A three-month-old baby in a hospital
Friday, Mar. 15, 2024 - 9:27 pm.

We were called to the adoption office yesterday afternoon because there was "a possibility" for us. We got the call two days prior and we tried not to think much about it. It was just a possibility. It's never only one family being considered, you pretty much apply for the chance to have a child but ultimately it's a judge who decides.

We were presented with the case of a three-month-old baby. He's currently alone in a hospital in a town nearby because the neonatal care wing in our city's hospital is full. The social worker read us his health status since he was born until the present day. He's malnourished and went a few days with fever and diarrhea last week, but he's healthy enough to go now.

His birth mother approached the adoption office before he was born to give him up. She's 23 years old. She had an alcoholic father who'd kick her and her siblings out of the house. She left home at 17. She takes a lot of drugs, she has a diagnostic of depression, and she didn't consent to the sexual relationship that led to this pregnancy. She's currently staying with her sister but she's essentially homeless. She gave birth but hasn't and won't come back to see the baby. I was holding back tears as the social worker read us her story. I'm angry and heartbroken for her, and for the baby too.

Andrew and I confirmed we wanted to be considered to adopt the boy. We cried when we came home from the adoption office, and we've been going back and forth between fantasizing about life with a baby and bracing for the loss of a child that isn't ours to raise. We've told some people, family, friends and colleagues, and it's been sweet to have all that support. Suddenly we realize how many people we've told about our adoption process.

We now have to wait. The adoption office has to find other family or families who could be a match for this baby, and then all our files will be presented to a judge, who will chose the adopting family. Then we'll be notified of the response. All that within 15 to 21 days.

That's too much. That's way too much time to keep a three-month-old alone in a hospital with minimal care, on top of him having been there, well, his whole life so far. I think about him a lot and I'm constantly on the verge of tears. Even if it isn't us, please let this case be resolved fast so the baby can get out of there and go to a loving home as soon as possible.

Best case scenario: It's us. We're his parents. We'll have a few days, if one day at all, to prepare with the basics to welcome a baby before we drive to that town to meet him in the hospital and bring him home with us the next day. We'll be his guardians for a while until the adoption paperwork comes through.

I can get up to five months off work by law. Also by law, Andrew gets five days. Jesus Fucking Christ. We were both getting ready to rock this semester off, and Andrew maybe still will, but for me, the motherhood penalty will hit hard. I even considering not taking the time off, just working from home and having the kid on me all the time like in a pouch or something; he's tiny, he needs the extra human contact anyway. Famous last words: how hard can that be?

Mind you, I'm being neurotic about work not because I care that much for university, but because I have students who are depending on me this semester, for courses and theses. I do not want to leave them hanging. For the most part, though, I have people I trust (colleagues, my PhD student) to leave them in charge of my line of work while I'm away. I'll still pay the motherhood penalty and feel like my value as an academic will diminish greatly, fuck you academia for making me feel this way, but truly, I will be doing things far more important than that with my life.

The trip to my home country with Andrew in May would be off as well. That would crush me because I know it would crush my parents. Every time we talk on the phone they mention our trip and say they're looking forward to seeing us, and they just can't wait. My mom's health is a bit better, but I can still hear her going out of breath when we talk, and things haven't changed at home at all. They both remain sick with various illnesses, locked up at home, in pain, fed-up with everything. I'm scared I don't have the luxury of putting off the trip for a year.

But of course my parents would also be thrilled that Andrew and I are at home with our son* (*we'll always leave room for him to change that if he sees fit as he grows up). And maybe me telling them "we'll put off our trip for a few months and by then it'll be three of us arriving" will give them some life. And maybe that'll make my siblings finally come visit, too.

I often think of Andrew and I picking up the baby at the hospital, then bringing home with the cats. I think about our cats, who also came home with us at three-months-old and they turned out pretty decent. They'll be scared of this new human puppy but maybe if we pair him with snacks, he'll won them over sooner.

I think about him being born on January 2nd. We were on the elevator on our way to our apartment and Andrew moaned that that was his ex's birthday (she was a bit callous when she ended the relationship). Then I told him January 2nd is also Simeon's birthday, per the novel I wrote; he and his sister were born on that date, many years into the future. He knows how important Simeon is for me and he genuinely enjoys my comics and stories, so his eyes teared up when I told him that and he hugged me tightly.

I think about Andrew and I reading him and playing him music of all kinds, and playing with him, and taking him for walks and to the park and shopping for books and baby stuff. I think about cloth diapers and how the hell you get infants to eat. I think we might become slightly poorer. I think about how you bathe them. And about neonatal abstinence syndrome and that we need a pediatrician, and healthcare is so expensive, and about the additional support he'll probably need to catch up after the rough start he's had in life.

We'll try to give him a nice life and be the loving parents that will make that hardship worth it.

Worst case scenario: we're not the chosen family, and none of the above will matter. We'll go on with our life as planned, which isn't half bad.

Both scenarios are simply filled with gains and losses. This is out of our hands now. We can only wait.

We'll wait. Our hearts warm up when we see kids, particularly small ones playing around with their parents or on their way to school with their little backpacks. Andrew squeezes my hand, like asking when will it be our turn. It will come. In a couple of weeks, or in months, maybe in a year. It's been over four excruciating years since we first signed up for the adoption process, but it only took three months since we were approved as a fit family to get a call. I think we have a good profile and we might be what quite a few children need in a family.

Then I just go back to picturing the baby in the hospital. I want to cry and scream at the adoption office and the judge to hurry the fuck up. Even if it's not us, just get the baby out of there.

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