The Dichotomy of Dating and Adoption: the conclusion

The dichotomy of dating and adoption basically sucks; I’m not sure it works at all and I’m doubting my sanity and even attempting it in the first place. Having met someone who seems absolutely lovely, thoughtful, intelligent, caring and all the other qualities one hopes for in a mate, he somehow found my blog. My amazing skill of using a pseudonym and believing no one can trace me is blown away like a feather in a storm. But then the miracle of his confessing his stalking skills and, after our next date, asking me to be his girlfriend made me feel like a teenager and gave me hope.

As you date someone, enjoy their company, feelings grow and you might have fleeting glimpses or fantasies of your future with them. All of this is fast forwarded and discussions pushed forward when you are also contemplating adoption. We, or I, decided that I would proceed with Stage One of the adoption process which involves more interviews, loads of paperwork and them assessing my home and interviewing my referees. I told my referees about my dating someone, I felt I owed it to them as they were doing such a huge thing for me and hoped they understood why I was trying to attempt both at once.

As my feelings grew for this man I was seeing (Adam), the fear of how this would work took hold. I started to doubt the future, the potential partnership and him. At the same time, work became quiet and my mum who I usually discuss things with went away, I was like a mouse on a wheel, each rung a worry to go over and over. I started to silently pick holes in Adam’s character, some of them were not unfounded, no one is without flaws. After a couple of days, he sensed my distancing and asked me about it, I mentioned a couple of my doubts and he explained his reasoning. My mind was quietened and reassured but only temporarily.

I’d rung my adoption agency to find out when Stage One would start, there is a delay due to logistics of other people in my group which made me more impatient. I then asked the hypothetical question of what does dating this man mean in terms of adoption? They replied, I would not be considered as a prospective adopter until we had been together for a year, even if he was not a joint applicant and simply a significant other. He would also not be considered until he was actually divorced – this is eighteen months away. These are vital rules to have but hearing them made me feel torn. It’s taken me two long years to decide that this was definitely my path and now I felt I had to decide between a potential partner and becoming a parent.

I went to my regular volunteering at pre-school and my heart tore at the thought of not having one of these little sausages as my own for at least another year. Everything was changing, which I’m useless at rolling with, if I stayed with him, my potential ideal of being with the right partner, and ultimately becoming a family together would happen. Someone to share life’s ups and downs with, even when sometimes the other person brings those dramas with them. I also realised as Adam & I talked that if we were together in a year, or eighteen months time, this decision of becoming a family would not be mine alone. The two of us would decide and suddenly all options would then be back on the table. This put huge pressure on our potential togetherness, despite our decision to wait six months before looking at it again, it was always hanging over us. Every time we were out, I could not help but be distracted by every cute child nearby. He has already been on this journey with his ex wife and was suddenly faced with this scenario again. When I first met him, I’d decided to not mention the adoption until we were established as a couple but we met with both sets of baggage firmly at the check in desks.

At the same time, I had to do my Timeline for the adoption agency, listing everything I have done in my lifetime so they can look for potential gaps where I could have been working as a drug lord. As I’ve got four different c.v.’s, I had to go through twenty years of diaries to remind myself of dates and jobs. As a freelancer who used to work in theatre and then tv, temping in admin and nannying in between contracts, you’d think I’d be organised and have everything in my diaries. I have discovered reading them was like trying to decipher code. I had not written a single production name down, and barely wrote down start dates of jobs. I seemed to put what time I had to be somewhere but not addresses and at one point doing a show I’d written, ‘blood’ which meant we were using stage blood but for what production I can’t remember. I’ve toured the country several times over in my life so reading things like, ‘Manchester’ also does not help me now. I seem to have written quite a few names and times down but as this coincided with me sorting out carers for my sick Dad, I don’t know if they were colleagues or home help. Two days of going through the last twenty years of my life, was actually rather depressing as I no longer work in that industry and began to wonder what those years were all for.

In the midst of this self pity I also asked myself, what have I done to change my situation if I was so unhappy about it – not a lot! Back in present day reality, I also have a poorly furbaby who may not last the year. So what do I do to deal with these emotions? Run… not physically though that would help. Run to the nearest chocolate bar, to my poor friends who try to calm me when I pick holes in Adam, and in to a vat of self pity when I realise I also brought this scenario on myself. I chose to date while starting adoption, I chose to chase the dream of becoming a family with a partner in a limited time frame, I chose to let my insecurities come to the surface and become needy in the beginning of a relationship. And the latter I’ve only just learned about myself.

I’ve spent years avoiding getting close to certain people, those needy insecure and generally single women who talk too much about inane and tiny problems, fearing that their traits would rub off on me like some sort of contagious disease. Yet I’ve been one of them all along and now am sure I see others cross the street to avoid getting in to another long conversation all about me. Why has it taken me so long to realise this? I think my life is so fascinating that I must blog about it and share it with all my friends and the world! One of my ever patient friends rang me this evening on reading my Facebook status that I had eaten an entire (albeit small) jar of Nutella. All she managed to say was, ‘how are you?’ before I launched in to a blow by blow account of my emotional wellbeing until she managed to tell me that she was at work and just wanted to check I wasn’t too down. How I have any friends is a miracle.

I now question how I’m going to make it as a parent with my character flaws, will I be trying to hug my 15 year old son while giving a diatribe on how the fridge breaking is the biggest crisis ever?

Recently, another friend mentioned that someone he knows is adopting later in life and wondered how she was going to cope because this woman is rather selfish; how would she change the habits of a lifetime and put others before her at fifty years old? I replied that if she wanted it enough, she would cope because I feel I am that woman. Most people over forty who have spent most of their lives alone, not with a partner or children, are selfish in that we do have the luxury of time to ourselves. Perhaps ‘selfish’ is too strong a word. I know I am too self reflecting, introspective and perhaps more insecure due to a lifetime of therapy and time to look at my behaviour. I wish all people had more time to do this should they wish but the downside is you could end up like me; at worst, a needy introspective woman who is unlikely to live up to her high expectations in life and particularly in relationships.

I hope I do get to be a parent to be able to put someone before myself, I’ve done this before when looking after ill family members but generally at the cost of my own health. I don’t know if I can be a good parent, or make it on my own but after waiting so long to try, I’m saying goodbye to the chance of starting this journey with someone else because it’s too late. As I turn forty one, I’ve run out of time and I don’t want to wait for someone else to deal with their baggage before they decide if my choice is also theirs. And they too shouldn’t have to decide now or wait for me to deal with my baggage. So let Stage One begin…