Dylan Stafford

Yawn. Good morning. About 6:40m in southern California.

We’re going to adopt a baby…

Or, at least I think we are.

My wife and I have been thinking about adoption for over five years. We started the topic back when we were told we couldn’t have a biological pregnancy.

“You have less than a 2% chance to get pregnant naturally. I can suggest an egg donor; we could get you an egg from a blond, blue-eyed donor. Or, here is the number of an adoption attorney.” Thus spoke our fertility doctor, after six months of lab tests on Marisa’s body.

That was a tough chapter in my marriage and in my life.

I’d just always assumed I’d be a dad someday. Then, it was presented to me “maybe not.” Maybe no daddyhood for you.

My book Daddy Muscles got started during this phase of my life, as I asked myself, what do I now? How important is daddyhood anyway? If I can’t be a dad, is that the end of the world? Have a I failed somehow? Will my life be somehow “wasted?” What’s this mean about my marriage?

I asked a lot of questions. I prayed a lot. God, I’m here. What’s this all about? What’s the plan, big man?

Adoption.

Five years ago, we started down the adoption-education pathway. We talked to family and friends who have adopted. We got started learning about adoption, and then our miracle happened and Marisa got pregnant naturally. She’d gone to an Eastern Doctor, an American woman named Dr. Wilson who’d studied in China for five years and learned about fertility.

Accupuncture, warm protein with every meal, less time-zone-crossing travel, no ice, no yogurt. All this plus more was the coaching from Dr. Wilson. The coaching worked. My wife’s cycle regulated, something it had never done her whole life.

28 days. 28 days. 28 days. Boom. We were pregnant.

I watched all this happen, from “Less than 2% chance” to “That’s a heartbeat on the sonogram; You guys have a baby in there” and it all humbled me.

It’s all so important, making a family. And, it occurred for me like I was along for the ride. I couldn’t control it, speed it up, slow it down, determine if it would really happen. It was a great chance to be powerless.

And here we are now.

Adoption.

Kind of similar to pregnancy, and kind of something new entirely.

We’ve been thinking newly, again, about adoption. This whole year, we’ve had the topic on the table. Lots of new questions, options, actions to take. Domestic adoption? International? Boy? Girl? Healthy? Special needs? Ethnicity? Infant? Toddler? Foster care? One baby? Sibling set?

Boom. I’m back to square one. Kind of overwhelmed. Fight, flight or freeze? Maybe I’ll freeze, and wait for “the answer” to come. But not really. We’ve been in action. We’ve found an adoption agency. We’ve been to the two-hour orientation. We’ve been to the two-hour intake interview, and been accepted. We’ve gotten our big stack of paperwork to complete and return with our first check.

We’ve lost the big stack of almost-completed paperwork…

We’ve somehow hidden it from ourselves, and even though we’ve searched for two weeks, we can’t find it. All three doctor’s visits, financial statements, an emergency evacuation plan, consent forms, all of it we’ll have to do again.

My father has a saying, “If all that’s between you and the money is the paperwork, then do the paperwork.”

I’m adapting his saying to adoption. “If all that’s between us and adoption is the paperwork, then–now in our case– re-do the paperwork.”

It’s 7:02AM here in Los Angeles. It’s overcast with the marine layer of early morning clouds. The sky is lightening softly. Marisa’s finishing her shower, as she has an early appointment. Jackson’s still in his bed, sleeping in his Batman pajamas, my four-an-a-half year old first-born.

I’ll never have a “second-born” but we do have the chance to expand our family. We have the chance to adopt.

I’m still full of “What about-s?” and “Is this the right thing-s?” When I intellectually think about more children, about the money, time, space, details of having a larger family, I still get overwhelmed. But this is a bigger decision than just my “thinking.”

The saving grace? Grace. If this is supposed to be, it will be. If not, not.

My job? Take the footsteps.

The results? Not my business. I’m staying out of the results business, and focusing on footsteps. First footsteps, re-do the papers. Mail them back. Today, go to work. Be present. Laugh. Trust. Be here now.

Happy Thursday.