I panic a little less every day. Which seems odd to me because every day is one day closer to HUGE amounts of unknown.

I don’t want it to sound like I’m dismissing the unknown of motherhood in general… let’s be clear… NOBODY knows how it is going to go. But the difference is this, I think… if I were able to just get knocked up and give birth, I would at least know where I was going to be starting, right?

I have no clue. Three years old or younger. THAT is the extent of my knowledge. Well… three years old or younger and not today. Tomorrow doesn’t look promising either. We are in wait and see mode right now. We are waiting for our social worker to get started on our home study. We have finished our classes. I was… underwhelmed by the amount of information we received. I don’t feel that they necessarily prepared me for anything with regards to parenting a foster child. But what I learned about the way the foster care system worked and how to navigate it was probably vital information.

And then I think about it and realize that it was probably impossible for them to prepare us. They can mention things that we could possibly encounter. They can try and prepare us. But they have no more clue than I do what is going to happen. Who is going to come through our door.

As I’m starting to try and prepare our house, stuff-wise, I’ve realized that this is what would normally send me into a panicked tailspin. But… I’m okay. I think that finally allowing myself to accept that there is no concrete information has allowed me to just roll with it. We’ll get a bed. A crib. Some clothes. Books, toys. Whatever. We will just wait and see.

I’ve spent so much of the past 7 or 8 years in “wait and see” mode. Wait and see what the doctor says to do next. Wait and see if you are pregnant. Wait and see if you are going to have another miscarriage. Wait and see if you are strong enough to try this again. So “wait and see” has always been a heartbreaking thing but now I feel like I get to redefine it.

Make no mistake about it, I’m not blowing sunshine up anyone’s ass here, least of all my own. I know, without a doubt, that this is going to be the hardest thing we have ever done. My heart will break into a million pieces, heal and do it all over again. Probably on a daily basis. We will probably get our hopes up for an adoption and it won’t work out. But I think that knowing this, saying this, writing this from the beginning of this whole new life we are about to step in to, makes it a little easier.

So we wait. We see. We hope. And every day I breathe a little easier because it all finally makes sense to me.