Up until now, my adoption community has been online only–I’m on an email list, I read forums–but I have committed to going to a birthparent meetup on Friday. I’m so nervous. What it makes me think of–and this is super weird–is listened to polyamorous people [via podcast] talk about how they found the bdsm community, and how terrified they were of calling the number/going to the brunch. But I really feel like I need to talk and listen about this stuff; I’ve actually tried contacting the agency twice, but they don’t respond to my emails. So now it’s a birthmother pizza party. I’m worried that everyone else will have had real issues–that they’ll all be birthmothers from the closed era, when you had to walk ten miles uphill in the snow to contact, whereas Cricket’s adoptive parents are the ones writing to suggest a visit. My solution? I am going to bring a dessert. It’s weird to take a step back and see how much of my behavior is intended to signal “Please don’t be mad at me.”

My husband won’t be going to the get-together with me, but will pick me up afterwards and we’ll go somewhere for coffee or ice cream or something so I can debrief him. I like it that he had assumed that this would be the plan even before I suggested it; he’s not a born talker, but we’ve been together quite awhile, and he knows how I am. I also need to figure out what to wear; I dress like a complete slob most days, so picking out an outfit and makeup for an outing feels like a bigger deal than it really is.

I just got an email from Ruth telling me that she is exhausted and Cricket is exhausting, at the moment–she didn’t cancel the visit, but it sounded as though she wanted to, so I wrote back to let her know that if it’s just too much, I don’t mind. Now I am waiting to hear back from her, to hear what she wants to do. I am so bad at waiting for important email–it makes me frantic. I should be working, but instead I’m reading adoption blogs and chewing my lip. Cricket, apparently, has learned to throw tantrums and bite; from 150 miles away, it’s adorable.

Cricket and his parents are planning to visit here in October for the first time ever–I’m not sure when yet, told them to pick any weekend but the first one–that first weekend contains my birthday, which I didn’t mention but don’t really want to have complicated by adoption stuff. A couple of weeks ago I asked Ruth whether it’d be okay if we had toys here that Cricket could play with. Part of my nesting issue has left me with some baby toys [they’ll be useful when futurekid arrives!], and she knows that some nesting occurred, but I don’t want to creep her out. I was careful to explain my thinking [I don’t mean to imply that you can’t provide for him, of course you totally can, I was more thinking about how my Gramma had toys at her house just for when we visited and it didn’t seem weird], and worried about how she’d respond. She hasn’t responded, which might be all the answer I need, but I hope not. I think a lot about what my role will be in Cricket’s life. I’m the kind of person who bakes a lot, which means that Mr. Book gets homemade treats pretty regularly, and so will futurekid. So if Cricket visits here and there are homemade twinkies, is that me overcompensating in the eyes of his parents? Because it’s not unusual around here, but would never happen at his house–Ruth has sensitivities to wheat, dairy, corn, and soy. I know that it’s too early to worry about this stuff, but I don’t let that stop me. I wonder about how Cricket will think of futurekid, and I wonder how futurekid will think of the next child that Ruth and Nora adopt. I often think that Cricket will hate me once he’s old enough to think things through.