Our first meeting with a social worker (in our home) should take place in a couple weeks. Almost two years to the date of our original application.
I am not really afraid of a home study. I am not ashamed of any part of my life. I am completely comfortable talking to anyone about anything.
It might be a good opportunity to donate at least two car loads full of clothes that don't even fit anymore. It might also be a good time to clean out some of the cupboards where band-aid boxes and hair gel bottles get stuffed into the darkness so I don't have to see them out on the bathroom counter.
Two years ago we felt excited and nervous. One year ago we felt frustrated.
Right now? Right now I feel a little tender. I feel like I need to re-read the attachment books. I feel like I need to get into this again because after two years of nothing at all, life goes on.
We will eventually complete a home study. Then we will start the waiting process all over again. Life will go on. In two years I will re-read the attachment books.
The thing is, no matter how long we wait, we will never, ever be prepared for what is to come. Some day we will bring new people home and I will feel the greatest joy, deepest sadness and like the most inadequate person in the world. On that day the wait will have been, all at once too long and too short.