I have been getting some serious procrastination done lately. It's intense. And scary.
It's not the usual kind where you do the laundry to avoid doing the dishes or whatever. This is the mental kind where you fill your immediate brain space to avoid thinking of something you don't want to think about.
In my case I've been playing solitaire to avoid having to consider the complex decision making process of whether or not to adopt. I'm surprised and dismayed even that I'm not as sure about it as I thought I was.
Actually, I am sure about the adoption part. I have wanted to adopt ever since I learned about the dancer, Josephine Baker, who adopted 12 children. I thought, "why make a baby when there are so many babies and kids out there already who need a loving family?". I was probably eight years old at the time and the notion became one of the few concrete dreams/ideals of my childhood I carried into adulthood.
The problem is the actual kid. The second kid. It's one thing to straggle along with one child who, being biological, kind of just "happened" and therefore forces a change. I mean, excepting the son's bouts with severe "threeyearolditis" (aka intensely expressed feelings over mindboggling minutiae), we've really just now gotten things kind of figured out. We all generally know our roles and daily rhythms. A baby, regardless of female of origin, does not fit into what we've pieced together. A baby means starting over almost from scratch, except this time we'll know it's coming.
But in the case of our adoption it's not just mildly insane to actively make the choice to do a lot of work (applications, background checks, home visits, etc) and spend a lot of money (at least $25-30K) to acquire someone else's helpless and crying baby who will, to an unknown degree yet without doubt, cause everything to turn upside-down via sleep deprivation, existing toddler regression and an overall cost and life complication increase.
Still, even with all that I know she's out there. I know our family is short by one. My husband says the same, and that's in spite of his even greater doubts/fears. So my choice is to lean into the feeling of promise I get that speaks of her impending arrival instead of cold, unyielding logic. As Sister Louisa says, "F*#k fear."