The Baby Convergence

     ::knock:: ::knock:: Yes, hello? You're looking for whom? Oh, the verbose yet taciturn gentlemen with no hair? Follow me, he's right over there by the window. Let me warn you, be careful when speaking to him, as he is startled by loud noises, and you don't want to see him startled. Why? It's just not pretty. Ok, here we are. Just remember what I told you about him.

     Y-yes? Who are you? Go away. I want to take a nap. Oh, you're one of my readers. That's ok, then. Sit down, rest a spell. You want me to tell another strory? Ok, I suppose since you've come all this way, that you should get something for your time. Let me think. Hmmm, what story to tell you? Oh, I know. This story is called the Baby Convergence. It begins, "Once upon a time..."

     Once upon a time, Heather and I started making a plan to adopt a child (sorry to keep harping on this, but as that is the purpose of this blog, I need to keep mentioning it).Once we did that, we began to notice something strange. Many of our friends, acquaintances, FB followers, etc., were all getting pregnant just as we were learning that it might take us two years to adopt. Everywhere I look, I see couples who are pregnant, and proudly displaying the sonogram photos for everyone's enjoyment. I am afraid to look behind me, for fear that a large group of pregnant ladies will be chasing me (I realize this sounds like a paranoid delusion, but it is really a hyperbolic statement of satire). There is even a name for this condition of seeing relevant data in irrelevant places. It is officially known as Blue Car Syndrome, but given that my interest is not in blue cars (nor do I own said car), I think that calling it the Baby Convergence is much more effective. And enjoyable. And humorous. And.
     Although the Baby Convergence is an intriguing way to approach the study of human observation, what is more meaningful to me is how much the Baby Convergence is teaching me about myself. Specifically, how impatient I am. Now, I realize that most of you already know how impatient I am, but this discovery is new to me. I always had some inkling that I was not the most patient person by nature (shocking, I know), but was totally unaware of the depth of my own impatience. Before this experience, I assumed that I was fairly level-headed, and able to keep perspective on things. I now know that I am not level-headed when I can't get what I want, when I want it (and to you readers who are Shewamegonites, I am sure this comes as no surprise). And so, I am beginning the very arduous, and irritating, process of becoming more patient. Every day, I need to remind my self that there is an endgame in play, and that I just need to hang on long enough to see it. Or, pull out my hair trying. Oh, wait...
     Anyway, it occurs to me that perhaps this waiting period can be used as a test. I am told that parents need patience more than just about anything else except for sleep. Perhaps then, this waiting period should be viewed as a test. I have long advocated the idea that if possible, people should be forced to take a parenting exam prior to having or adopting a child. Perhaps, just perhaps, this is my version of that test. If I can't be patient over the course of a year or two, how can I possibly be patient over the course of 20+ years of a child trying to give me a heart-attack via their foolish actions. And once we do adopt, there are no do-overs, or take-backsies, so I guess I need to learn now, not later. For those of you who know me well, I hope you can view these few years with a sense of comic-relief (and yes, you can have a sense like that [to my ravenous grammar and English teacher friends, I know that this is not TECHNICALLY correct, and so although my syntax is not perfect here, my sense of the language shines through]). If you are ever having a bad day, just picture me trying to be patient, and I think you will laugh hard enough to make your bad day turn good. See? This blog IS good for something.
     Another interesting note about the Baby Convergence is how much it has opened my eyes to the subculture of adoption. Prior to starting this endeavor, I was only aware of a few people who had tried to, or sucessfully completed, the adoption process. Now, however, I am meeting more and more people who are in the same boat as I am. And I am learning, to my great relief, that many of these people are as impatient as I am. I realize that this is textbook schadenfreude (look it up people), but it makes me feel better about my own lack of patience. Or, is it really normal, and I am not impatient after all? No, that doesn't sound at all right. I suppose I should revise that idea. Ok, I am impatient, but at least I am in good company. If a group of impatient people who are trying to be patient can be seen as good company. I suppose it could equally be viewed as a powder keg about to explode. Which, for those not involved, has the potential to be quite funny. I highly recommend that you all send words of encouragement to Heather, as she is living next to the powder keg. She needs all the help she can get. Maybe you, Dear Reader, can take turns with her, as she guards me on my quest for patience. Either that, or send her a plane ticket for Hawaii, so she can relax after dealing with me all the time. That poor, poor girl.

     "...and they lived happily ever after." Did you like the story? I hope so. My story-telling isn't what it used to be. All I do is talk to the walls, and stare out the window, so I'm not that great at relating stories any more. I do hope you'll come back; it gets lonely around here at this time of year. Ahh, here is the orderly. No doubt, he is here to take you back to the front desk. Thanks again for the visit.

     So, how was he? Oh, that's good. He doesn't talk much anymore, so I'm glad he opened up to you. You didn't startle him, did you? Good. Any chance we can talk you into coming back again? We think that if he talks enough, he may function well enough to one day get out of here. We hope you enjoyed your time, and will be willing to volunteer here more often. Oh, really? He told you THAT story? I can see why you don't want to return. Well, hopefully you will change your mind. Have a nice afternoon.