I am really not a happy camper right now. It has nothing to do with anything that Gabby's family has done, this time it is my dad and his wife, Val. A couple of times throughout the past few months, I have mentioned some of what was going on with Gabby's family to my dad or Val. I never fully went into the details until last week, because until last week, we were not on the list of people that could possibly take the baby.
I told my dad and Val what was going on and that we were going to communicate our willingness to take the baby, if the need arose. They both were skeptical about us taking the baby, mostly because of the potential special needs that she may have due to F's drug use during her pregnancy. However, I explained that even a healthy child at birth, or two, or five has the potential to become special needs via car wreck, random accident, illness, etc. They were a bit better about it after I put it that way.
I know that Val is difficult in that she is opinionated, religious in the holier than thou sort of way, a bit racist, and still a bit homophobic. I know that my dad has come a long way in the process of breaking out of is homophobia, thanks to me, and his racism, largely thanks to me also. I will say that the standing rule in the house when I was a teenager was that I would be in a world of trouble if I ended up pregnant out of wedlock, and if it was a black boy's baby, that I best not even try to come into the house ever again.
I made a comment last week near the end of the conversation about Baby M to Val that was something to the effect of "Who knows, one day, Gabby and I could be coming to see y'all with a precious little brown baby girl in our arms." That is when the fecal matter hit the fan. Val proceeded to question why the baby was a black baby. I explained that F is mixed and baby daddy is black. She said, "I don't think that your dad is going to like that much," and in shock, I said, "It's not like I gave birth to the child," which I immediately regretted having said because I could care less what color the baby is, it was just more of a programmed response to the crap that I heard all through my childhood and teen years. I just wrapped things up quickly at that point and got off the phone. I tried to keep a positive attitude about my father's potential reaction to this information because my ex-stepmother, June, said "I don't think that your dad is going to like that much," to me when she pushed me about my sexual orientation and I came out to her. He wasn't dancing a jig about the news that I was a lesbian, but he didn't kick me out of his life or anything. I thought that my dad would be able to see beyond the baby's color and see that if we ended up with the precious little peanut that it was because we were doing the right thing. I told Gabby about the conversation and we agreed that Val is a racist pig.
Flash forward to this weekend....
Daddy called me to give me an update on his condition, he had minor surgery on Wednesday, and after giving me a more or less good update on that, he then launched into a discussion to attempt to talk me out of wanting to adopt the baby. I swear, he treated me like I was 14 years old, pregnant, and wanting to keep the out of wedlock baby or something. He tried to explain how this would change my life forever.
DUH! He tried to explain that this was a large responsibility.
DUH! He tried to explain that we would have no pick up and go freedom anymore.
DUH! I told him that I knew all of that and that Gabby and I have spent months off and on talking this to death discussing all of the ways that this would effect our lives and went into the details with him on all of those aspects. He then made a comment that was more or less accusitory towards Gabby, like she was pushing me into this, which if anything, I have pushed her in this, not the other way around. I again told him that Gabby and I have agreed to take this on after months of discussion and careful consideration, if it comes up at all. He then backed off on it and changed the subject.
Gabby overheard the discussion because I was talking to him on my cell, which has a speaker phone feature that I prefer to use rather than holding the phone to my ear. I hung up and was mad, but trying not to let myself believe that my father was so freakin' narrowminded, but after a discussion about the call, we both agree that the tone that he had and the way that things were being said was more or less a discussion based on the fact that they don't want a black grandchild. Well, you know what, I don't go down to see him much as it is because the smoke in the house gives me scary bad asthma attacks, and I would not ever take a child into that house. The place is neat and clean, but is disgustingly smokey icky. If we adopt Baby M, she may never know one of her grandaddy's outside of a voice on the phone and a handful of pictures that are in the house.
I am so freakin' angry and disappointed right now. I really thought my dad was a better man than this.
He visits now with his Da, and really looks forward to having a room all his own. It's set up so others who visit could easily use it (with a few quick things tucked here and there) but we still call it "his" room. 
