Surprise Reaction

I read through the library book on how to be a successful adoptive parent. I've got a list of websites to check out and a few more books to potentially read. And I have a better understanding of how adopted children feel and react, at least on some minor level.

But the part that hit me hard was how I reacted emotionally to the book. There were things that are important to know if you ever want to adopt that showed me that I'm not ready to adopt yet. I'm not quite ready to deal with problems that come with adoption when I'm still trying to get past a few of my own issues that are eerily similar.

I spent half the book trying to figure out if I'll ever be ready to help a child adjust to the fact that they were (sort of) rejected by their birth parents in order for me to even have the option of raising them. It seems overwhelming. I spent the other half of the book trying to figure out how to move past my own rejection issues that my mom raised by never seeming to figure out how to express her approval of me (if she had any). How do I help someone start to piece their life back together when I'm not finished with that project myself?

I've been feeling an odd mix of emotions since reading this book. My in-laws seem more annoying and demanding which causes me to want to push them away. Ace seems busy with stuff and I just want to hold him close for a while. It's crowded in my head and I can't quite turn off the voices telling me that I'm not emotionally equipped to handle this, even though it's been something I've already wanted to do for 10 years.

So, I sit and I try to distract myself some. Christmas specials help with that. I try to let my subconscious sort through everything and come up with something definitive. I remind myself that I'm not trying to adopt right now, so it's okay that I'm not ready emotionally yet. I wait and I breathe. And I let God and time work on the unexpectedly reopened wounds. I hug Ace a bit more often and find funny things to cheer myself up when I can. I allow myself the mental space to work on other things. I look to the future with joy, despite my uncertainty. I learn and I grow. I become a better person, which will make me a better parent when the time is right. I let go of anger and deal with the pain as best I can. I forgive and forgive and forgive until my emotions catch up with the process.

And I start reading another book, on something different, to give myself something else to think about and figure out and grow from. Because that's what this time is for, this time before children. And I wouldn't trade this for anything.