So after a quick dash home at lunchtime to let the dog out, I see out of the corner of my eye, the answerphone light flashing. Expecting the usual PPI claim malarky, I press the play button and walk away. I stop dead in my tracks when I hear the familiar tone of Miss Delia's voice on the line. The line is so crackly and her voice so soft I can barely make out what she is saying. I lean hard against the sideboard and listen intently. But the words I can make out loud and clear of 'sorry, no match yet' sink my heart. She goes on to say a bunch of empty, meaningless stuff about how, at the end of this month, we will go on the national adoption register but how she was 'hopeful'..now there's an empty word I have grown to dislike... that this road wouldn't be necessary.
Forgive me if I sound ungrateful. I know, I know, at least she called. But I spend all day with my 'coping' face on and sometimes, just sometimes, towards the end of the day, it becomes obvious that I am just not. I am tired. Tired of hovering on the outskirts of that family circle and being that annoying wannabee parent. Oh...pick me..pick me...! Like some sort of weird groupie. I just want us to be a family. I'm sure when we do finally get our match I will look back and laugh. Guffaw at how impatient I was becoming. Right now, I am finding this all pretty darn hard.
LRUN seems to be coping fine by
But after all this gloominess, there is proof of the magic of this mysterious world of adoption. We
spent Saturday with our adoption buddies, the Fraigs, as it was their littlest one's birthday. Mrs Fraig asked if I could bring cake. Now, I can't just bring cake, I have to bring awesome cake and ok, so I got a little bit carried away but it went down a treat. Even Triple A's little one went home to tell her daddy she had had yummy cake. Result!
|Hip Hip Hooray|