Ended

As of yesterday, our latest attempt at adoption is over. The short form of the story (all I can afford to write at the moment) is the birth mother, always erratic (check out some of my previous posts on the subject) read the handwriting on the wall that said we were going to walk away if things didn't improve, and decided to launch a pre-emptive strike against our hearts and dump us first.

Seems her big beef (and I'm not making this up) was that Katrina wanted to spend time with me this past weekend, and not her.

No, really.

She actually said that.

She told Katrina, Thanks for nothing.

Yeah - that several thousand dollars we gave her to help her live from month to month, and the twenty or so times Katrina dropped everything to rush to her side when she was feeling lonely (even when she was sick) don't amount to very much.

I should say also that she (the birth mother) sealed her fate with us when she told the lawyer we pay to represent her that she refused to give us any medical records concerning herself or the baby. All together now: Danger, Will Robinson! DANGER!

See, at the time of the ultrasound, the ultrasound tech told us the baby looked normal, only small. Hmm, what's that mean? We wondered. We still wonder, because, as of over a month later, she still hasn't seen her doctor regarding this. She lied and told the lawyer, Oh, yeah, I went to the doctor on, um, February 10th...yeah...and the doctor said everything was fine. Uh-huh. And I've got a bridge I want to sell you.

So, overall, we feel pretty good, to tell the truth. When things had gotten completely out of control about ten days ago, we prayed that God would clearly show us what we needed to do.

Leaving this situation, or rather, getting left by it, seems like a pretty clear indication of what needed to happen.