Here's a story I didn't think I'd be telling. (PS. Don't get your hopes up too high (slash go on and let out a sigh of relief if you're a fellow infertile always anticipating/dreading a baby announcement...).)
Remember way back in October when I ordered a glider for our impending bundle of joy's nursery? Also, for the record...as I glanced over the list of blog posts from October, looking for the one where I mentioned ordering the glider...I can't help but notice that damn, life was different in October. That was probably the most exciting and giddy and emotional and exhausting month of my life. The one month out of the last five years where we had a legitimate shot at becoming parents. Five years of hopes and dreams lived out in one stupid month of excitement and dreaming. October was something else. But anyway. Back to the real world...
So when we placed the order for the glider (and paid cash in full, up front, like the good Dave Ramsey disciples we are) we knew it wouldn't arrive for 8-10 weeks. Fine, whatever. And then, before the end of our 8-10 week Glider Waiting Period, we lost our baby. And caring about when her chair would come in was really the last thing in the world on my mind. We didn't need it anymore anyway. But the knowledge of its coming stuck in my head...and in an effort to make that day less painful, we even created a spot for the chair in our living room when we did our post-adoption-failure living room redo. We saved a place. I even looked forward to the chair coming because I mean...more seating! Fun furniture! Whatever.
At some point in November (still well within our quoted 8-10 week time frame) we heard rumors that the store we'd ordered it from had closed. What? We investigated ourselves and the rumors appeared to be true-- the storefront was empty and dark, but there was a sign on the door saying that they'd 'temporarily closed' and there was contact information for the owners. I immediately emailed them, and they quickly responded with kind assurance that they would be re-opening the first week of December. Okay...fine.
Suffice it to say, they didn't re-open the first week of December. Or at all in December. Or January or February. They are definitely gone for good, and with them went our cash. The management stopped responding to emails and the phone number was disconnected. In conclusion, we were SOL.
Here's where I should rant on and on about how stupid this whole thing is and how sometimes the commitment to shopping locally and supporting small businesses can REALLY BITE YOU IN THE BUTT. This boutique had been around for probably close to a decade, so it's not like I just went and threw my cash at some fly-by-the-night establishment. It was the baby store in Athens. So I don't know what happened, but I can guarantee you that if I'd ordered the glider at Target or Babies R Us, I wouldn't have shown up one morning to discover they'd packed up shop and disappeared overnight (WITH MY CASH). Gah. Weeping and gnashing of teeth and all that.
But to be honest, I just haven't been able to muster up the emotional energy to care all that much about the whole situation. Sure, I hate that we threw away our money. I think it's crappy. But I just chalk it up with a whole lot of other expenses and purchases that were essentially a huge waste of money with the failed adoption. I mean, we threw away a lot MORE money on lawyer and social worker fees...we have nothing to show for them, either. So what's a couple hundred more bucks? I'd probably be way madder about this situation if the adoption hadn't failed. In that case I would currently have a 3.5-month-old daughter and STILL NO WAY TO ROCK HER...you would definitely have heard about this situation before now. But as it is...not having a chair is the least of my losses.
I bought a new shelf and put it in the glider's reserved spot in the living room. That filled the empty hole in the room. I wish it were so easy to fill the empty hole in my heart.
Last week, though, in a bout of snowstorm-homebound-induced mania, Matt decided to get re-angered about the chair situation. He got his panties all good and twisted and decided to research and see if there were any recourse we could have with the store owner. I believe his ultimate conclusion was that there really wasn't, but that didn't stop him from shooting off an angry email laced with thinly-veiled threats of legal action. The email immediately bounced back-- the account was closed. Figures.
So I was greatly surprised yesterday afternoon to receive a response from the store's owner. A very kind and gracious response, actually. He confirmed that the store was, indeed, closed for good. He would be unable to complete our order. Ya think? BUT he did offer us our choice of the chairs he still had in stock. He went to great lengths to describe each one, attach photos, and explain how each one compared to the chair we'd originally ordered. If we didn't want any of those chairs, he also offered to write us a check for the full amount of the money we paid (and he knew the exact amount, so he's obviously saved his receipts...that's somewhat comforting, I guess) and mail it to us immediately. Since none of the chairs in stock remotely match either our nursery or living room (plus they're the floor models, which means they're relatively used and have had thousands of butts sitting on them already...), we opted to request our money back.
So like...yay?! Now, Matt is of the mindset that this money should be his to spend as he wishes, since it was his email that prompted this turn of events. I'd given up the fight and forfeited the money mentally. So he should get to choose where the money goes...that's his thinking. Hahahaha. Silly Mattie. Good luck with that. Maybe out of the kindness of my heart I'll give him a $50 finder's fee or something before I go blow the rest at Ulta. Let's be honest. Oh, or actually, maybe we'll use the money towards future fertility treatments. Wouldn't that be ironic? Or something.
So anyway. Try to contain your shock that I haven't been whining and complaining about this unjust situation for months. I can hardly believe it myself, but I'm glad that by the time I got around to it, there was a happier ending. I wish more things worked out like that.