What shall I resolve, in the new year? There are so many things I know I ought to do, want to do, need to do. I ought to exercise every day and write letters more often. I want to finish all my craft projects and learn to play the guitar. I need to apply to a PhD program (yikes). But really, the most important thing I have to do this year is… wait.

So I’m trying to build up some emotional stamina. I’m so ready for a child! My life is so full of joy, and so satisfying in so many ways, and I am surrounded by friends and family who keep my heart warm. I’ve been very fortunate all my life, and I know it. It almost seems selfish to still Want Something. Remember when you were a kid and a tooth fell out? The hole that it left? It’s kind of like that feeling – a hole that’s always there, painful and impossible to ignore, but kind of fascinating because you know there will be a new tooth growing there eventually. I know I will meet my child eventually. I just don’t know when. And meanwhile, there’s this secret hole in my life, that no-one else can see, but that I cannot ignore.

I went officially “on the books” at the Independent Adoption Center a little bit before Christmas. At first, I was actually kind of depressed about it. After all the frustration and tears — all the work — of getting through the application process, it seemed a little anticlimactic and I just couldn’t get as happy as I wanted to be. I wanted it to feel like a Moment, like something had finally happened. It wasn’t until a few days later that I got that feeling:

I was at work, checking emails; the office was mostly empty because almost everyone was already gone for the holidays. And I got an Adoption Scam email.

“Waiting” parents hear many warnings about these scams, and it seems to happen to everybody. My loved ones who haven’t been through an adoption process are always surprised by this, but it’s true: scams are part of the journey. To me, the scariest part! I imagine how painful it would be — to begin to hope for real, to imagine an actual specific child as my own, and then to have all that hope turn to ash. Sometimes it’s just a financial scam, and the agency helps us screen for that. But sometimes it’s just some weirdly incomprehensible emotional con game, and I cringe inside just thinking about it.

So I got my first scam email. And you know what was really strange? I was overjoyed. I was so happy and excited I actually ran down the hall to my friend’s office, jumping up and down, laughing and crying at the same time. (Actually, she puts up with this behavior from me fairly often.) I couldn’t explain at first why it made me happy, but I checked things out with my adoption counselor and she hit it right on the nail. “Congratulations,” she said. “You’ve ripped off the scam band-aid.”

She’s right. The Scam has been like some looming, mysterious monster in the shadows. But like pulling off a band-aid, it happened right away and it didn’t actually hurt. Granted (and I know you’ve been wondering, “How did I know it was a scam?”) it was completely obvious. I’m sure a more complex lie would hurt me more. But I feel, finally, like I’ve passed some kind of milestone; some kind of test.

And I’m also happy and excited because it means I’m actually “out there.” I’ve gotten lots of spam offering me great deals on Viagra, Rolex watches, and bank accounts in Nigeria. But I’ve never before had adoption-spam, and if the scammers can find me, that means real, actual people can find me, too. Real women who are actually considering adoption can find me. Real birthmothers who might actually choose me to become part of their family, as the mother of their child. They can find me too.

I know she’s out there somewhere and I know we’ll find each other.

Resolutions? I will keep my heart open. I know this year will be filled with ups and downs. I know I’ll get my hopes up and I know I’ll get hurt. But I will not cringe. Because I know in the end it will be worth it.

Oh, and of course I also resolve to exercise every day, finish all my craft projects, write more letters, learn guitar, and apply to a PhD program. These things will keep me sane while I wait for the email or phone call that will send me running down the hall, jumping up and down, laughing and crying at the same time.