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I should remind myself of that more often. It’s weird, it’s like the older a day gets, the easier it is to lose control and spiral down into the darkness just as the day does. Late last night as I sat with one dog on either side of me for comfort, I was wondering just where The Boy and I were going to go from here. The wondering soon led to worrying and the worrying to the beginnings of an anxiety attack, so I forced myself to stop thinking about it until today.

This morning, I felt stronger and more able to consider my options. I immediately set aside the high-risk choices such as surrogacy and baby-snatching (oh come one, you knew I wasn’t really going to resort to that, didn’t you?) and concentrated on what was left, which really isn’t much when your own body has decided to mutiny. Childlessness (or, as I’ve heard it called, Selfish or Child Free Baby Hater), foster parenting, adoption or more IVF (and there’s still only a 30% chance at the high end). And I think I’ve come to a decision.

One of my Christmas gifts to The Boy is that I will now talk about adoption.

Right from the start, I’ve been answering “No” on questionnaires and in interviews whenever that question reared its ugly head. While I realize there’s absolutely nothing wrong with fostering and adoption, for that period of time I needed to believe 100% that I would, with the help of the latest in technology, be able to conceive and carry a child on my own. And I believed that it was only a matter of time until people were disregarding my personal space and rubbing my belly like I was a redheaded Buddha. Truth be told, I was sort of looking forward to it, although my sister assured me once it started to happen I would feel like an object and probably start wanting to mentally swat those hands away.

I have no idea what the situation in this province is on wait times, but I do know that I am now okay with putting us on a list. Surprisingly okay, really. I had no idea how relieved I would feel knowing that I have this as a fall-back position, since before yesterday it wasn’t even a consideration. The Boy wants kids and other than packing a bag and letting him get on with life with a fertile woman, adoption is now our only path. Now I only have to grapple with the feeling that I want to wait for an infant, an unformed little person who will only know us as their parental figures.

Fingers crossed that The Boy sees my present as a present and not as a ruination of his holiday and a remembrance of what will never be at this time every year.

Posted at 11:35 a.m.