My Gay Adoption Day 200 :: Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "Patience and fortitude conquer all things." I believe that, and I also believe, as one Greek proverb opines, "One minute of patience, ten years of peace." Clearly, neither of these brilliant philosophers were thinking gay adoption (although yes, there's some evidence that Emerson, at least, was bisexual, given the homoerotic poetry he wrote about one Martin Gay - but it seems unlikely that he and Mr. Gay adopted a child together). But their thoughts, far from insipid platitudes, resonate with me today. It's the 200th day of our journey to adopt a child together, and Kevin and I are like two zen warriors, mildly persevering through the wait, taking the lack of communication from our agency in stride, blissing out to the opportunities life presents to those without babies - such as movies, sleep and sex. We're good. Really we are.

Oh. Except for those moments when someone poses this disgusting, inappropriate, inconsiderate, horrid, insensitive, cruel, hateful, heartless question: "So, any news on the adoption?"

I know, I know; they don't mean to be mean. They're simply wondering and hoping, just as we are. It's a measure of support, I'm sure. And this blog, in that just about every person who has asked said terrible question will read it in it's first day of posting, will likely incite dozens of comments on Facebook to the tune of, "I'm sorry I made you angry, I just care and I wanted to know if you'd heard anything."

To all of you, we know. The question is not ill-meant, clearly; and we do appreciate the well-wishes. But - and this is meant as an educational moment, not as a dig - let's break down the question, shall we? And we'll also consider the emotional impact on the waiting family's side.

Once the documentation has been completed, the fees paid, and the initial excitement of prepping for a baby faded, the adoptive family then settles in for what often is a lengthy wait - in many cases, this can take up to three years. During that time, they will often receive limited feedback, limited support, and limited communication from their agency. This too is not ill-meant; agencies are often staffed by overworked individuals who are doing their very best to place children into happy, loving families, and while they care a great deal for the parents who are in their stable waiting for said infants, they cannot be expected to provide weekly therapy for those with insecurities, much less those who suffer from little more than impatience. But the result is that we, the couples who are staring at the phone and willing it to ring, are left to wonder: Have our adoption books been sent out? If not, why? If so, we haven't matched - is there something wrong with us? Why hasn't a birth mother picked us? Are there too many couples waiting? Too few birth mothers calling? Have the Republicans finally convinced the world that gay adoption is evil?

To an insecure individual, these questions are not just daunting; they can be crippling. I'll point out that putting your photos, your friends and family, and your personal lives into the hands of complete strangers to be "judged" as appropriate parents for any number of prospective children can be a truly frightening act. Gay men are used to being judged based on looks; but it's deeply unnerving to be judged on that basis for something deeper than dating. And for those of you who wonder how people are thinking about you when you have a bad hair day - put yourself on anti-anxiety medications before you start down this road. It feels, on many days, as if you have laid bare your identity, only to wonder blindly on a daily basis if you're not measuring up to some standard you don't comprehend.

I'm not an insecure individual, however; I take this process with a certain equanimity. Invisible, perhaps non-existent, individuals cannot hurt me with imagined scorn for my lifestyle or a casual review of my wardrobe. And Kevin and I have settled peacefully into the wait.

But then, that question pops up.

Here's the truth, friends and family: if we get matched with a birth mother, even provisionally, we're going to let everyone know. Those close to us will get a call, and the rest of you will read about it here on EDGE the very day it happens. So the question, to begin with, is absolutely unnecessary. The same is no doubt true of every other couple waiting to be matched; when they get the call, they'll burn up the phone wires telling those who need to know. There's no point in even asking the question, therefore: the answer will always be the same.

More importantly, please understand that every time we're asked that question, it produces three unfortunate results.

First, we're forcibly reminded that we're still in limbo. We know this; we don't need to be reminded of it.

Second, we're required to perform verbal actualization of the fact that we've not matched: "No, we haven't gotten the call yet." This is often an actual teeth-grating moment for prospective adoptive parents, not just because it's frustrating to say, but moreso because I doubt people who are not in our position can comprehend exactly how many times per week we have to utter this.

And third - and most significant of all - we must parse out what most likely is a joyful expression of hope from what our psyches proclaim each time the question is asked: that we have been judged and have come up wanting. Lots of people - professionals in the field included - have told Kevin and I that we are the perfect parents-to-be, that our book is beautiful and expressive, and that it won't be long before we greet a newborn addition to our home. Imagine, if you will, the pressure that puts on a couple as time goes by. Admittedly, we've been actually waiting in the system for only a matter of months - not a long time at all. But time spent waiting distills into a compressed state; a month seems like a year. And if we remain sanguine about our future as a family, it is because of our strength together, and because we face each day with hope. If a birth mother has seen our book and not chosen us, it's OK. The right baby will come to us in time.

So. You're wondering to yourself: if I can't ask about that process directly, what am I to do?

If you're friends or family to a waiting couple, do this: tell them how excited you are to see them welcome a child into their lives, and into yours. Talk about your future relationship with the adoptee. Tell them how proud you are that they are taking on this emotionally difficult journey, and express to them how it makes you feel to wait along with them. These are ways to share in the wait and provide support to the couple during an emotionally difficult time. And rest assured that when the call comes, they will thank you by telling you right away, so that you can share immediately in that part of the process, too.