A Rough Day

The wait for a child is wearing on us both today.  My other half took a week of vacation, in anticipation of having a child to adjust to.  Clearly, that’s not happening this week, and likely will not happen until sometime after we receive our permanent foster case license in January.  (We have a temporary license now.)  That timeline assumes our home study has been typed up and submitted by our social worker, and since we have not heard from her with additional questions, I have no choice but to assume things are transpiring as she told us during her visit a few weeks back: Home study report submitted the week between Christmas and New Year’s (this week), permanent license in the mail in early January, and then the wait for a phone call from case workers.

Yes, the wait has worn on us.  Lately, my partner has been quite vocal in telling me I always have to be right, that I’m overbearing, etc.  “You can’t ever let me be right,” he has said with some frequency.  I chalked it up to adjustment issues with him now being on the day shift and we’re together much more than we ever were prior.  However, it happened again this morning and I snapped.  I was livid.  I am so tired of being told that, tired of being made to feel like I’m some impossible jerk to deal with.  That I’m in any way like my father.

So I removed myself from his presence.  Wherever he was in the house, I wasn’t.  I holed myself away in my office for the most part, and erred on the side of silence being preferable to what I really wanted to say.  We eventually started talking briefly after a few hours, and he thankfully left for awhile.  I did some yoga to clear my head, and when he got back home, I told him I was tired of fighting and that if a child was going to make us fight about stupid things, then I didn’t want a child.  And I meant that.  I do not want my relationship to change for the worse because of a child being in the mix.

I don’t want to become my parents.

My feelings are still raw and frayed, but I’m not as much of an emotional tinderbox as I was earlier today.  I’ve spent so much time and energy trying to prevent myself from becoming like my parents in all the bad ways, and I’ve been pretty successful in many ways.  I think of the pictures in a photo album from when I was an older teenager.  Mom and Dad clearly miserable.  Me clearly miserable.  Brian and Amy clearly miserable.  I don’t want those pictures from the past to be pictures from my future.  I’ve got to get him to see that we cannot take our stresses and disappointments about not being parents on each other.  I’d just as soon stop the adoption process than let the strength of relationship be eaten away.

The past will not become my future.


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