Friday, January 17, 2014

In which the name Grant and all G names are officially retired

I believe this one is due for resurrection.

Yesterday, the birth mother signed the papers and took the baby home. I believe his name is now Jakarian or something to that effect.

Mike said last night that at least this was over like ripping off a bandaid. Fast. Painful. Over with.

Tamara and I discussed Wednesday how the ultimate passive voice statement is "mistakes were made." Mistakes were, indeed, made. And they weren't ours.

I really don't want to write this post. Not because I'm sad--I mean, I am, but I'm more, um, "not surprised." I spent all my time the last week telling people not to be happy until the baby came home. I went back and read my posts and they are all so very hesitant to be excited. Blah.

We have a choice to make. Like Wednesday, I just wrote a few paragraphs about how this went down and how unbelievably incompetent our agency has been...again.  But, that particular decision remains unmade so I better not write anything I am going to regret.

The choices:
1. Keep trying with this agency. Mike says he is willing to continue if they make certain agreements about price and actually listening to the fact that we don't want an at risk mother placement. I am a significantly more vengeful person and I'm not there at the moment. He might be able to convince me though.

2. Keep trying with another agency or with the state. I'm actively researching this angle. If you have an agency recommendation, send it on! Post it in the comments. Email it to me. Straight up honest, though, if your agency cost like $40,000, that's just not happening. We don't qualify for grants and we'd prefer not to go too in debt.

3. Stop trying. What's the definition of insanity? This is our third go-round with not bringing a baby home. All different situations. All different levels of heartbreak. It might be time to ask ourselves if we've only gone through this to have a peace about knowing we did everything we could.

For the first time, I'm willing to consider number 3. Mike and I have always felt like we were meant to have kids. Plural. Well. Kids plural who are with us here on earth. But I'm not so sure anymore.

There's a lot of thinking, researching and praying to do.

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