Anxiety...a definition:

I remember talking to a fertility friend recently whose surrogate had suffered yet another miscarriage. She seemed fine and I remarked on how she was coping so well.  She said something very powerful to me. "I am so used to the endless disappointment in this quest to become a family that these feelings and situations are just all too familiar now and something I know how to cope with. When this finally does work out for us, that is when I am going to need all the help I can get, because those feelings, I have no idea how to deal with!"  And this, my readers, is exactly how I am feeling right now. I can't seem to accept that this may actually be working out for us. Am I being over-cautious?  Is this emotional protection? It's been nearly six years and I just don't think I can cope with any more disappointment.

My sister has always said that anxiety ran in the the family and I thought -- what a load of old yeast! I am the most chilled out person I know. In fact, people have been known to check I was still breathing. But now, I feel I am going to have re-phrase. I am usually the most chilled out person I know. Now suddenly, on planet adoption, things are different. I can't sleep. I check my email and phone constantly. Not even the knitting or baking is helping, although I did rustle up a luscious chunky Victoria sponge yesterday with a silky raspberry jam filling and lashings of white chocolate buttercream and a light dusting of.....anyway..I digress...back to being anxious:   I am already worrying why Miss Delia has not given us any feedback after her meeting on Thursday with LBM. Surely just a one liner saying how she felt assured he was the right match. Maybe even a hint of how cute he was?   Nope, all we got was a formal, no frills email setting up an appointment for a weeks time with his social worker. I find myself reading into this, worrying. Is this a bad sign? Is this a good sign. Why no personals? I am left with a whole week to analyse this. I google the definition of anxiety and now I feel even more anxious. Aah that love/hate relationship with google. Why do we do it to ourselves? I'm now anxious about being anxious. This is absurd. I just want to click 'proceed to checkout' on my Amazon wish list. I want to remove the word 'potentially' from every adoption conversation we have. I just want this to happen.

Incidentally, my friend's surrogate is beautifully pregnant and a special little baby is on the way. And yes, we did have to pick her up off the floor!

Introducing...white chocolate buttercream

The Little Big Man......

What a whirlwind of a weekend, most of it spent up to my eyeballs in icing. I try and concentrate on my vintage sugar flowers but I keep seeing his plump little face before me. But I'm worried that I didn't  feel that instant connection. What am I meant to feel? Am I meant to encounter this instant bond from a badly photocopied old photo. I finally managed to get some time to myself on Saturday evening to snuggle up on the sofa with a cuppa ...ok ok, a glass of wine....and the CPR. Just me and the little big man. I read it intensely, page by page absorbing every second of his life so far. I call my sister on the other side of the world. When I say his name out loud to her, my heart does a weird little flip thing.  (A bit like back in the day when LRUN first turned up at the back of my boat) And then I know. This is the one.
LRUN and I talk about him all weekend. We end up in fits of giggles. His birth father has an unusual name and we try and get google pronunciation to help us say it correctly. I'd say we're nearly there. 70% and counting. Less laughing, more vowels and we'll be there. Monday is quiet and I try and keep busy and bake a batch of Toffee and Oatmeal cookies. They're not great but LRUN has hoovered two before they even reach the cookie jar. I can't sleep. All I can think about is the LBM and his chubby little face. I can't be feeding him cookies for a while.
I draught an email to Miss Delia and send it first thing Tuesday morning. By noon, there's still no word from her, so I do the unthinkable and send her a text. Ok, I send her 2 texts. This is serious! She finally replies. She is due to see the LBM and his foster carer on Thursday and she explains she will report back afterwards with an update. I sense her words are cautious. I know how unpredictable these things can be so I have to remain realistic. But this feels so right. Surely this has to work out. 

The real Toffee and Oatmeal Cookies

Small seeds grow into big things......

I seem to be so unfazed by Miss Delias impending visit today. In fact, I have the Rooibos tea for breakfast, so I can save the last remaining tea bags for her. Even the biscuit jar is looking particularly dire. I may be able to scrape together a couple of chocolate shortbreads to offer her. Gee whiz, this is not like me. How things have changed since those first meetings, planning my cookie choices for weeks. But I feel disheartened and I think I'm just protecting myself from yet more disappointment. She's late today too as her furry friend needs to get to the vet, so we wait for her. Not anxiously like we used to but LRUN is out in his man-den shed building something random and I browse pinterest for new cake recipes, thinking about this Rhubarb and Custard Cake, glancing occasionally at the barren biscuit jar thinking I really should have made the effort.

She finally arrives and in the rush to get her out of the rain and into the dry, I clock a few extra pages peeping out of  her notebook. I quickly remind myself she is here to talk about going on the national adoption register and that these pages are probably the application forms. After a few minutes of idle chit chat about the cat, her face breaks into the most radiant smile, she reaches for a stale shortbread and says she is pleased to tell us she has somebody special to talk to us about today. I nearly choke on my Rooibos tea but I try and remain calm and listen intently. It's a blue one. A big blue one. A sweet endearing big fat blue one. Its a long intense session and we both listen closely and try to take it all in. I forget all about the biscuit situation. There are a few medical issues that need to be explored together with some identity matters but we both feel we would like to hear more. She shows a picture of him together with his birth mother and I will admit, I am shocked by this. I wasn't expecting so much information first time round and I find myself staring at her more than the big man. She looks so happy. So young.

I have to rush off to work and Miss Delia says we have until Tuesday to decide if we would like to pursue this match. There is a lot to think about and I find work really hard to concentrate on. Triple A is my saviour and sends me encouraging texts throughout the day. As each hour passes, I keep seeing his chubby little face. I send LRUN a text saying I think the big man is growing on me and I desperately want to know how he feels.  LRUN replies saying 'he's thinking'. This is one of the busiest bank holidays we've had coming up filled with forest theatre, bbq's plus I have a huge vintage cake order to make and deliver.  I just need to find the time to sit down with a cuppa (after I've done the groceries and bought more tea that is!) and just soak all this info on the Big Man up.

Blah....blah...blah....

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 eating biscuits and keeping busy and has finished painting the little ones bedroom. Just white for now. It looks good. Clean and fresh. Ready for me to work my brilliance. I will admit, I think I'm becoming a little obsessed with the owl theme. The wonders of Pinterest....how did I manage before?

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

Hey Nosey Parker....

It's been over a week since I emailed Miss Delia and still no reply. Rude. Plain Rude. I email her again...there's no stopping me now.... this time using the excuse to tell her we have signed up for the Be My Parent newsletter (a kind of mini Argos catalogue of the children waiting to be placed. Heartbreaking stuff, especially when I just want to take them all!) I ask her again if she has any news for us. I get an immediate reply, only this time it's automated and it tells me she is out of the office. #annoyed

So while it feels as if the whole world is on holiday in August apart from me, I've been doing some thinking. Mainly about how people and distant friends will react, when holy shmacaroo, out of the blue, we suddenly have a little one in our lives. The human race are funny and deep down everyone is curious and who doesn't love a good story. Best I prepare myself for the 'oh, I didn't even know you were pregnant scenario.' Now in all honesty, due to the vast amount of cake in my life, I could easily appear a little pregnant thanks to what my sister calls my 'spare tyre' around my middle. Actually, who am I kidding, we're bordering on third trimester here, as I haven't seen my toes for years.  But still...I'm going to have to come up with a pretty good story for all those nosey parkers and rubber necks out there. Oh and then there's the 'so whats their story questions?' I feel that whatever circumstances have led this little one into the care system, should remain their personal memoir. It should be their decision one day as to whether they want to share this information with others and not mine. So I need to figure out a way to say 'none of your business' but politely.

I've also finally allowed myself to purchase not just one but two, yes two my friends (!) mother and child magazines. And I've found myself pouring over every page, absorbing everything like a nappy sponge. Ok, so I have to skim over the 'love your bump' articles but to be quite honest, I can't help feeling that having a baby the natural way is soooo last year. Snort! The route I'm taking is way more 'me'

On the cake front, after much deliberation, I have finally chosen the recipe for my secret project. It's    
 my spin on a kiddie friendly Anna del Conte chocolate banana cake. Introducing....drum roll
please.....Ta Dah......'The ChoccyNuttyNana Cake'  Remember, you saw it here first!

Operation Secret Project