Firefly's first dad has been doing a little dance since he and Ms B bumped into each other on the bus that day. He wants to know about Firefly, then he doesn't; he pursues contact, then disappears.
At first he was doing the dance with Ms B, until she (rightly) said, "This isn't my problem," and sent him to her social worker. Then he danced with the social worker awhile until finally they sat down and talked. In less than three weeks time, T and I will finally--hopefully--sit down with him ourselves. And he will meet his daughter for the first time.
I'm nervous. But positive. Cautiously optimistic. This is uncharted territory for us, a first parent who wasn't part of the adoption from the beginning and doesn't necessarily buy into child-centered open adoption (yet). Will this be our one shot with him? I worry that he feels like we've made him jump through hoops to meet us and to see Firefly. But my gut tells me that going slowly now will pay off later. It's harder to go backwards and try to fix things once after the fact.
I'm trying hard not to overthink this. Almost everything we know about him at this point comes second- or third-hand. Finally we'll be able to form some opinions for ourselves. I can guess at the reasons for his choices so far--and often do--but it's just conjecture. We don't know enough to do more than accept how things are at the moment and act with an eye toward the future. Really that's all we can ever do.
Everyone who has seen him tells us that Firefly looks just like him, save for Ms B's lips. I stare at her sometimes trying to morph her face in to an adult man's. If nothing else I will be able to tell her I saw the resemblance with my own eyes. And show her a picture of him, saying this is the first time he held you, and let her see it for herself. I don't know how much that would be worth, but it's more than we can offer now.