Finding out

As I continue to wait for Decision Day, getting more and more anxious by the second (thanks Bikram and running), I've been reflecting more on the last few stages of this interminable process. The final interview which was, I think, in May, changed the goalposts a bit. Another friend had accompanied me for this one and the whole tone was just different. My best friend the psychologist no longer seemed interested in convincing me that single mothers were unwanted, second class citizens. Oh no! This time, it was to check that what I had written on my application form was, in fact, true. 

You see, you have to do a checky-box thing. Which type of child will you accept? Age, sex, disability, special need, medical history, parents' history, known or unknown. There's quite an extensive list. Having given this a great deal of consideration, I checked all the boxes except for severe physical or mental needs. I have to be realistic, as a single person, about what I will be able to cope with on my own. I will have to go back to work and therefore I won't be able to give a child with these types of needs the 24 hour care they would require. I mean, it's all pie in the sky at the moment, innit? It's fine to think you are as prepared as you can be for impending motherhood, but I'm under no illusion that I know what's coming. However, this was the only box I didn't check and therefore I was called back into the office for a final interview as, in the words of that best friend the psychologist, 'NO ONE accepts all of these issues.' Ehhh, again, love: ENTER MAZ. 

After this interview, they told me that I would hear the result of whether I was approved to adopt or not in a month. That month obviously came and went. I phoned. I emailed. I showed up at the office. Your man was off sick so they couldn't talk about it. The paper from the office hadn't arrived. A few other reasons. It was all of the rollercoaster of emotions all over again. I thought I was going to find out before my trip to Florida with my family in July. That didn't happen and I assumed the worst. While I was in Florida, I made plans with my family to move home, convinced as I was that they weren't going to approve me and, even if they did, I'd be waiting years to be matched with a child.

The day I left my mum and dad to drive down to visit my friend, I said goodbye knowing that the next time I saw them would be Christmas at Glasgow Airport...with 2 dogs, 1 cat and all of my worldly possessions. That was an absolute certainty. When I arrived at my dear friend's house, that was still the plan...Then came a text from a friend in Peru who had been helping me to find out what was going on with my paperwork (people who know people who know people). She asked if I was sitting down then proceeded to tell me that I was approved. The decision had been made in June but the legal document had been delayed, waiting for a signature. This was 3 August. Man, were we overcome. There were tears, there was laughter, there was complete and utter disbelief that after this, at times torturous journey, they really had approved me. 'You're going to be a mum.' Words that only someone who knows how monumentous this is would really comprehend, I reckon. I'm eternally grateful to have been with one of my Soulmate friends that evening; something that huge needs to be shared. I love you, my favourite Venezolana. Oof, I'm getting all goosebumpy again thinking about that evening. And a wee bit teary again... 

Getting the actual legal bit of paper that says 'Yeah, you're alright, we'll give you a child' was the biggest anticlimax of all time. I went into the office (my actual second home now) and explained I was there to pick up a document. Down comes this wee admin girl and, I swear to all that's swearable to, she just hands me this bit of paper and says 'sign here please' and off she trots back upstairs. No sitting down in a meeting room to give me this life changing news. No interview with any of the people I'd met previously. Literally a wee 16 year old and a bit of paper to sign, standing up at the reception desk. Had I not had my sources, that would be have been my big finding out moment. Actually hilarious. Anyway. That was then and here we are, almost 4 months on and awaiting the final approval to get my baby home. Not long to go! 
M
(Some photos of that special moment)

And after the ficha came the interviews. I think.

I tell you, you take your finger off the whatever for a second and you forget what's going on and what's been already. Fairly certain I know roughly what is coming next but one can never be sure... 

After all the paperwork stuff - doctors and legal stuff and letters saying I have no criminal record and things, I was waiting again for some months. I can't really remember why. Definitely I had to get repeat tests done as some were incorrect or something or my lungs were blurry or something, but I can't really remember why there was such a big gap between this bit and the next bit. Then I went home for Christmas and that meant putting things on hold for about 2 months. So once I arrived back in Peru in February this year, I had to restart the process by way of 5 interviews. Man, oh man. It's difficult to write about this bit as this is when I lost all hope and faith of ever being able to adopt in Peru. 

You see, the psychologist assigned to me a) did not like me, b) did not like that I was single, and c) didn't seem to know much about children. These interviews were, as I understood, to check I was a mentally stable person who knew roughly what I was committing to, wasn't going to bail on the process or, you know, turn out to be an axe murderer or similar. What they were in reality, however, were a series of lectures about how children want two parents. How, when these children are asked (because the child has a voice, don't you know) whether they'd like to go home with a mummy instead of a mummy and a daddy, they would say 'No, no quiero' and turn and walk away. Perhaps this is true of some children. Perhaps it really is. But from the children I've spent time with in these homes, DESPERATE for love and affection, I find it very hard to believe. I also questioned how you would ask a one or two year old child this... apparently they know, too... 

Anyway, after HOURS of this and a questionnaire of no less than 289 multiple choice questions, I had lost hope. Beautiful friends had accompanied me on some of these interviews, including my home visit, and were convinced of the same. My favourite soon to be Tia and I still laugh about how, when during the home visit they had asked about my family, and I explained that I'd left home to go to university at 17, they were HORRIFIED. What an AWFUL life I've had, having gone to get a higher education and lived all over the world with the incredible support and love from my amazing family. HOW AWFUL THAT IS. Really, I've suffered. Sheesh. 

From all of this, I was left in no doubt that this was not to be. They told me that there were NO other single, foreign women who have ever adopted in Peru. Ever. I left a message for a friend telling her this, feeling utterly heartbroken and her words still resound in my head: 

So no one has ever done this before. Sounds like exactly the right path for my trailblazing friend, Marianne. 

ENTER MAZ.