the worst case scenario

We didn't get chosen again. Third time.

Strangely, our feeling is more one of relief than sadness.

Oh, we're sad. No question. Everything we'd heard about the birth mother seemed right for us. We could see it happening. We are ready to be parents.

The relief is just having an answer. We'd been waiting a week. Today, Angie was particularly on edge, because we knew we'd get some kind of answer. It took all her will power to stay calm. I gave her little tasks to do around the house until she left for work. Just things to keep her mind occupied, or at least her body while her mind was running a thousand miles a minute.

The reason I call this post "the worst case scenario," is that this is really what it is. We're either chosen or not. The worst case scenario is not being chosen. We've experienced it before, we know what it feels like, and it's not great, but it's OK. It's survivable. It's just more waiting.

Apparently, we were the second choice, which is good. The reason the birth mother didn't choose us is something that we simply cannot, or will not, change about our lives. And we're fine with that. It means, very clearly, that this was not the right situation for us. But the right one is already on its way.

Rather than just wait, we're going to make a list. The last things we need to do to really be prepared. Final preparations in the room. Making sure the car seats are clean and ready. And a few extra things. We're probably going to create adoption profiles and printed cards. It's now been just over a year of waiting, and we need to feel like we're putting some of this process back in our own hands.

So now is a time for regrouping and more preparations.

That's a worst case scenario I can live with.