I felt it, too. Here’s why.
At 4:35pm on Monday, I was slipping my feet into my blue flip-flops and getting ready to go anywhere that carried ESPN so I could watch my Cowboys. The phone rang; I glanced at the clock and, seeing that it was the half-hour, thought it was my father-in-law. He war dials, remember, and it’s usually at the quarter- or half-hour. So I turn towards the stairs to grab something before I leave, and the voice mail kicks on.
She says her name; I stop in my tracks.
She’s rambling on and I’m frozen. Finally, the trance breaks and I pick up the phone and say “S? You there? I’m sorry, I was upstairs.” Liar. This is my stock answer when I don’t pick up the phone.
“We have a young lady who chose your profile. Do you have a pen and paper?”
Our life may change drastically in less than two weeks.
I never did go and watch the game.
We meet the potential birthmother tomorrow. I’m not going to post details of her situation, to protect her as well as ourselves, but let’s just say that by all the indications, we might be parents in ten days or less.
I’ve been reluctant to post about it, true to my native cautious nature. It’s also partly because I was going through a mental meltdown, and couldn’t put two thoughts together if my life depended on it. Why? Because this possible match is a complete bolt from the blue – no warning, no preparation, and not a lot of information. We won’t get a lot of time to prepare. We’re not going to get all the information about her and the birthfather we’d prefer to have. We’ll have to scramble to get DH’s crap out of that room, gather some things, and have some semblance of a baby-ready house.
There are some substance exposure issues (although nothing hardcore) – one that I don’t think matters too much, the other I think I might be overreacting to. The PBM is the defensive, cagey sort, and isn’t elaborating on the information she provided to the facilitator. However, the facilitator has been working with PBM since August, so after thinking about it for about 36 hours, I think I’m okay with what she’s telling me. Yeah, my brain exploded, and it’s taken that long for the pieces to fall back together.
Yesterday I felt awful, especially mentally, and it spilled over to the physical. I didn’t sleep the night before last because my head was just spinning, disgorging all sorts of things that might need to be done and all the possible scenarios that might come to pass. There's just so much to do and I feel hobbled and helpless until we get the green light. I felt like puking at various points yesterday morning. I was also very glad that Boss was out of the office yesterday, because I was a complete mess. I had no attention span. I was trying to think my way through it all and try to do some semblance of work... ha ha. Riiiiiight.
At lunch I went to the outdoor mall near the office. DH called me on my way there and asked if I was all right; no, I wasn’t, not at all. My stomach had revolted (sorry for the graphics), turning to water – which, to me, is preferable to puking. We talked through certain points. We ended the conversation, and I walked into Paradise Bakery. I had a bagel, which made me feel a little better, considering I hadn’t eaten anything since the phone call the evening before, but I only had two sips of my Dr Pepper before I threw it away. Yeah, I was fluffed like a freaked out cat.
From there, I wandered Macy’s, just for something to do. I caught myself breathing funny, so I stopped in the middle of the store and told myself to chill the hell out. I was looking through the clothes department for me just to browse, to do something, but also gave myself permission to look through the baby department (Macy’s is the worst place for that stuff anyway).
But I’m paralyzed. I can’t buy clothes, a baby seat, a crib, anything. I can’t do anything until after Thursday, after tomorrow morning, when PBM says a definite yea or nay.
Of course, if this is real, if it really goes through, I’m not going to truly relax until the three day waiting period has passed.
With no attention span, I left work early yesterday. I was so spazzed out that I was almost manic. I seized upon the one thing I can do: I went to IKEA and bought a filing cabinet for the home office so we can consolidate things and get things moved in. I loaded this bitch of a box by myself, took it home, got it upstairs, and started assembling it. It soothed my nerves – it bothers me that I’m so helpless until after tomorrow, yes or no, that I needed something to do. Problem was, I was so exhausted by the time I got the first part done that I was getting frustrated.
I’ll have to cancel/postpone the trip to Indianapolis. I’m bummed, but this is most obviously more important. Duh. Hopefully Continental will let me reschedule, since it’s a non-refundable ticket and these are truly extenuating circumstances.
This morning I feel better. I actually slept. I told myself at the top of the stairs after I got ready for work that everything is completely out of my control at this moment, and to calm the hell down. I’m still having gastrointestinal issues from the stress, but that’s to be expected.
And no, we haven’t told anyone in the family yet; we agreed on that last night. I talked to my Oregonian adoptive father friend, one of my pals in Indiana, and to a friend from high school who I need as a prayer warrior outside of my personal goldfish bowl. DH has spoken to his boss (who needs to know anyway) and a friend. We agree that there’s no point in getting the families whipped up if this thing doesn’t go through.
Wow. Just.... wow.