Match game

I wrote recently about how the adoption process feels a lot like online dating. It's no joke. There are photo lists of dozens of kiddies in our area in need of permanent homes. Their bios really show them in the best possible light, generally with a lot of dark unpleasantness lurking underneath. Then you make inquiries and ask to learn more for those who pique your interest. You can even arrange to meet in person at a neutral location with no strings attached.

That's kind of what hubby and I did when we became involved in a non-profit that arranges 'matching' events with many of these kids. At a bowling event a couple of weeks ago, it was extraordinary how many youngsters we recognized from photos and videos plastered all over the internet.

And, if you're someone like me, you have already done a ton of detective work on every case before you see them in person, and it's astonishing how up to speed you can be on their backgrounds. (It feels kind of odd to shake hands with a teenager you are meeting for the first time while thinking 'I know you are in special education classes, taking meds for hyperactivity and have been known to start fires.')

Well...that's become our lives in recent months. We've followed up on a few cases that got us excited, and so far none has yielded anything. Although our agency begs us not to feel as though we're in competition with other prospective families, we cannot help feel like we are, since somebody always seems to have an edge on us whenever we discover there is a kiddie available for adoption.

Then, last week something amazing happened.

Our adoption coordinator contacted us about a young man who had been in a couple of failed adoption attempts -- something she attributes to the bungling of his case by adults and not so much anything to do with the child himself -- and she thinks we would be a good match for him. He's not on any of those photos lists and not involved in the non-profit group we're participating in. That means, he's not as much of a 'special needs' child as many of the others we've met and/or inquired about.

Okay, I told her. He's 11 years old, and we (mostly my husband) have been targeting kids a little younger than that, but let me talk it over and go from there. We'd like to think we're flexible.

Fast forward through a lot of back and forth and we are now officially in 'a match.'

Here's what that means: We are committed to learning more about this kid and determining whether we're interested in going forward. And, meanwhile, we agree not to consider any other cases, and they agree not to consider any other families for the kid until we reach and yea or neigh.

The kid is not supposed to have any idea what's going on while the adults work things out. Then when and if the answer becomes yea, then he finds out.

Well, the kid's adoption worker kind of spilled the beans and let him know there was a family interested in him. It would be two dads, and how would he feel about that. It got back to us that he was feeling extremely excited and wanted to meet us.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling over the moon when I heard that. But at the same time, I wanted to respect the process, because it's there for a reason. What if we find out about something in the case file that is more than we can handle? What if this ends up falling apart before we even meet the kid, and he feels rejected yet again?

I cannot even begin to imagine what it's like to go through what many of these children go through. They lose their parents one way or another. They bounce around to different homes losing their friends and sense of community. They have to keep switching schools. Well...come to think of it, I had to switch schools a lot when I was a boy. And, it felt like the hardest thing in the world to go through. But then I never once had to wish that some day I would get to have a family of my own.

Now, hubby and I could potentially become this kid's parents. We're already thinking about his future, how we can get him on track academically, help him make friends and just lead a rich and full life. We think about him every minute of every day. And, we haven't met him. We don't even know what he looks like. But, it already feels like he belongs with us.

Every evening we look into his room and wonder why he's not there. We look out the window wondering what he's doing and hoping he's okay.

In the next couple of days we should have some new information on what happens next. We should know how much longer until we get to meet him. Meanwhile, the waiting is killing us, but we're doing okay at being patient. I think the hardest thing is having to cross our fingers that nothing goes wrong. We are hoping with all our strength that no politics or bureaucracy ends up getting in the way of our getting the chance to bond with this little guy and become his family.

Not long ago, we thought that completing our paperwork and signing our documents was the beginning of the journey. Now it's a couple months later, and we're in 'a match.' And, it still feels like the journey hasn't begun.

If I can keep my blood pressure down and oxygen continuing to flow to my brain from all the stress of waiting, then I think things will be okay. We'll get a chance to begin the journey. We'll be at a point where we're finished reading the rules on the board game box and now we can take our first turn.

Maybe it will turn out we are not the best family for this kid. In that case, I am sure we will go through this all over again. It would be painful, but we'd be ready to accept how things are and keep moving forward.

No matter happens, we -- and this kid -- will become winners. And, that's enough to take a deep breath and feel good about.