met’, people who have cheered me on, answered my questions, sympathised with my frustrations – who quite simply understand or want to understand this crazy world of adoption I am journeying through.

And right here and now, I’m really quite happy. Filling out my portfolio, meeting my social worker, the training… it’s all been good – it is good. I know that each step, brings me closer to the end of this path, to the summit of this mountain.

But what of a year on from now? On the way I will have negotiated my way through home study. And, if I make it that far, I will have even been to panel.

But exactly a year on from now? That I daren’t even think about. February 9th 2015, will I be matched with a child/children? Will I be waiting for a match? Will I have even been approved in the first place? When I look forward sometimes I’m excited, other times terrified, and other times both at the same time!

I really don’t know where I will be a year from now. I know where I would like to be, where I hope to be, what I would like to happen.

I really hope this blog still exists and you will know.

 

This post is part of #WASO, the Weekly Adoption Shout Out. For more great adoption blogs go to http://theadoptionsocial.com/category/weekly-adoption-shout-out/

Medical

After the SW visit yesterday I had to have my adoption medical. Now, I hate doctors. I had an accident as a young child which meant I was in hospital for a while in isolation and my earliest memories surround that incident. I presume this is where my irrational fear of doctors comes from, but I’m not really sure. Thankfully I’m never that ill to warrant a visit. I had to have a medical reference when I went to college as a teenager – it came back saying, ‘I cannot comment on any of this because I have never seen her’. Its also been a running joke with a couple of friends of mine about getting a doctor (as I didn’t have a local one in the four years I lived at my last house) and what it would take for me to visit one. So this for me this visit was a big deal.

I had a long wait before I was called in, thankfully I had the foresight to take a book to try to take my mind off it. The doctor was as nice as he could be but I think he could sense I found the whole thing deeply disturbing. His opening gambit was ‘Well, I have your notes, dating right back to 1980 in fact, but I have to say we don’t have a lot on you do we? Why is that? Do you just like to keep away from us?’ Too bloody right I do. 

So most of what he had to do was write ‘nil of note’ or ‘N/A’ in the boxes because he literally didn’t have any information. For some reason, it wanted to know what my last 4 appointments were for – he even wrote N/A on that grid because my last four appointments were as follows: 1. Just over a year ago I had pains in my leg, my mother was staying, she forced me to get a doctor and go because when I put the pain into google it suggested DVT…it wasn’t. 2. Five years ago I had sciatica 3. 17 years ago I got a skin condition on my hands and face after living in a very damp and mouldy house 4. 19 years ago I had a recurrent cough left over from a cold and then chest pains while swimming – I was diagnosed with asthma but it never came back (apart from if I encounter something I’m severely allergic to). All the other appointments listed were from my childhood. He suggested I might want to pop in to get my vaccinations up to date. 

Then he had to examine me – height, weight, blood pressure, eyes, pulse, reflexes, listen to my heart and breathing. For some reason I also had to have my hips and waist measured. I was relieved no blood had to be taken, but I did have to pee in a pot. 

All in all for normal people probably fine, but I was the colour of a beetroot by the time it had all finished and was actually shaking. The whole thing made me feel awkward, embarrassed and mildly panicky. I think I barely said more than about five words to him, because I lost the ability to speak and spent the rest of the time trying to control a nervous giggle I seemed to have developed instead. As soon as I got out I felt the need to text friends to tell them I actually made it through and survived!

But it also reminded me of something important. The things that happen to us even when we are tiny, that we can barely remember, can leave emotional wounds that can stay with us long after the physical scars have faded. In that doctors surgery I felt like I almost became that 2 year old again who was rushed to hospital almost 35 years ago. Terrified, panicking and in pain as doctors prodded and poked her. And if its true for me, then its likely to also be true for any child that I adopt – early childhood experiences can stay with us for life.