Never a Normal Day

January 27, 2009.  That was the day that changed our life forever.  I vowed I would never ever treat January 27th as a "normal" day.

Here I am. January 27, 2016.  And I forgot. And Jeff forgot,  And probably a few other people forgot.

We all forgot.

And that makes me horribly sad and disappointed in myself. We vowed it would never be "just a day."  We vowed it would be OUR day to celebrate OUR family. And we forgot.

Seven very short years ago, we became a family.

Leading up to that day, we endured some very curious inspections and paperwork.

Being a prospective adoptive couple, we had to have our home inspected by the Fire Marshall. I was tasked with creating and posting fire escape routes from every room in the house.  We were looking to adopt an infant, and apparently this infant could read an escape plan?  Amazing! Everyone does that, right?  A little adoption humor.  The things we were asked to do, are things anyone who wants to parent should do to prepare.  Fire escape routes, fire ladders, fire extinguishers, smoke detectors; everyone should have those.  But, the State only checks those of us who wish to adopt or foster.  Maybe they want to see if we are extra prepared?

This fall, Jeff and I found ourselves in a mess of smoke/CO detectors that were "dying."  It took us a minute, but we realized their lifespan was 7 years.  So, this year we replaced every single one, laughing at the couple that was so nervous 7 years ago for their fire inspection.

Another fun visit, was our home study.  A few things to highlight for the home study:
1. All toxins locked up
2. Have access to a phone
3. Have running water
4. Room for child needs a window

Jeff placed all our toxic chemicals in a locked area.   We assured the social worker we HAD a working phone (bonus points for us)!!! We had clean running water, electric and a room for the baby.  Per the State,  the "baby" room also had to have a window; thankfully, the room had one.  Phew! Our home was inspected, baby latches in place, and boxes on the form were checked off to ensure we followed the letter of the law to allow a child into our home.  Our dobermans were well behaved, as were our cats.  Luckily, the law does not mind what pets you owned.  We were interviewed on how we would raise a child, and how we would discipline our potential child - because, as a non-parent, you have all the right answers.  We read books on Adoption, Reactive Attachment Disorder, Open Adoption, and Parenting Your Adoptive Child.  We learned to use positive adoption language.  We began to educate anyone who would listen to use the words "placed" for adoption, or "made a birth plan" versus hearing the words "gave up the baby."  I still give anyone the stink-eye who dares ask why "he" was "given up."

Once Connor was born, we had visits every month with our social worker.  She had to lay eyes on Connor, and both of us.  Probably like most prospective adoptive parents, the early visits, the house was immaculate.  I displayed pretty flowers on the table and I remember offering light snacks.  By the sixth visit, I was a Mom of an infant (who was also hiding a surprise pregnancy), the house was filled with all of the best plastic Playskool toys a 6 month old could want, bottles covered the counter tops, baby paraphernalia was everywhere; light snacks, flowers and an immaculate house were a thing of the past.

Then the court date was set.  January 27, 2009.

I was terrified our social worker or lawyer or Connor's birth-mom, or anyone would find out I was pregnant and take Connor from us.  Logically, I  knew my pregnancy should not factor into our adoption.  However, being pregnant changed me from being an infertile to a fertile.  Therefore, I felt a bit of a liar to all involved parties.  I felt it best to keep my blessing close to me, but looking back, it's pretty cool that CC was even there to share in our first ever family day- even of she was just a SeaMonkey.

The morning of the court date, was ice and snow.  4 inches to be exact.  For the next two days, more snow and ice would fall and close down the city, including the courthouse.  But, somehow, our court date stuck.  Our Magistrate arrived, our lawyer arrived, our family arrived and it was time.  I cannot recall much of that experience.  I remember walking into the courtroom, holding Connor on my lap, and just waiting to hear the sound of the word "finalized" and hearing that gavel hit the block.  Done. It was over.  We were a family.

We jumped each hoop, we rode that long roller coaster, we endured, we loved, we had faith, and we were finally a family.  After eight years we were rewarded two fold.  We had a beautiful son, and were expecting a SeaMonkey.  We vowed never to let January 27th be a normal day for us; it was our Family Day.  Our personal celebration for the four of us. We agreed we would take off this day and play hooky to be with each other.

I forgot Family Day today.  Jeff did too.  We have all been so consumed with trying to get me over the hump of chemo, we forgot.  I feel like a heel.  I'm amazed I forgot.  Like my birthday, we will just post-phone our celebration.  I will feel good Saturday.  We will have our post-family day celebration then, and we will have fun.  We will celebrate.