Not all life is adoption. That is, knowing "who we've been waiting for" in adoption parlance, has enabled me to move forward with my daily life much less encumbered. I sometimes stop to feel guilty (I wouldn't be me if I didn't) that I don't think of Seong Joon enough, wonder what he's doing right now. But the truth is, I'm sure he's being loved on, not knowing the momentous changes he's in for. I feel terrible for him in advance. Being ripped from his life. Twice. At only 18 months old. And terrible for his foster mother. I'm not sure about foster father as they're never spoken of. Like so much about fathers of all stripes, foster fathers, if they exist, aren't part of the societal fabric of international adoption.
I attended an adoption support group last night. The women who lead it had adopted two children domestically, another couple had been waiting more than a year for a domestic placement (to be chosen by a birth mom "out of the book") and another couple was in the early stages of considering adoption. Being among these people, all relatively "older," all whom struggled or are struggling to conceive, I felt much less like a freak than I had for such a long time.
I have been part of the sanitized adoption community so long I forgot what it's like to talk realistically about others' adoption experiences. It's hard to explain, but it relates back to the political correctness training we received our first day with the agency. And then the ripping apart I've received over the years from members of the various adoption forums I've been part of. People, other adoptive parents and adult adoptees, in the parlance, can be judgmental and eviscerating. As can the endless lectures about how I can be sure I won't know how to raise a transracially adopted (child who was adopted by parents of another race). The tone of superiority and judgment can crush. My anger about it can startle me.
So last night felt like a breath of fresh air. Sometimes, lately, I feel like I can breath again.