If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you, Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

longroad

 

 

Oh sweet baby. Mothers Day is Sunday, and to say that I’m not taking it well is an understatement.

 

Part of me wants to scream.  I want to scream out to the world to get them to understand that this isn’t right. How they can keep on moving when my world has been shattered so much? I want to scream until there isn’t a single breath left in my lungs, until they sting with the energy I’ve expended and my words hang in the air for all to hear. I should be a Mom by now. It was my turn. It’s been my turn so many times….and yet here I am, at this junction again- a childless Mother on Most Definitely Not a Mothers Day.

The part of me that doesn’t want to scream wants to curl up into a ball and pretend this isn’t happening. I was supposed to have not one, but two bouncing babies on my lap this year. This year was supposed to be different, it was supposed to be my first mothers day.

 

And to be honest, this holiday is not just full of sadness this year- but it’s also full of fear.

The fear that I will never be a mother hangs over my head like a storm cloud following me around. It’s the little voice whispering in my ear when I’m searching the greeting card aisle, taunting me, “will you ever get one of these cards?” It’s the lump in my throat that chokes on the tears whenever I hear another pregnancy announcement or adoption match announcement, not because I’m not happy for them or excited, but because I wonder- again- if I will ever get to be in their shoes. Will I ever get to be a mother? Will I ever find you?

It’s the disdain for every greeting card, every TV commercial, every restaurant promotion, every radio ad, every magazine cover… all of these reminders that I am not, in fact, not a mother. That I failed. That what has come so easy to so many others is still an every day battle for me. That I don’t have my precious baby to spend this holiday with, that I am once again knocked down, because I let my hopes get so incredibly high.

 

It’s the reminder that another year has passed without you here.

That hurts most of all.

 

I know that it will all be worth it. You mean more to me than any holiday, any time table and every heartache we’ve endured. I know that this is just part of the journey to get to that elusive finish line, that even if I cannot see it, I feel that it’s there somewhere in the distance.

 

The other day I reread one of my most favorite poems, If by Rudyard Kipling. A lot of the words spoke to me now more than ever:

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
‘ Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

 

Right now, there is nothing in me but the will to be your Mother. That is my will telling me to hold on, to not get caught up in the loss and get tired of waiting. I refuse to sink, because sinking means not getting to you- not being your mother. I refuse.

So I’ve been thinking of my own If’s for this Mothers Day.

If I can wade through the greeting card aisle, and focus on the positives, like having my own mother and mother in law who support and love us every step of the way.  If I can hold my head up, and count my blessings. If I can believe, really believe that you’ll be here soon. If I can pick myself up ten times after getting knocked down nine. If I can tie a knot and hold on with everything that is in me. If I can keep preparing, keeping moving in the direction of our dreams. If I can let myself feel that deep down, this waiting and heartache will end.  If I can let myself let go of the pain, let go of what was supposed to be and what isn’t and prepare myself body and soul for the goodness that is coming down the road if I just keep on walking.

If I don’t give up.

 

Then mine is the earth and everything that’s in it,

And- which is true – that is you, my daughter or son! 

 

And if you’re not here next year, I will just keep trying. I will never give up on you, on us being a family. I will push through all the hurt and pain and glaring reminders. I will silence that little voice of doubt in the back of my head, and replace the if’s of doubt with the if’s of reassurance.

 

I will be a mother. I will find you, sweet baby.

No if’s, ands or buts.

 

Waiting for the earth and everything that’s in it, 

With love and unwavering hope this Not Yet a Mothers Day,

Love,

Mom

 

 

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You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find- you get what you need.

Image

                                                Reflection is a beautiful thing.

Little one, I’m going to admit something that I’m sure you’ll hold against me in the future. Your Mom is kind of a brat. 

Yep. That’s right. I said it. I am kind of a brat. 

In talking to your Dad tonight, I came to a realization… I like to get what I want- and so far, I’ve been pretty good at it getting what I want. 

When I see a job I’m really interested in, I apply. If I get to the next step, I usually get the job (unless it’s President of the United States..haven’t quite landed that one yet). I study the company, look for things they value in the employees. I research and research until I feel I have it down. I practice my interview skills in front of a mirror, the dogs, Rick- anything and anyone I can. I go shopping for a new suit that screams whatever I need it to scream, “rockstar professional” or “laid back creative type that will still show up on time”. I show up early for the interview, crisp copies of my resume on expensive resume paper in an envelope with the company’s logo sealing the outside. I shake the hand firmly of the person interviewing me, I look them directly in the eye and appear extremely interested in the position even if what is running through my head is actually my grocery list or my ongoing mental checklist of all the movies I’ve ever seen (I do this when I get nervous sometimes…it’s less noticeable than sweaty palms in situations such as these). I smile, I nod. I ask questions when it’s my turn in order to prove I was paying attention and I have ambition. I ask about follow up communication. I leave, and usually within a few days time I get a call with an exciting HR person on the other end offering me the position using pithy HR talk like “bring you onboard” and “can’t wait to have you on the team” like the real position is playing shortstop on a Navy ship. 

But of course, that is not always the drill- there have been foibles (like the time I accidentally sat and waited in the wrong building for over an hour and missed my interview when I was fresh out of college), and sometimes when I really really wanted a job, I missed the opportunity. But it was always for good reason…sometimes, a short time later I would get a better job that suited me more than I could have ever dreamed.

 But generally speaking I try hard, work hard, earn hard.

When I was dating, I would go on one date with a guy and know whether or not I wanted to continue within the first hour. I would put on my best dress and spend hours battling my overly thick frizzy hair against Maryland humidity using a straightener or curling iron as my weapon of choice. I’d make sure I asked questions about them and focus on their wants in a relationship while keeping it light. If I wanted the guy, in most cases it worked out (for a while, at least…until I met your Dad and learned what knee-shaking, soul awakening love is really like). 

But I’m frustrated because I can’t do this to get what I want in this situation- which is you. I am trying my hardest. Every single day, twelve months into this process, I am researching situations, agencies, lawyers, consultants. I am calling them and giving them my best interview voice. I am constantly re doing our profile, thoughts running through my head that  maybe it was too serious, maybe it was too humorous, maybe I focused too much on family, maybe I didn’t focus on family enough. 

I can’t know within an hour if a situation is right. I can’t know if I can just get in for an interview, I’ll land it. It just doesn’t work like that.

There is no control, and for a control freak such as myself, it’s arduous. 

I can look at this two ways: 

1. This sucks. I have no control. I want control. Why can’t I just have control? I’m going to get depressed and drown my feelings of self doubt and lack of control over life in mindless TV and junk food. I’m going to sit back and wait for the right situation to come to me. I hate rejection, and every time we see the numbers creeping slowly up on our profile views and each time we submit for a situation where a family gets chosen or we talk to an expecting Mom who suddenly disappears is another painful experience, a reminder of the rejection that stings so badly. Every day is harder and harder. 

2. This is a new adventure. How beautiful is it to have things in life that can still surprise us? How many of us are lucky enough to have the chance to have something new to look forward to every single day. In a world controlled by planners and iPad calendar apps and dinging phone reminders- we are in a situation right now where all of that doesn’t matter, because life is in fates beautiful hands and all knowing timing. I am going to work hard, never give up, keep on going. I am going to look at this from every angle and figure out a way I can network more, work harder, work smarter. I am going to be a mother, come hell or high water. I am going to make sure the baby or babies that were meant to find us do. Each time we feel rejection will be motivation to keep going. Each time we talk to someone that doesn’t return our communication was for a reason- maybe we helped that woman with her decision in some way shape or form. Time isn’t being wasted because we’re working towards a goal, and that time would have passed regardless of our efforts. We’re planting the seeds that will bring in the flowers down the road. We don’t know the whens wheres and whats, but that is what makes this journey so unique and beautiful and amazing. 

 

 

Guess which way I’m going to look at it? 

 

Answer key: If you guessed 2, you’d be right. 

 

Positive thinking always, Lo. It makes a world of difference. And you can’t always get what you want. I didn’t always get the job or the guy I wanted in the moment… But you know what? If you just keep working, keep trying, keep staying positive- you just might find you get what you need. And maybe what you needed was something you never even saw in that moment… a different job you didn’t know about yet, or the person that you’re meant to be soulmates with and marry. Life can be funny that way. 

 

I know that we need you and you need us. And we’re going to keep on trying until we get what we all need. 

 

And remember: as your Mom- I want you to always choose the second option in life. Positive thinking leads to positive results. Always keep your beautiful head up sweet baby. 

 

With love and determination forever,

Mom 

The real person smiles in trouble, gathers strength from distress, and grows brave by reflection.

Little one, the past few weeks have been a huge mix of emotions. The highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I’m not going to get into it right now, but this journey has been a rollercoaster.

Going through the past week has prompted me to reflect quite a bit. I went back and read some of our old entries, the very first ones in January and February. I have to say, it was a bit painful to read and tears were shed- but it helped.

I realize when reading those words that were written only ten and eleven months ago, it feels like a lifetime has passed. And it has. A lifetime of experience, anyway. Reading back I can see the hope we had in the beginning that everything would work out like clockwork, the images in our head that we’d have a baby born in June and that we’d get the storybook ending. I see the trust I had in this before. I see how crazy naive we were back then.

But that is not an entirely bad thing, Lo. Being naive and not knowing the outcome gave us the strength to even pursue this, and now that we’re in it- we’re in it until you are here. Besides, a storybook ending really is not our style.

And when I look back and read all of that, how we were taking baby steps and thinking it was all going to work out great, it makes me both happy and sad. Happy, because with reflection comes knowledge and perspective. We’ve come so very, very far in this journey. We’ve gone through things we’d never dream we’d have to go through, and we’re still fighting. We thought we’d have a bouncing six month old on our laps for Christmas this year, and that life would just go on like nothing happened. But as you know, that is not how this story panned out. Oddly though, that part doesn’t make me sad.

What makes me sad is the amount of hope and trust we had when this all started. I feel like with the experiences we’ve had as of late with failed matches, with scams, with hurt…it feels like the hope and trust we once had a mountain of in our hands is now slipping through our fingertips like sand. I’m clenching my fingers tight to keep any semblance I have left, but it just keeps pouring out.

That is the saddest part of all.

We’re not losing hope or faith in you, sweet baby. We’re not losing our sense of you being in our family. That we will never lose. We’re losing our trust. Every connection we make, I have to guard my heart. If I let myself feel attached and get invested, I ultimately end up getting hurt as I have every time. So to guard myself, I try to look at it objectively, logically, without emotions.

But I’m not a robot, baby. I cannot help but fall and let myself feel every ounce of hope, trust, faith…and then it all comes crashing down on my head again. It’s like filling a balloon with your entire self: your love, your hope, your faith, and someone just keeps popping it with a pin and letting all the air out. I’ve repaired it so many times, and I promise myself I won’t let it get filled up again, but it does. I can’t help it.

I can’t help it because it’s so personal, so close to my chest. It’s you in that balloon, sweet baby, because it’s you in my heart.

When I think back to the person I was earlier this year, I barely recognize that person. She was excited about this, she was learning new things every day about adoption and taking each day as it comes. When I put that person that I was next to the person I am now, it’s easy to spot the difference. Now I am tired. I am running myself ragged. I am hurt. I am healing. I am trying to take each day as it comes- but it’s harder than it has ever been.

I knew this journey would be hard, but I don’t think my head or my heart were prepared for it being this hard. This doesn’t change anything with us wanting to adopt, with us fighting for you as hard as we possibly can. It just means that your Dad and I are far stronger than we ever knew, far braver than we’d ever realized, and so in love and in this together than anyone could ever imagine.

I love the saying that it is always darkest before the dawn. We didn’t know this journey would get this dark, we didn’t know it would take this much out of us. But we’re strong, and so are you sweet baby. Your soul will find a way to get to us, no matter what. You are meant to be with us.

That is what this is all about, and all it’s ever been about, Lo. It’s about you. It’s not about our desire to be parents, our wants or needs. It’s about you, your life, your future.

I wish I had all the answers. I wish I knew why things happened when they happen. I wish for a lot of unfathomable things, especially lately. I just hope you’re not unfathomable. I hope that someone can open up their trust to us as we will to them. We’re ready. We’ve been ready for months now. Our hearts are still hurting from all the pain we’ve experienced lately, but we’re not broken. We’re ready with our arms wide open, but we need the other side. We need someone who is going to open their arms up and trust us just as we will trust them, and clasp our hands tight to form a circle of love around you.

Because this is all about you, sweet baby.

It’s always darkest before the dawn. I’m hoping to see that sunrise soon, Little Darling.

With love, reflection, and a renewed sense of trust and hope,

Never ever ever ever ever ever giving up.

Love,

Mom

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition.

Little One, the quote above is from the late Steve Jobs, a fellow adoptee who undeniably changed the landscape of technology forever. How did he accomplish so much? He followed his heart with a level head.

If there is one thing I want you to learn in this world, the most important lesson that I am relearning everyday, it would be this: follow your heart, and trust your intuition. 

I’ll say it again.

Let the words sink in.

Follow your heart.

Trust your intuition.

We have been presented with a few situations where it was a tough call so far in this journey. At times, we’ve had to make really, really tough decisions.Hard things to face. We’ve had to say no to some things, some people- and it’s been incredibly difficult to make those decisions. But when something doesn’t feel right – you need to trust your intuition. And when something feels so right that no matter how much thinking you do about it, you can’t get rid of that indescribable, airy feeling of hope- trust your heart.

It’s been a lesson we’ve learned a lot recently, and it can be applied to almost everything in life. It’s tough to balance the logic of your brain and the flood of your emotions. It takes some fine tuning and finesse to be able to detect which one is leading you where at what times. But there will be two very distinct feelings you can never ignore.

The first of which is that feeling in your gut. The one that gnaws and tears at you, no matter how good you may think you feel about something. It’s the voice in the back of the theater screaming fire while you’re blissfully watching the movie play out in your head. It’s the friends advice your ears won’t let you hear. It’s that outside perspective. It’s that fight or flight feeling. It’s your intuition, your sensory point of danger. Trust it. Put your life in it. You won’t want to hear it a lot of the time. You’ll want to drown it out with positives, put a new spin on it, get your emotions involved. It’s incredibly hard to ignore, and at the same time, incredibly hard to listen to. In my life so far, my intuition has been a beacon, a lighthouse that brings me back home in the darkest of storms and roughest of seas. It’s the keeper of the logic, the neutral safe place in your head that gives you another perspective- not for any reason other than to keep you safe. It’s the cold armor of truth round your warm heart.

And then, sweet baby, there is your heart.

Trust in your heart. Follow your heart. When someone says something is impossible, trust in your heart to guide you. Your heart is not the booming voice of intuition, it’s the tiny whisper that you have to slow down to understand. It’s that little voice inside of your head that when you’re so down on life, it softly tells you to try again. It’s your soft side, the ship that will take you to the lighthouse. It’s that gnawing feeling that you need to stop thinking and make the leap in the zero hour. Sometimes it’s the illogical decision that no one understands but you. Sometimes it’s going against the grain.

Don’t follow trends, Lo. Follow your heart instead.

And they need each other, these two. Intuition needs heart, heart needs intuition. There may be times where it hurts so much to take this advice. Where it feels like the world is crashing down because you are following one or both of these feelings. But know that it’s not.

Following your heart is following hope.

We have been burned so far. A lot. But we follow our hearts. Our hearts are telling us to not give up, to keep going, that maybe we’ve already made the contact we need to make. Our hearts are telling us that this is not a matter of if, but when. That when may not be this month, next month or the following month, but when is when it’s meant to be. Our intuition guards our hearts from the people who could potentially hurt us, but lets its guard down when something is safe.

Together, trusting these two feelings will help us find you. And once you learn to trust in them (which is something we’re still learning every single day) they will help you find peace, acceptance and where you’re meant to be.

And you’re meant to be here with us, sweet baby.

With trust, love, and a gut feeling about this going right, 

Love always,

Mom

Though the wait is long, my dream of you does not end.

Little One, this blank page is haunting me. I’ve been trying to write to you for weeks, and the words just aren’t coming. I’m not really sure why, but I think I have an idea.

 

It might sound insane, but a fraction of me feels like with every passing week that goes by that you’re not here, I’m failing you. I’m doing something wrong. I’m not doing enough, I’m doing too much, I’m looking but not finding. Every day that goes without you here, I feel like I’m not living up to my full mother potential.

 

I know that sounds insane. I know, logically, that I cannot control a lot of the aspects of this journey. But for some reason, I can’t help feeling like a failure when people ask if we’ve adopted yet, and I tell them no. Or when I open up the door to your nursery, and I can almost physically feel the emptiness of the room hanging in the air. Or when anniversaries pass– which seem to be happening more and more often. We thought we’d have you in June, but no. Then we thought you’d come into our lives in October, and we would get to buy your first Halloween outfit. But no. Then we thought, okay- by Thanksgiving- this match should come through.

But no.

 

Week after week after week.

Holiday after holiday.

Ridiculous date after ridiculous date.

 

And the craziest part about all of this is that we’re making up these insane deadlines in our head. Yes, we’ve talked to potential matches in every one of those scenarios that haven’t worked out for one reason or another (fall throughs, scams, lost contacts). But it’s not the other person that is putting these ideas of a timeline in our head- it’s us. We’re the ones who are putting this pressure on ourselves.

And it has to stop.

 

You’re going to come into our lives when you do. If a situation doesn’t work out, then it just wasn’t the one that was meant to be. Then it wasn’t you. It’s so hard to remember that, but we have to in order to keep a level head. When I think of these dissapointments, I try to remember the red thread.

I’ve talked about the red thread in here before: but basically it is the idea that an invisible red thread connects us all in the adoption tried- us, you, and your biological family. We’re all connected by this invisible thread, and it will come together when it’s meant to be, because that thread is unbreakable.

And yes, I obviously wish I had a blacklight that would light up this invisible thread and we could follow it to you. But it doesn’t work like that. I am a firm believer in things happening for a reason, and though the wait is hard I’m not giving up that idea. When we have hurt, setbacks, pain and heartache- they are all for a greater good. We might not be able to see that good in the present, but in the future we can look back and realize how much we learned and grew in this time.

 

Just the other day I heard a song on the radio that took me back to my college days. More specifically, this was a song I listened to on repeat after a particularly bad breakup. And it made me think (the way music often does), that if time wasn’t so linear I wish I could jump back to that time, to face that young college kid and explain to her that her tears are for nothing- because in just a few short months, she would meet the man she’s going to marry- her true soulmate. That very quickly in the scheme of things, she’d be married and own a house with this wonderful man. That her life is going to be more amazing than she could ever imagine. That she is crying tears over something she doesn’t even understand yet- because when she meets this man she’ll finally understand what head over heels, earth shattering, life changing love feels like. That she’ll be happy, very soon- for a long time.

And it made me wonder- in years down the road, will I want to travel back to this time to tell the present me that I’m worrying for nothing? To not waste the tears? That this is going to happen, soon, and that this whole waiting process will feel like a blink of an eye?

 

I sure hope so, LO. And that is one reason why I want to push myself to continue writing to you, no matter how hard it might be for me. I want you to be able to read these words and have your history with us, even before it begins.

 

Because though you’re not here yet, you are here in so many ways.

 

And this way, you’ll be able to look back and read and understand just how much we loved you before you ever came to be in our lives.

 

Though the wait is long, my dream of you does not end.

 

And it never will.

 

 

With love and hope,

Love,

Mom

Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow. It’s what sunflowers do.

Sunflower fields forever

Little One, when I was little I had trouble sleeping. I attribute it to having multiple surgeries at a very young age- I would go in to the hospital, and wake up unable to move. I was terrified to go to sleep for fear that I’d wake up in the hospital. So when my Mom worked nights as a nurse, my Dad struggled to get me to drift off to sleep. He’d kneel down next to my bed, stroke my hair and try to get me to relax. One of our nightly rituals was him talking me to sleep, and often times he used (what I didn’t know at the time what it was, but with adult eyes I now know) meditation.

He would push my hair out of my face, and whisper to me, “Imagine you’re in a sunflower field. All the bright sunny flowers are everywhere – as far as the eye can see. The breeze gently sweeps through the field and the sunflowers wiggle, and the wind blows your hair. The sky is big and blue, the clouds are fluffy enough to sleep on.”  It would go on for hours and hours. Eventually, my mind would be fully immersed in that sunflower field, and I would feel relaxed enough to give in to sleep.

I cherish that memory, Lo.

This week was a rough one, sweet baby.

 

We thought we were so much closer. We had a lead. We met her in person. It all seemed so perfect..until her name glared on one of the scam boards.

An emotional scammer- not looking for money, just craving attention- had us sucked in and made us more hopeful than we’d been in a long time. We were all excited at the possibility of having you here by October, the due date she gave us. She sent us sonogram pictures. She told us we were chosen. And then it all came crashing down.

And I feel like ever since that fateful email that it was all a sham- that all our dreams were false- I feel a bit numb. I feel like I can’t even cry. I feel like it’s going to take a lot for me to trust that this will work, to trust another contact or lead. We’ve had our hearts broken twice now, once with a fall through and once with a scam. The scam hurt far, far worse. The fall through was meant to be, it was fate. The scam was all smoke and mirrors (we don’t even believe she was actually pregnant) and for no purpose other than someone elses selfishness. How could anyone do that? How could someone be so mean and hurtful? And she was not only scamming us, but at least six other hopefuly adoptive couples. Why would someone do that?

Because they are hurting, too. Badly.

It’s sad, and I feel terribly bad for this person. She needs help that we cannot provide for her. She needs to find peace.

And it hurt. A lot. Depths of your soul, how am I going to make it through this alive kind of pain. But for you sweet baby, for you I refuse to let it overcome us. I’m a fighter when it comes to you. I won’t give up. Not now, not ever.

Your Dad and I went to a local sunflower field on Saturday. After this week of the highest of ups and the lowest of downs, we needed to step off the rollercoaster and plant our feet somewhere familiar. To us, the most familiar place is nature. 

Driving up the road, out of nowhere we saw it, a gold mine- a sea of yellow beauty. The kind of beauty that only comes from nature, or God, or whatever diety you believe in. It’s not beauty from a photoshopped magazine. It’s beauty one rarely sees with their naked eye.

It gave me hope, that beauty still exists in this world. That faith, hope, and love are alive and well and on their way back into our lives.

And as I trunched through the waist high field of sunflowers, nothing but yellow petals for what felt like miles, I finally felt free.

 

We’re going to focus on the positive. It would be easy to throw our hands up and say, “Well, this is too hard. We’re not good enough for this. It’s just not meant to be. We’ve just been hurt too much already.” But kid, I’m not, nor have I ever been, a fan of easy. Life is hard. Adoption is hard. But the outcome…my God, baby, the outcome is going to be worth every single heartache we’ve ever had. I will not give up on you. Not now, not ever.

I will not give up on everyone else either. Your first Mom is out there. I cannot be doubtful when she comes into our lives. I cannot second guess giving her my love, just because one other sick person misused it. I refuse to let that person win. I will let your first Mom win though. I will love her with everything I am,  for your benefit and your sake. And I will not lose my faith in humanity or the good in people.

Sometimes, sweet baby, people hurt. They don’t know why all the time, but they will try to take it out on you. First of all, you’re better than that. Don’t let it get to you. Secondly, know that it’s not personal. It’s not about you or what you stand for- it’s about their pain and suffering. People that hurt other people are in a bad place, and they need understanding and love more than anyone else in this world. That doesn’t mean that responsibility rests on your shoulders- a lot of times it is outside the realm of what you can give. So my only advice when encountering someone that is in so much pain that they use it against you for no reason is this: respect yourself enough to give them space, and respect them enough to know it’s not about you.

So that is what we’re doing, Lo. We’re letting go of the hard feelings, and looking to the sunshine, just like the sunflowers taught us to.

 

I’m no longer afraid of sleep. My parents helped me get over the fear. And though this experience has been a life lesson, we won’t let it get us down. We won’t be afraid of this proccess- because in the end it means having you here in our lives forever. And that is all that matters.

 

The good thing about faith, Little One, is that the sun always rises tomorrow. It hasn’t let us down yet.

 

With my petals outstretched to the sun, ignoring the shadows but looking for you,

 

Love always,

Mom

 

Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans…

Every day, in every way it’s getting better and better, Lo! I love the song Beautiful Boy by John Lennon, and I’ve been listening to it on repeat lately. Whether you’re a boy or a girl, it doesn’t matter- you are already beautiful in our eyes.

Music helps your Dad and I a lot through this journey. We’ve been listening to a lot of the Beatles (In My Life has been another favorite) and I’ve also been obsessed with  the Michael Buble song Just Haven’t Met You Yet. I know it’s a song about romantic love, but the lyrics are so perfect right now. It’s full of hope and faith: the love is there, we’re just waiting for the right moment.

And when it happens, it’s going to be amazing and life changing in a way I don’t think we can even understand until it happens.

Do you know that moment, Little One? That moment where you can feel something big coming on and your heart beats heavy and leaps into your throat? That moment when you know you’re standing on the edge of greatness? I’ve had this moment only a few times in my life, but lately I have this overwhelming feeling that something big is about to happen. I had this moment when I graduated from high school, and again from college. I’ve gotten this feeling after a great interview when I’ve gotten a really good job. I got this feeling when we bought our first home. I had this feeling when I married your Dad.

It’s this indescribable feeling, and I’m not doing it justice with words.

But this time the feeling is different. All of those other life events were things I controlled, completely. This is one situation where I cannot control every aspect, and I can’t see the future. But I still have this feeling, and it catches me off guard some days. It’s like a good surprise you didn’t see coming at all.

We’re almost done the homestudy. Just one more visit, and we’ll be finished. Maybe that is sparking this feeling of a hopeful completion, but something in my heart tells me it’s more than that. We don’t have any solid leads or prospects right now, but something tells me it’s going to happen. I wish I could put it into words, Lo. I wish I could articulate it to you. But it’s this weird faith that I have and can physically feel in my chest and in my bones.

It feels like we’re in the build up part of a story. Like when you’re watching a romantic movie, and the music swells as the two protagonists kiss for the first time and it’s magical. It’s that moment you’ve waited for, and before it happens your entire body floats with anxiety and hope, and you feel weightless. It’s that moment on the rollercoaster when you’re at the top of the hill looking all around, and you get the feeling in your stomach that it’s about to drop, even though it hasn’t yet. It’s standing backstage before a big show, looking at the lights and the crowd before you take a deep breath and jump out (unless you have terrible stage fright like your Dad, because while standing in the wings is exciting for me, it’s dreadful for him.)

It’s that moment right before the greatness.

Look, Little One- when you come onto the scene, life for us is going to change immeasurably in a great and powerful way. Life is never going to be the same. We’re going to fall in love with you in a way neither of us has ever loved before, and we cannot wait. You are the greatness, and we’re stuck in that moment right before the big kiss, the opening night, the adoption day.

But we know it’s coming because we’ve got that whole faith thing down. And for now, before we get to the greatness we’re enjoying the anticipation. It’s going to be so life changing, so beautiful and amazing when it happens. It’s going to be surreal and other wordly.

It’s going to be us, as parents, and you, as our child.

Really, Lo, you’re going to blow us away, just like all the dandelions we’ve been wishing on lately. Until then, we’re holding on to the edge of greatness, and loving every moment of this feeling.

With a floating heart full of anticipation,

Love,

Mom

Hope says, “I wish my future will be bright,” where faith says, “I know my future, and it is bright.”

We had an inspiring weekend Little One. Your Dad and I took a trip to Virginia to attend the Families for Private Adoption Seminar. Words cannot describe how amazing it was.

We arrived Friday afternoon and stayed at a nearby hotel, so we were able to relax. We went to a movie, walked around the Tysons Corner mall and had a nice dinner out. It was wonderful to feel like we were getting away for a little while.

The next morning, we were on our way to the seminar. It was a gorgeous spring day, the sun was shining and the sky was blue as ever. We walked into the church conference room where the seminar was held, and immediately it felt like a big hug. It was such a friendly, warm environment that felt so supportive. We heard stories from all walks of adoption life- successful adoptive parents, adoption lawyers, social workers and even a birth mother. It was wonderful to get perspectives from every angle.

Looking around the room, I couldn’t help but think I was surrounded by the best parents in the world. Not to pat our own back, but adoptive parents are a certain kind of special, Lo. They are the parents that fight for their children from the very start. They are the parents that want more than anything to be parents. They were just like us. We’re not alone in this.

It was amazing to hear from adoptive parents who had sat where we were sitting not long before, and knew what it was like to be in the trenches. It was amazing to hear their stories of how they did it, and see their beautiful babies. It was amazing to hear from a birth mother who was still okay and proud of her decision, even though it was 28 years ago. It was amazing to hear how she was a part of her daughters life, walked her down the aisle on her wedding day with her adoptive parents. It proved that our idea of family does work, that we’re not crazy and that thousands of families get there this way.

 

The last speaker of the day was a psychologist who is an adoptive father himself who gave a spirited talk about the difference between hope and faith, and it really resonated with us. Faith is knowing something is going to happen, whereas hope is, well, just hope. It’s easily lost, a short fall from despair. But we have faith, now more than ever. We know this is going to happen, because we’re going to make it happen.

One thing almost all of the speakers at the seminar said repeatedly was, “You only fail if you give up. If you don’t give up, don’t quit, you’ll get your baby.”

 

Well, Little One- if there is one thing your Dad and I aren’t it’s quitters. We’re never giving up. We won’t quit until we get you in our arms.

 

Tonight is session 2 out of 3 with our social worker for the homestudy. The last one is on Thursday. We’re nervous, but it’s a completely different feeling from the first visit. She knows us now, she’s seen our home and now she’s just trying to get to know us as people. It’s hard to believe that soon the homestudy will be over and our focus will be solely on finding you. Hopefully the search won’t last long, but we’re willing to wait.

 

We’re never giving up, Lo.

 

With faith,

Love,

Mom

When the world says, “Give up,” Hope whispers, “Try it one more time.”

Little One, let me tell you about the day I knew there was still hope to find you out there. It’s going to sound a little weird, but it’s also the day we found out the expectant mom due in June has decided to parent.

That day is today.

I know it sounds odd, Lo, that we have found hope today. But we did. It is such a weird feeling that few would understand. We’re happy for that Mom. She gets the greatest joy in the world, the chance to parent. We actually feel blessed that we could be a part of that decision- that we could be a blip in her journey to decide how to make her family, because whether she knows it or not, she’s given the same gift to us.

That baby that we’ll likely never meet was a catalyst, a link, a tiny butterfly. They helped us learn that we wanted to, and could adopt right now. They are an important key in the journey to getting to you. And we’ve known all along it was a long shot (with adoption, it always is) but we protected ourselves and prepared for today. I’m not going to say my heart didn’t sink, because it did. I think that is a natural reaction. But after a deep breath, it rose back up and hope filled my heart once again.

I went outside to call your Dad and let him know we got word, and that it was a no. He was quite the same as I, sad, but happy at the same time. This is what was supposed to happen. This is how the pieces were meant to fall, and even though it may be hard to realize that now- it will all make sense one day. I’m a firm believer, in case you haven’t been able to tell, that everything happens for a reason. Nothing in this life is random. There was a reason we knew about that baby, and it was to get to you. Now we’re ready. Our website is up and running, our facebook page is active, our homestudy almost complete.

After hanging up the phone from RB, I stood alone in the courtyard at work. The gravel covering the ground is made of thousands of rocks, big, small, all different colors. My eyes glanced over the entire courtyard, and to my surprise there was one tiny shining penny, all alone. I picked it up and put it in my pocket.

You’re out there, Lo. Somewhere.

When I lifted my head and looked up at the sky, the gray skies parted and the sun shined right through them.

Our time is coming.

 

 

With unwavering hope,

Love,

Mom