My husband wants to adopt my daughter. And I want my daughter to be adopted by him.
This journey, which we've discussed since before we married more than two years ago, is now coming to fruition. We've contacted our attorney, put down the retainer and scheduled our appointment. We are excited and overjoyed with what's about to come. We are moving beyond blending our family; we are melting it. She will be sharing his last name and he will legally be her other parent. This is HUGE for us.
Yet, on the other hand, we know that there is a chance that this could not end up the way we hope. We aren't naïve; there are factors that could come into play and change our plans entirely. It's happened before and it could happen again. And that frightens the hell out of us.
Initially, my husband was going to adopt two of my daughters. We were scheduled to start proceedings in March, on our one-year anniversary. The girls, aware of our plans, were beyond thrilled at the prospect of becoming his. Especially my 12-year-old, who yearned for a positive male figure to fill that blank space. Four months before the appointment, her biological father showed up out of nowhere -- after 10 years of being MIA. Several court hearings and four broken hearts later, her adoption was taken off the table.
Which is why we want to control this process by micromanaging every step. But obviously, that is not how this works. Coming from two people who begin their day planning each and every detail of it, this is completely out of our comfort zone. We are, again, expecting to move forward and not be blindsided by the unexpected. In addition to that, allowing people we have never met to qualify us as a family. The vulnerability we are experiencing and will continue to over the next six months (if we're lucky) leaves us nauseated, to say the least.
To be clear, our family life is nothing to be anxious over. We have a stable home and careers. The kids are more than happy and want for nothing. Both of our families are supportive in every way possible. We are, for lack of a better phrase, living the dream. With that being said, we can't help but feel as if we've willingly entered an unchartered territory -- like we've been blindfolded and led into the woods by complete strangers.
The insecurities have become amplified, causing us to question our motives. Why are we wanting to proceed with the step-parent adoption? Is it that important for a piece of paper to state that my husband is her father? Does her having his last name make her any more his child? Are we being selfish in this decision? Will we survive if this one doesn't go through?
OK, we know we'll make it if for some reason this adoption is denied. Most importantly, we also know that regardless of the outcome, we are staying on this path because our intentions are pure. There is not an ounce of malice or pride driving either one of us. The only motivation we have is simple and common -- love.
My husband is enamored with his new role as a parent and what better way to profess that than by making this commitment? We can be secure in the knowledge that receiving a notarized piece of paper will only be just that --a piece of paper. The man who raises my children, who would do and does anything and everything for them, is now and will always be the one they call dad.
The stones we have to uncover, the hills and valleys we come across are anyone's guess at this point. There are no guarantees on where this will lead or where we'll end up, but we are certain of two things: Wherever that is, it won't be the end of the road and we'll still be together as a family. Our family.