This is real now. We have a mother who wants to meet us. I grab a piece of paper and pencil to write down every detail I get.
Her name is Gweneth (note, her name is not Gweneth). She’s drug free, except caffeine. (Yay!) She has a 2 year old daughter named Hope (note, her name is not Hope). She can meet us on a Sunday because that’s when the birth father can be there (yay! Birth father is known and involved!). Her sister has placed a child through adoption before, so she has a feel for the process and the implications of her decision. She plans on giving birth at a hospital that’s only 15 minutes away. She’s due in December sometime.
Fact, fact, fact, fact, fact, fact. I’m writing them down as quickly as I can write. We make arrangements for meeting at a restaurant on Sunday at noon. She tells me the restaurant and location, I’m trying to picture it in my head, since we’ve driven by it a few times. Shouldn’t be a problem.
Then comes the obvious question that I have no answer for : “Do you have any questions?”
Well, that’s not true, I have 9 million questions, with only a fraction that are appropriate, timely or advised. Am I ready to be a dad? Is Hope cute? What about our profile book made them choose us? I have other things on my mind too like who needs to know now, what I need to accomplish, and just wrapping my head around the whole thing.
Of course, there’s the one big thing I have to figure out first: how to tell Steph.
Note : This post was written on September 13th to be put up at a more appropriate future date.