Reasons

I rack my brain trying to figure out a reason all of this happened. To me. Why ME? No, not me, why US? To me, to Doug, and to Ingrid.

But most of all, to me.

Sorry to sound so selfish, but that's just how I'm feeling. Ingrid is WITH her family, she is with her biological family (because I choose to believe Big T on that, and because I haven't seen her face in any of the orphanage pictures I've scoured). Doug, well, I don't know how upset he still is over losing Ingrid. He talks about it, but he's afraid to talk too much because he doesn't want to bring up anything that's going to set me off. I see him looking at other kids, I know he knows what I'm thinking. It really has been a constant this year, everything we do is with the knowledge that a child is not here. Not that Ingrid isn't here, but that any child isn't here. MY child. Our child.

I know all things happen for a reason, but I don't yet know what that reason is. I get the whole "G-d's perfect timing," but I don't understand why I have to do this stupid dissertation. I'm resentful of it now, actually. When I started this program almost five years ago, I did it because I wanted to learn to do research. I wanted to challenge myself. I wanted to find out how to figure out a problem and then do a study to prove things. I wanted to make a name for myself in the field of educational research. And I still want those things for myself. When I'm in "the zone" of working on the study, I get very excited, genuinely excited down to my core that I'm doing what I really want to do. But most of the time, I'm just sad that I have to finish the dissertation and won't consider the mom thing until the dissertation is over. (Dissertation, not the defense. Defense is April, graduation is May, that's all too late to start on "my plan." Dissertation is actually DUE on February 1 to meet those other dates, so February 2 is the day I want to activate "my plan.")

I often think about the people I started this journey with. Those that came along with me for moral support. Those I hugged in Guatemala when I was with Ingrid, and those that were with me in Guatemala as I started to piece together the nightmare was really becoming. I watch with envy and joy as they brought their children home, as they celebrated their first holidays as a family, and in many cases as they started (and finished) another adoption process. But I've also watched virtual friends get stuck in nightmares of their own, agencies that don't tell the complete story, facilitators that make up excuses, and worst of all governments that change the rules mid-stream.

I was reading through Cheri's blog, the archives section. I remember distinctly the entry I was looking at, the first time I saw it. My stat counter was WAAAY up one day (I was checking it weekly then, now it's maybe once a month if I think about it), and I got tons of hits from Cheri's blog. I checked it out, and saw how my story scared her because of her own cedula problem. I am so grateful that her problem was not like mine. I will forever be sorry that I caused her even a second of worry, thinking that because my cedula turned out to be fraudulent (although I hadn't revealed all of that publicly yet, I was still hoping Joanne would pull through for me, stupid me) that, well, you know what we all thought.

But if it weren't for MY cedula, I wouldn't have known about Cheri's story.

If it weren't for that darned dissertation, I might not get those supportive comments from Michelle.

If it weren't for that Horrible No Good agency, I wouldn't have met some great friends.

If it weren't for the entire DNA debocle, I definitely wouldn't have "met" Jill.

I have a choice to make. I can sit here and remember what happened two years ago, and what happened one year ago, and what is NOT happening now. I can wallow in that misery. I can let it consume me some more. OR I can finish my dissertation this weekend. I can clean my house and prepare for "my plan." I can get working on the fundraiser I have planned, because I'm going to have LOTS of free time after the dissertation is finished :-). I can balance my checkbook, cook a real meal, sort my papers, pack up the Ingrid box once and for all, and move on with my life.