Hi everyone.
This might be my last post....I haven't decided yet.
Where do i start. I guess the 'rainstorm' happened about 3 weeks ago. I got a devastating call about my grandmother who had just been diagnosed with lung cancer. My family and I dropped everything and flew out to see her, probably for the last time.
I had to dip into my ' adoption fund ' Which was worrisome because it was already going to be quite tight financially, but really, when your grandmother is dying and you have one last shot to see her, you take it. It was a sad visit that left me emotionally spent. I had no idea what else what in store.
About 2 days after returning home, my sister calls me and tells me that my stepfather - Someone i care about very deeply, he is the only father i have really ever known he is the one who walked me down the aisle on my wedding day- left my mother a suicide voicemail. I won't get into the voicemail, but i heard it and spend the next hour in hysterics, hyperventilating into a paper bag. It was one of the worst moments and worst things i have ever heard, and it changed me- for the worse i think.
So i fled to my mothers house, where my brother sister and I were trying to get a hold of my stepfather, and desperately trying to get the police to do their jobs. I was there for about 8 hours, crying, and frantically texting my stepfather to come back home to the people that love him. I think i sent him about 80 or so texts before he finally texted: 'Help'.
I called him and he answered, but when i asked him where he was, he sounded so out of it that all he could muster was a simple "Help. I'm .." I have never known a broken heart until that moment. I felt so helpless and angry and scared and sick all at the same time. My stepfather was calling me to help, and i could not.
The police couldn't track his phone, they said the number didn't exist *idiots* we confirmed it did by phoning all the phone companies and finding out who his provider was. Still, they could do nothing.
Luckily he had a second phone which he had used to text his daughter, and this one they could trace. They found him in a parking lot with the hose from the vacuum cleaner on his Tailpipe, mere minutes away from death from exhaust fumes.
We all rushed to see him in the hospital. He was deeply affected by the fumes and was really out of it. He declared that nothing had changed and as much as he loved us, he was 'done'. I spent the next week visiting him in the psych ward, to which he is staying in for quite some time, and dealing with my traumatized family. There were lots of tears, fights, and emotional breakdowns from all of us. It was a tough week, and just when i thought things might be settling down a tad, the next bomb dropped.
We received an email from our adoption agency Choices, saying that they had terminated contracts with OWAS, our American agency. Without this connection an adoption from the DRC would not be possible. "Never fear"- they said- "we have two other options for you."
We looked into the options given to us and sadly we can not afford either option. Both are way out of reach for us. Especially since i have spent 3000 over budget this month, because of all of these emergencies that couldn't be helped. It was already very very tight financially and we already have debts, no matter what we do we can not make this work. Both require us to put forth 20,000+ more then what we have.
The American agency then told us they are willing to continue working with us, however our Canadian agency refuses to work with them.
Sounds like they are having issues and not getting along. It's nice that we Canadian families have to pay the ultimate price for this dissension.
Oh but we qualify for a refund- a grand total of 300 dollars. Nice huh? Sigh.
So after 7 1/2 years of desperation, endured trials and tribulations, probably something like 90,000 spent on our journey to have a baby, both through adoption and trying to beat my infertility, we have come to an end. We will never be a family of three. I will never get to hold my child in my arms. It hurts more then i can describe, and i don't think i have finished a day without tears, for all that i have lost, including the chunk of my heart that this adoption ripped from my chest.
I have only wanted to be a mother, since i was 13 and begged my mother to adopt and let me 'secretly have' the baby. What am i supposed to do for the next 50 years. Just merely work and exist? My mother keeps referring to her childless friends that have great lives and spend the days bowling away. I don't wish to bowl, i don't even like bowling. I know she is only trying to help, but it just hurts more thinking about how grim my future looks. How life will be exactly as it is now, forever.
I don't mean to whine or have a major pity party but why me? What have i done so wrong to miss out on the ultimate experience, to have one life but not be able to truly live it and have my only dream.
For those of you that have the dream, just hold your little ones close and give them a little squeeze for me. Never forget how blessed you are.
