Secret Life of the Long-Term Waiting Parent

(Found this online.....soo true)

Anger. "If there's one more delay, I'm really going to lose it. How come
16-year-olds are walking around the mall with babies and after years of effort, I'm still here with an empty crib and an overly quiet house? It ain't fair, it ain't fair, it ain't fair." (Repeat till you're thoroughly sick of yourself.)

Denial. "Maybe if I just grit my teeth, follow my normal routine, and wave off
questions about the adoption, I can fool myself into thinking that this doesn't hurt." (My fellow waiting parent Chris refers to this as the "just f--- it" attitude, and recounts the following typical interchange. Friend: "Any news from China?" Chris: "Nope." Friend: "When do you think you'll hear something?" Chris: "Beats me. How 'bout those Cubs?")

Compulsive Busywork. "Another month of delay. Great, I'll have time to [insert
laborious time-consuming project here]." (If this drags on much longer, we'll have the best-looking house on the block – but we're spending all our travel money on polyurethane, paint stripper, and drywall.)

It Could Be Worse. A mind game consisting of complaining to people who then come
up with scary adoption anecdotes, presumably to help you view your own situation
more positively. (Example: "You think you've got it bad? Let me tell you about my
sister's co-worker's cousin who went to Bora Bora to adopt and ended up having to [fill in the blank with horrifying details].")

Calendar-Based Mind Games. "Hey, our daughter will be here by [insert favorite
holiday or family milestone here]. Won't that be great?" (Warning: We have now passed a goodly number of our "She'll be here by…" assumptions, so this is a problematic strategy unless you're very conservative. "She'll be here for our 50th wedding anniversary" is probably a relatively safe assumption.)

Parental Paranoia. "Who's taking care of my child?" About six months into our
wait, I began feeling like I'd left a much-loved daughter halfway around the world, and she was getting pretty sick of waiting for me to come get her, and maybe physically sick, too. (Information about the effects of institutionalization exacerbates this sensation; be careful how you internalize it.)

So me right now!----------> Fear of Failure. "I can't do this parenting gig right. I'm going to screw it up. The kid's going to be unhappy and curse me for bringing her here. What on earth made me think this was a good idea?" (Anecdote: Find some happy adoptive families to coax you out of your mood.)

Toys-R-Us Phobia. I used to love shopping for my phantom baby girl. Now I can't
stand it. I've bought my last nipple till there's someone in my house to buy a nipple for.

Info-Phobia. I'm putting away the Leach and Brazelton books, the Lois Malina
adoption books, and all those other fabulous resources collected and eagerly assimilated over the past year. I loved 'em before; I'll love 'em again—but I just can't deal with 'em right now. Give me a big, fat, sleazy, escapist novel.

Serenity and Hope. An all-too-transient state in which I convince myself that
God is in control, that the adoption will happen at the right time, that we'll be assigned the right child, and that all will be most well. (Pulling this off on a daily basis would require more spiritual maturity than I possess--though I really do believe it, way down deep. Or I'd havegone nuts by now.)