metaphors about waiting

There’s a classic image in old movies when a woman is going to give birth. While Mother disappears behind a set of swinging doors, surrounded by doctors and nurses, Father paces the waiting room, wondering if Mom and Junior are safe.

I can’t quite say it’s like that for me right now, but it’s pretty close. Angie typically experiences the high emotions, or rather a more intense version of the various emotions we’ve been going through. The longing, frustration, sadness, joy, excitement, nervousness. Meanwhile, I metaphorically pace. Meaning, I try to find some way to channel all these same emotions. Angie experiences them, and I pace them out. Dive into work, read a book, read a magazine, clean up the kitchen, watch TV, check email, Twitter. All the distractions you can think of. While she’s blogging, and building a small community of adoptive parents both online and in the real world, I’m business as usual, but more so.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not feeling it too. Everyone has their coping mechanism. I think it’s more typical of men to look outside for theirs, and women to turn inside. Regardless, I’ve recently taken up the practice of meditation in the mornings. I find 6 minutes is about as much as I can handle for the time being, though I’d love to build up to 10 one day. I’m by no means perfect... they call the scattered thoughts that bounce around your head “monkey mind,” and mine is the monkeyest. But I do find that if I’m at least consistent, it sets the tone of the day as positive, and that can carry through all the other stuff that crops up.

At the end of the day, we lie in bed and share a short list of things we’re grateful for. It’s usually the same things every night, with minor variations depending on what’s happened in the past day or so. Again, it’s a nice way to cap off the day and to remain focused on the positive, no matter what’s gone on during waking hours. I find I’ve been sleeping better too.

This past week, the biggest thing we’re grateful for is, of course, that we’ve been presented to a birth mother. We’ve been waiting for an answer since last Tuesday, but I keep trying to remind myself that no news is good news. Every time we’ve been presented in the past, we got the “no” within a few hours. So this is by far the longest time we’ve been stuck in this limbo. Today, literally today, we could start the day as we normally do, and end it as parents. It’s pretty wild.

I feel like Luke heading into the Death Star canyon: “Stay on target... stay on target.” There’s clocks floating around my head. Calendar pages flipping past. And every other cliche about the passage of time.

I decided to wear a t-shirt today in honor of the occasion. It’s got an image of a Scrabble hand that’s all high-value consonants. Q, Z, X, etc. Everyone who sees the shirt who plays Scrabble immediately “ooohs,” and then realizes what’s missing. There’s no vowels. You’ve got a great set of letters but possibly no way to use them. Success or a missed turn depends entirely on outside forces: what’s on the board, or what the other player lays down in their turn. That is possibly the best metaphor for our situation. We have a lot to be grateful for, but we’re at the mercy of outside forces.

So no wonder I’m pacing the waiting room like an expectant Dad. Cause that’s exactly what I am.