Monday, July 4, 2011

Another Op'nin', Another Show

Another op'nin', another show
In Philly, Boston or Baltimo',
A chance for stage folks to say hello,
Another op'nin' of another show.
Another job that you hope, at last,
Will make your future forget your past,
Another pain where the ulcers grow,
Another op'nin' of another show.
Four weeks, you rehearse and rehearse,
Three weeks and it couldn't be worse,
One week, will it ever be right?
Then out o' the hat, it's that big first night!
The overture is about to start, 
You cross your fingers and hold your heart,
It's curtain time and away we go!

When it comes to the adoption process, I'm feeling like the stagehands and extras in Kiss Me, Kate faced with performance after performance of one show after another in city after city, hoping to finally reach the promised land of a big hit and the bright lights of Broadway.

I haven't written much in the last few months because, honestly, there hasn't been much to write about since the disruption and there's only so often that I can write (or anyone can read) about a lack of progress.

We biked into town today for the big July 4th parade and we were both thinking "another holiday, another month" without a baby. This is our third Independence Day since deciding to embark on this journey and it's feeling like it will never end, like there will never be a kid to clap and cheer with us for the marching bands, to cover her ears with her mom when the guys in Revolutionary War outfits fire their muskets, to run out into the parade route to hug the poor people walking in 95 degree weather while dressed as Elmo or Cookie Monster.

Intellectually I know it will eventually happen. Emotionally, I have trouble staying optimistic and so, instead, I'm just trying to ignore it now. I compartmentalize it. I don't think about it. The crib and the changing table, the glider and the baby clothes that we bought in February and March -- they are just background noise now and don't really register when I walk by our former guest room/future nursery. I get up, I go to work, I ride my bike. We read, we write, we go to museums, we visit with friends and family, we make plans for future events and we really don't take into account that we might have a baby at some point in the future. It's become an abstraction, which feels both like a loss as well as a necessary step to allow us to continue moving on.

Yes, it will happen in the future. It has, too. I need to believe it will. But until then, I just need to keep hoofin' it, making the trek to Philly, Boston, and Baltimo'. Eventually we'll get the Call again and the curtain will finally, finally go up on the next act.


Jenn said...

I can't decide what is worse... to have a disruption, or to never have been matched at all. We are right on 6 months from our failed, and my heart still hurts when I think about it, but just like you, the belief that someday, it will happen, brings me some comfort. I'm ready to see us both go to the next act!

Chris said...

Hi Jenn. Like you, I'm not sure which is worse though I'm leaning toward "been so close only to see it fall apart". Thanks for your comments and your good wishes. I certainly appreciate yours and look forward to reading in your blog when it finally happens for you and your husband.