Dating During Adoption

I’ve been thinking a lot about love, lately. I think it has very little to do with the adoption, but probably a lot to do with the fact that I’m preparing my life and my home for a family; I’m settling down.

I don’t feel any pangs of regret or need to have the husband before I adopt. I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything. I think I’m just simply ready to find a long-term love. I’m finding my thoughts constantly wandering towards that warm, adoring, safe place that is being in love. It sure would be nice to have someone around to share my life with.

The timing is really unfortunate, because I can’t very well start dating right now. When would I possibly have the time to weed through potential mates? And what would I say to them about the adoption? Then there’s the more complicated matter of introducing them to the children. These kids are going to take a very long time to settle in and become comfortable and secure as a family, it wouldn’t be fair to throw an additional person into the mix, especially if that person was still a question mark in my mind. No, the whole idea seems out of place. Dating will have to wait.

I wonder then, how do the rest of the single mother’s go about dating? What will I be facing once my children are in a good enough place that I can put myself out there again? Is there ever a “good time” to add someone your family, and how do you go about doing it? Of course, my situation is unique so there will be differences, but there’s no point reinventing the wheel.

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined. ~Henry David Thoreau

I felt a great sense of accomplishment today as I registered for more university courses. I completed my first course last week and I’ll complete certificate one of two by mid-September. By the end of the year I’ll have both certificates resulting in the formal education I need to position myself for a leadership position at work. Yesterday, I got a phone call from someone at the adoption centre, to verify some information for my criminal record check. I’m hopeful that this means the intake worker is finally reviewing my application, after 9 weeks of waiting. Last month I looked at seven homes for sale, and I took the next step towards closing out my father’s estate. It feels great knowing that my plan is coming together. I tend to be great at the planning phase but not so good at the execution, but these are things I’m passionate about; things I really want.

Today one of my best friends received the key to her new home. This happened shortly after a long awaited career move. In September, my family will welcome the first baby of our generation (born to one of my cousins). My best friend is on her second career and her oldest son just got his learner’s license. A couple of my friends are getting divorced, and a lot more are showing their age on their faces. Seeing these milestones makes me really proud; proud of our accomplishments and proud of our mistakes. I’m proud that we’re doing the things we always dreamed of, and that things are panning out just as we’d always hoped and often felt neglected by. That girl who thought no one would ever love her has found the love of her life. That couple who worked so hard to buy a home finally has. That eighteen year old staring into the eyes of her newborn baby boy has raised him well.

It’s so great to see where we’re ending up, and the direction we’re building our lives.

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined. ~Henry David Thoreau

Breaking up is a natural evolution when you try to figure out what you want in life. ~Usher

Most of my friends will assume it was The Italian’s workaholic nature that did us in, but it wasn’t. Not in the end.

A few weeks ago I went on my annual road trip to Vancouver Island to visit my best friend. She asked me why he didn’t come, and I replied that I hadn’t asked him, and that he wouldn’t have taken a week off of work anyway. She noted that I’ve never had a boyfriend accompany me on that trip before, and that when I finally do, she would declare him “the one”. We didn’t talk much about The Italian aside from that, but he was in the back of my mind the entire trip. His work hours had started getting carried away again, and he knew he wasn’t making me happy. He had stated as much a few weeks before I left, so it was no surprise that we had both started putting some distance between us. I was trying to figure out where my “line” would be… how much I could compromise our time together.

Hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable. ~ Author Unknown

Meanwhile, aside from the nightmares that accompanied my forgetting to take my anxiety medication for a few days, I was enjoying my trip thoroughly. For the first time, I took one of my dogs, Sadie. We went for long walks through the woods, and she swam in the river and in the ocean, while M took some incredible photos. I spent a lot of time reading books about child abuse, and about attachment and adoption. I played games. I prepared dinner for my best friend, her boyfriend, and his brother and sister in law. We sat around the table grilling chicken and peppers and having “lemon meringue” drinks, and after a few too many, we confessed what we liked and appreciated about each other. I went out and did some target practice with the boys while my best friend was at work one day during the week. There was so much fun to be had.

A couple of days before the end of my trip, I was sitting around an evening camp fire in the back yard with M and her boyfriend, laughing and talking. Andy had been texting me during my entire trip, asking what I was up to and making sure I was enjoying myself, and this night was no exception. I found myself wishing that he was there. I was thinking about how well he would fit in amongst my friends, how he’d love to sit around the camp fire, watch movies and shoot some clay pidgins with us. I realized that I could see him sitting around that dinner table, grilling up a storm and having drunken sentimental conversations with my friends…

…and then I realized that I couldn’t see The Italian in any of those scenarios. Not a single one. I can picture us married, living together, even having children, but outside those walls, I just didn’t see where he would fit into my life. The Italian isn’t the kind of guy to kick back around a camp fire with a beer, or go out wind surfing with the guys. He’s an amazing man, I just realized he wasn’t the right man.

Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop. ~ Author Unknown

It made me sad to think that we weren’t meant to be together, but it had become very clear in my head. It was fact, there was no wishy-washy thought process… once I realized that I couldn’t picture him with me when I was doing the things I loved, I knew it was over. I broke up with him the morning I left the island to come home.

The Italian didn’t handle the break-up well. He was hurt, but I know that he knew it was coming. After a few days we touched base again and it was better that time. He doesn’t hate me, but he doesn’t want to remain friends. I can understand that, I never wanted to be friends with anyone who broke up with me before, either. My heart hurts when I think about how much we cared for each other. It’s proof that love really isn’t enough. You can adore someone like we did, but you can’t change them, you can’t mold them into who you want them to be, and at some point accepting that they would be happier without you is all that you can do.

Breaking up is a natural evolution when you try to figure out what you want in life. ~Usher

I am sad sometimes, I grieve for our friendship and for the sweet intimate moments we shared, but for the most part I don’t miss him. I guess that comes from not being able to see him very much anyway. I missed him so much in the weeks before we broke up, that I had forgotten what it was like to be with him. A blessing in disguise, I suppose.

I guess I’m just glad I got to be the girl who was worth that damn expensive coffee, for a while.

Our story has three parts: a beginning, a middle, and an end. And although this is the way all stories unfold, I still can’t believe that ours didn’t go on forever. ~Nicolas Sparks