The Other Man

Shhh ... don't tell Bob, but I've been seeing someone else.

Let's just call him "B2". I see him everyday. He makes my heart smile - big brown eyes, brown buzz cut. Others describe him as quiet and shy, but sweet. He loves music. He's on the shorter side, and younger than me.

And oh yeah, half a world away. Waiting for a family.

And despite the fact that we never planned to add another, and that we certainly do not have the money to walk that path again and currently have a full house, and that we are getting older, and that its scary even thinking of dealing with another adoption and the issues that can come up, or messing up our current family dynamic, and well, a million or so other reasons for me to just break off this relationship now ... I keep returning to his face.

Look, not for nothing did I get my Masters in Psychology. I realize this is most likely a reaction to Owen going to school full-time, or a way to feel useful again. Maybe I see Owen playing with his friends and wish he had a brother close in age (he tells me he wants a brother, but not a baby because he's "not so into them"). Could be that I am all too aware there are an estimated 40-50 million orphans in the world, and each one of them deserves a mom and dad and a chance. Perhaps I just want to get out of looking for a job (but I doubt that one). Or just maybe it's because my heart expanded 100 times over when we brought Owen home, and I like myself this way; I love being a mom; and I think I'm pretty good at it.

B2 is a waiting child. He has some minor health issues (hey, who doesn't) and he is not an infant, so he's considered special needs. Even if Bob goes for this (and that's a pretty big "if" because we haven't really even spoken of it except for me to ask for our net worth so I could complete a pre-application), even if we figure out a way to come up with the money and even if I could psych myself up to complete the mountains of paperwork again, it's possible B's birth country won't let us adopt him. Might be that they say "no" because of my darn (and in my mind, ancient) cancer history, or that I'm considered too fat (seriously).

Bringing him home is such a long shot on so many levels, and I know that realistically it most likely will not happen.

But oh, that little smiling face ...