I answered questions one by one and tried to be as clear and straightforward as I could.
Praying and hoping.
We got to the end and I hazarded the question pulsing in my brain: Am I allowed to ask? And if I'm allowed to ask, am I approved to adopt? Do you think I will be a fit parent?
She laughed and told me not to worry. If she'd been concerned about anything, she would have let me know. She would have asked more questions and asked for clarity. No, you're good. Just need time to prepare the report now.
I mean, I thought it was going well. I thought the answer was yes. I thought when she said things like "I bet you can't wait to have her home" it was a good sign. But still there's that little bit of doubt tugging at you. That little bit of fear. That little gnawing feeling you can't let go of. And I stared at Hannah's pictures newly spread all over my new home, and I thought and I prayed, "Please, Lord. Please."
There's the slow parts and then there's the fast parts of adoption.
Most is slow. Most is patience and waiting, but every once in a while everything starts to move very fast. It's thrilling and terrifying. Exciting and panicky. Joyous and overwhelming.
It's like the amusement park ride you wait in line hours for for a few moments of thrilling terror.
You draw closer to the front of the queue and you can feel the excitement begin to grow. Then you're buckling in and you can't believe you've finally made it to this point, and you're fearful of the drops and speed and twists and turns ahead. You wonder if you can actually make it through this ride. Might it possibly be too much for you? But there's no way you're backing out and no way you're getting off the ride. Not now. This is what you've been waiting for.
The last week was fast, fast.
Pulling together all the final documents, unpacking and trying to make my new place look as presentable as possible, preparing my heart and mind for the home visit.
On the other side of Saturday, all still feels fast, but I can see us coasting into the ride exit. Home study ride almost at an end. Time to stand in the queue for the dossier ride.
I must admit I love the riding part, but I am not so great at the queuing part.
Yet again back to perseverance and patience.
And I think of how Hannah* is being patient. Patient and praying and trusting every day God will answer her prayers for a "new family," a family of her very own.
I think of how we've talked about God looking for the right family for her and how the right family is better than any family.
I am so thankful for a few weeks of fast. I needed the past few weeks to keep me going and to buoy my spirits. I needed for everything to move forward one giant leap so I won't get discouraged by the tiny baby steps.
I needed to be on the ride. I needed the wind in my face and my stomach rising up into my chest and then dropping out of my body. I needed my body to be twisted and torqued. I needed a big something to help me remember the importance and the necessity of the small somethings.
There's more slow ahead and more fast. And hopefully because of the last few weeks I'm a little more prepared, a little more ready for slow.
*Hannah is a pseudonym. In order to protect her identity until she is fully and legally mine, I use "Hannah" in all online activity regarding my someday daughter and her adoption.
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Read more about our adoption story:Hannah's Prayer
Far, Far Away
Superfluous Smoke Detectors and All