One of the books I read recently about adoption describes the long period preceding adoption as an “emotional and administrative pregnancy”. Being in the middle of such a pregnancy now, replete with its forest of paperwork and psychosocial autopsies, it can be disorienting to expect a child without the typical gestational signposts, like inflated knockers or cravings for chocolate-covered pickles. Sometimes, in fact, there are entire days when I deny forget that we will soon be parents to a living, breathing person who’s shamelessly dependent on us.
Naturally, being two women in a relationship together, we talk and talk –
–and talk and talk and talk to deal with our disorientation. There’s no passing time singing to a belly in this house. Nope. We mark abstract, intellectual milestones through good old-fashioned conversation. Especially as we get closer to Placement Day.
We talk everywhere. In the car, in the bathroom and, apparently, in our sleep.
I can only assume that my lobster’s latest sleeptalking adventure spawned directly from all of this recent discussion of family-making.
[12:07 am. The room is dark and otherwise undisturbed when Jenn bursts to life with the gusto of an Ethel Merman encore. Her arms stretch above her like she's unrolling a giant, imaginary scroll from the days of yore.]
Jenn: Look at this. I want one of these!
Erika: What do you want?
Jenn: Hasn’t it been awhile? I don’t know. Family.
Erika: Yes, it has been awhile.
Jenn: Don’t you want to get one?
Erika: Okay.
Jenn: I’m not sure about this. [pause] I really want to get one!
Erika: Let’s get one then.
[pause]
Jenn: [cackling] I don’t even know what you’re on!
Neither do I, honey. Neither do I.
2 Comments
November 6, 2009 at 1:11 pm
giggle, giggle. I hope the waking moments are as good..
November 9, 2009 at 3:32 am
That must be so hard. I can’t even imagine.