New beginnings

I haven't written in quite some time, so I figured it was time to stop by and give a little update.

Honestly, it's been so long, I don't even know where to start.  I feel as though this blog should be devoted to adoption-related news, and what we consider news these days...well, it's not the same as it used to be.  Now, when we get a potential matching situation, we keep it much more under wraps, because we don't want to get our hopes up, much less get our familys' hopes up. 

So in the spirit of keeping this blog current, I'm just going to talk about what IS new with us.

I started a new job a couple weeks ago, and it's been a Godsend.  My old company wasn't particularly supportive of women in general, and new mothers even less so.  They told me they'd let me work part-time after we were placed, but I had a strong feeling it was just lip service.  Not to mention that the hour long commute was really stressful. 

My new employer is a very small family-owned business, and when I told my boss about the adoption, she was excited for us.  She said that if we matched tomorrow, it wouldn't put my job in any danger, and they'll be happy to work with me to create a schedule that fits our new needs.  The work suits me, and I love the environment.  Add in that it's only 3 miles from our house, and it's a perfect fit.  I feel like a weight has been lifted!

Doug's continuing to work with a personal trainer, and I've started training for a half-marathon in the spring.  That's a big change for both of us.  We're making a concerted effort to be healthy, and now that my health and unhappy work situation aren't stressing us out, we have no excuse not to take care of ourselves.

We're excited for Christmas, and for a great start to a new year. 

fly, fly my pretty!

Thanksgiving is fast approaching, and as you can probably tell, we have no news.  In 2 weeks, we're coming up on a full year. 

Physically, I'm feeling amazing.  The time off work did wonders for our marriage, and gave me a little time to reflect on what my life would be like with less career-related stress.  Doug got a chance to take care of me, and I couldn't be so annoyingly independent as usual. 

Doug's excited to be back in the military.  It meant so much to him, and seeing him with that drive again is great.  He's got drill once a month, so they finally put him on a daylight schedule at work, and life's been a lot more normal than when he was on night shift.  I'm just grateful that I can get things done around the house on a weekend without fear of waking the bear.

I can't complain.  We're happy and (finally) healthy, and even though it's hard to face another set of holidays just the two of us, life's treating us pretty well.  I wish I had more to report, because I feel as though this blog has become very boring when I do actually write. 

So on some random notes...
I carved an R2D2 pumpkin to surprise Doug
Doug started training with a personal trainer and has now lost a grand total of 31 pounds since Spring
I'm excited to be seeing not one, but two Cirque shows while I'm in Vegas with my girlfriends,
and...
We dressed Rigby as a Flying Monkey from The Wizard of Oz for Halloween:

He was not pleased.

cabin fever

Well, it's been a little while since I last posted.  Time's been kind of fluid lately.  I had my surgery last Tuesday, and the days have been slipping by ever since.  Doug also enlisted in the Army Reserves the same day (it's been in the works for about a month), so we've had a lot of big changes in a very short period.  I'm off work for the next three weeks, and there are a lot of books and little craft projects in my imediate future, since I'm not allowed to drive and am feeling cabin feverish. 

Speaking of craft projects, I finally finished the baby blanket.  It looks amazing.  For anyone keeping track, I only worked on it when we were actively waiting to hear if a birthmom had chosen us.  Two days after I made the appointment with the surgeon, and only four days before the surgery, we got a call for a faily immediate placement.  We're still waiting to hear what the mother decided, but since she was due yesterday, I'm fairly certain she's changed her mind and decided to parent.  Either way, I rushed to get the blanket done while I could still work on it, just in case, and I love it so much!

While this might not have been "our call," it was a mighty fine distraction from the anxiety about undergoing major surgery.  And it was a really nice reminder that while my trip to the OR was eliminating even the remotest chance of a biological child, there is still a baby in our future. 

We've got our homestudy renewed and are in the process of rewriting our dear birthmom letter.  Things feel very stagnant and status quo otherwise.  Even the stress of waiting for a birthparent decision has become less intense.  The wait has become our "normal."

Doug's been taking care of me, and he's been a gem.  So supportive and loving, even though I know he's as sick of me being at home taking up real estate on the couch as I am of being there.  I was thinking today (blame it on the percocet) about what the 20-year-old version of me would think of the me I am today.  And I think she'd be pretty surprised at how content I am, all things considered.  Life's dealt us some hard knocks, and it definitely hasn't turned out how I'd planned, but...in so many ways, it's even better than I could have imagined. 

Nine Months Later

Well, if you've checked out our adoption timeline page or my Facebook lately, you know we got the news that this most recent couple decided to parent.  We really weren't surprised, because the agency had prepared us for that possibility from the beginning.  We're obviously disappointed, but hope everyone's happy and healthy, and they're at peace with their decision.

Not getting this baby does clear the way for something unpleasant I've been putting off for a few months now.  This week, I called the doctor to schedule a hysterectomy.  I'm really scared, but I know my pain isn't going to get any better, and in a way, it feels like closure on the possibility of a miracle surprise pregnancy.  I'm afraid of being in menopause at such a young age, and I'm scared of having hot flashes for the next twenty years, but at least I'll already be awake in the middle of the night for feedings.

The wait's really been wearing on us lately.  I'm sure a big part of it is feeling like so much is out of control right now, with my health and whatnot.  But there have definitely been times lately when I've felt as though I wish this wasn't so vitally important to us.  I wish we could just be ok with having a dog and each other, and feel complete.  But we don't.  I wish that our dream didn't require someone else's sacrifice and pain.  I wish this were a world where people who weren't ready for children couldn't get pregnant with them, and have to face the difficult decision of how to best handle something for which they aren't prepared, and where people who desperately wanted a baby didn't get a hysterectomy instead.

all quiet on the western front

Well, as we enter week 3 of the wait within the wait, there's nothing new to report.  So I'm going to blog about a fun side-effect of having years, instead of just nine months, to prepare for a child: thinking about what kind of parent you're going to be.

My dad came from very humble beginnings, and my mom dropped out of college to marry my dad.  So they struggled financially when I was a kid.  We never had trips to Disney World, and I never had a Cabbage Patch Doll.  I learned that when my parents said "no," they meant it, and even though I was an only child, I wasn't spoiled, at least not with material possessions.  I also learned to appreciate what I got, because I didn't get everything I wanted.  Instead of buying "stuff," my parents invested in making me a well-rounded person.  They paid for the gymnastics lessons that proved that my clumsiness was not just a passing phase.  They paid for cheerleading camp, and violin lessons, and dance class.  They paid for piles of craft supplies, and books by the thousands.  But brand name clothes and fad toys were luxuries they didn't feel I needed.  When I got new toys or games, I had to decide which of the old to sacrifice.  Instead of elaborate and expensive vacations, most Friday evenings in the summer, they'd throw some sleeping bags and a tent in the back of the truck, grab a map, and pick a place for us to camp for the weekend. 

That's the part of my childhood I want to recreate for my child.  I don't want to have an ADD kid who is surrounded with so much crap that she doesn't know how to amuse herself, or live without constant stimulation.  I don't want my son to rip through Christmas presents, tossing each one over his shoulder as soon as it's opened, anxious to see what's in the next box.  I want my child to feel free to find his or her own personal style, not be chained to wearing the "right" clothes and shoes that are acceptable because all the other kids have them.  I want her to learn a sense of appreciation, instead of entitlement.  I want my child to have fun chasing minnows in a stream in the woods, not standing in line for hours with 3,000 other sceaming, sweating children and their irritable parents, waiting for a 2 minute ride at Disney, or chained to a television playing video games, because that's the only version of fun he's been exposed to.   

I don't want to give my child everything she wants.  Cause a lot of what a kid wants, isn't good for her.  I want my child to be imaginitive, and play independently, and be totally ok with not being the center of attention all the time. 

I want to let my kid try, and fail.  Because that's how you figure out what's important to you.  You want to keep trying, even after you fail.  You want to try even harder.  That's the part about my childhood that I want to do differently with my own child.  My mom especially had a hard time watching me fail, and so she tried to minimize my failures by doing things for me, or pushing me to keep trying after I failed repeatedly, and wanted to quit, not just in school, but in extracurricular activites, too.  So it was sometimes difficult to tell what was important to me, and what was important to my parents.  If my parents hadn't pushed me to go to college, I'd probably be a carpenter now, because I love working with my hands.  Instead, I have a boring desk job.  Being good at something and really enjoying it are two different things.  I want my child to find what she enjoys, not just enjoy doing what makes me proud.

I want to instill a strong work ethic and sense of personal responsibilty within my child, though.  You have to live with the consequences of the decisions you make, so it's important to make good ones.  Being reliable and following through with commitments is important, but saying no to making commitments is ok somtimes, too.  Not everyone is going to be nice to you, and not everyone is going to like you, but as long as you like yourself, and try to be nice to others, you're not the one who needs to change.  I want my child to know that sometimes you have to stick up for yourself, because if something is worth doing or being, it's worth the flack you'll take from your peers to do or be it. 

Of course, it's easy to say what kind of parent you'll be before you become one.  But you've got to strive for something, and this is the type of parent I'm committed to try to be.

call me, maybe...

We got a potential matching call on Monday.  We submit profiles today.  As always, we're cautiously hopeful.  I feel as though not allowing myself to get excited somehow cheats my future baby, since every time could be the time, so I've got a couple butterflies flitting around.  Funnily enough, mom's due date is 9 months, to the day, from when we began waiting.  Most probably a coincidence, but pretty cool if this does turn out to be our match.  Because she's still pregnant, they have plenty of time to decide, so there's no hint as to when we'll get the call about their decision.  Prayers and patience, and trusting in God's will, is the name of the game.

Everything else is all quiet on the western front.  I'm almost done with my quilt.  Assembly is set to begin this weekend, so I'll take plenty of progress photos.  Otherwise, nothing is new.  We have a quiet, drama-free life, and I'm pretty ok with that. 

foreshadowing

I wrote the following journal this morning:

There are times I wonder: if I didn't want to be a mother so badly, would it have happened easily?  I know this is a test from God, in learning patience, in learning to truly commit to something and push hard, hang in there until my dream comes true.  I've always been the type of person to give up when things didn't happen right away.  I never wanted anything badly enough to overcome obstacles.  Except this.  

It makes me sad to read about people who've given up believing in God because of infertility.  This journey has made my faith stronger than ever.  Sometimes I still get upset and think that it's unfair how easily others can start their families.  But life isn't fair.  I don't expect it to be.  People are murdered for their faith all over the world.  People suffer and starve and watch their babies suffer and starve.  What have I done to deserve an easy, pampered life?  

This is the path we have to take to get to our dream.  I've never been prouder of my husband than when he said of another couple at the agency "I wouldn't be too upset if they were chosen for this baby, because they're doctors."  He's thinking of the welfare of a child he's never met, above his own wants.  That's huge.  If we'd gotten pregnant easily, I would never have the memory of my husband agreeing to adopt without a moment's hesitation.  I'd never know that was in him.  I'd never know how badly he wants to be a father, if we'd never had to fight for it together.

So we might be facing another rejection.  It sucks, but we can take it.  We'll take it as many times as we have to.  

We got the call early this afternoon that we weren't selected. 

I'm not devastated.  Neither is he.  We're learning that sometimes the thing you want most, you can work as hard as you can to achieve, and from that point forward, it's in the hands of something bigger than yourself.  I'm excited to see who disappears from the agency's waiting families list.  Our time will come.

patience

We received a matching call on Monday.  We're trying not to stress, or obsess about it, but our profile is being submitted to the parents tomorrow.  This time feels kind of different than the last two calls.  We've had some disappointment in not being chosen in the past, and this time, we know it could take weeks to hear anything, and it might not be good news when we do hear, so we're not going to be biting our nails and jumping every time the phone rings.  We've actually gotten somewhat accustomed to waiting.  I do believe we've learned a bit about the art of patience (though by no means mastered it).

Could we be parents soon?  It's all in the Lord's hands.

give us this day

To say things have been quiet is an understatement.  The only news we've had from the agency is that our social worker has gone on maternity leave until September (irony in action, huh?)...and we received our clearance renewal paperwork in the mail on Saturday.  Every year, in order to keep your home study active, you have to undergo a battery of background checks, medical exams, and questions about your household status, and what changes have taken place since the previous year.  They want to make sure you haven't been arrested, or had a heart attack, or gotten a divorce. 

The agency sends the packet plenty early to make sure you have time to get your fingerprints and child abuse clearances, which can take up to two months to receive, so there's no gap during which your homestudy goes inactive.  We've only been waiting a little under 7 months, but that packet feels like both an insult and a badge of honor.  It says our next 5 months may well be as disappointing as the last 7, but we've made it this far, and we'll make it however long it takes.

My giraffe cross stitch is almost done.  I should finish it in the next week or so, and then I can start patchworking all the blocks together.  It's taken me a solid 10 months to get this far, probably more like 11 by the time it's completed, right around the year mark from when we first started the adoption process.  I'm not sure what my next project is going to be.  Everything feels done.  The nest is...nested.

I've been communicating back and forth with Big Brothers, Big Sisters.  They expressed some concern about me taking on the responsibility, when a possible serious life change could be on the horizon.  But here's the thing I've begun to learn from the wait: if you live each day like the call could come today, you go to bed each night disappointed.  I had thought about becoming a Big Sister for years, but it never seemed like the right time.  Then, I actively avoided children through most of our infertility struggle because being around them was too hard.  Now I have the chance to enjoy the experience of having a child in my life, and I'm going to take it.

God's been moving me to search for more fulfillment in my life.  Enjoy each day more.  All you can do in life is try.

today

Today, I realized that I need a child in my life.  Right now.  I know six and a half months isn't long to be waiting for a match, and two and a half years isn't long in terms of trying to become parents, but it certainly feels like a long time.  I volunteer in the church nursery, and I enjoy it a lot.  I want more of that. 

Today, I signed up to be a Big Sister.  I recently wrote in a post that you don't sign on to long-term commitments when you're waiting, but I'm making this one.  It's for a year minimum, two days a month.  We could still be waiting years for us to be matched, to become a mom and dad, but I can mentor a kid who needs a little extra positive adult influence right now.  I want to take a little girl to the zoo, and make craft projects, and go mini golfing and to the park. 

Why wait for that, too?

unsolicited advice

I'm not going to pretend I know what it's like to be a pregnant woman considering making an adoption plan for my unborn child.  But I do know this: every stranger you meet thinks they're an expert on what's the best decision for you, and your life, whenever fertility or family planning is involved.

When we first starting trying to conceive, we got all the advice in the world.  "It'll happen as soon as you stop trying," or "Just take a vacation and relax;"  You name it, we heard it.  When we announced that we were going to adopt, we heard a lot of "Are you sure you don't want to try IVF?  Why not?" and then, "As soon as you adopt, you'll get pregnant." 

I don't know why, as humans, we feel the need to give tidy little meaningless advice and solutions to the really difficult life issues other people, and usually strangers, are going through.  How do you politely tell someone that you don't want to pursue IVF because it's very expensive, and it probably won't work, and you're excited about adoption, and it's a relief to put trying to conceive behind you and focus on something positive that gives you hope?  And we certainly aren't adopting on the off chance that somehow, it'll spur the miracle that will give us our "own baby."  Just hearing people say that, as though our adopted child won't be loved like a biological baby, makes me cringe.  But I've actually found myself trying to justify and feeling judged about our decision not to work towards a pregnancy that has, medically, a .5% chance of happening. 

I think I'm not so different in that regard from the pregnant woman considering an adoption plan.  She's probably feeling judged, not sure what's the right path for her, getting a ton of unsolicited advice from people who never had to go through what she's going through.  We've both struggled with questioning whether or not we can be someody's mom. 

If anyone ever reads this blog, and she's considering us as adoptive parents, I want you to know there was only one thing anyone ever said that made me feel any better, and it wasn't advice.  So I'm saying it to you: "I'm so sorry you're going through this.  It really sucks."

going, going, gone.

Last week was rough.  I've been under a fair amount of stress with big deadlines at work, combined with my fundraising efforts and just the regular old upkeep and maintenance of a house and gardens.  Then add a series of really discouraging and unfortunate events, and I'm feeling as though God has a message in there somewhere.  I'm usually a very organized, responsible person.  It's one of the things Doug teases me about most.  But last Friday, I lost my wallet.  I went to a bonfire and stashed my purse under a table, and evidently, when I pulled it back out, my wallet stayed behind.  So I went all week with no debit card, no license, nothing. 

Then Monday, my iPhone fell off the back of the living room chair and the screen shattered to bits.

Friday, I put the dog on his leash, and the D-ring on his collar broke, scattering his ID tags to the wind.  (So we were both without ID.  I know my address and he has a chip, so we were probably on equal ground, identity-wise).

Then, I spent Saturday morning putting flags on veterans' graves.  It's been dry, so it took a lot of effort to push the flags down into the hard ground, and my wedding ring was cutting into my finger.  I took it off, and put it in my pocket.  And when I emptied my pocket to put it back on, I had 3 quarters, and lint.  My wedding ring is lost, probably for good, and our personal property deductible is too high to replace it. 

And that was my breaking point.  I went home sobbing.  Doug's a good man.  In a little more than one week, I opened us up to potential identity theft, broke an expensive phone, even lost the symbol of our love and commitment, and he just said "That's why we have Lifelock," "Let's see what kinds of deals we can get on a re-furb," and "It's only a ring, not our marriage," respectively.  And he hugged me.  No yelling.  No berating me for being irresponsible.  If our roles had been reversed, I know I wouldn't have been so understanding, and that's a slice of humble pie.

Since then, my wallet's been returned.  I found a simple, inexpensive wedding band that I like a lot.  Doug found me a cheap Droid, and I don't love it, but it gets the job done.  I've never needed expensive, fancy things, but this past week was an exercise in perspective.  There are more important things to lose than a scrap of leather with some plastic in it.

And also?  Broken iPhone screens are very stabby.

what else you got?

There seem to be two common recommendations while waiting out the wait.  One is to pretend it's not happening, just live your life, enjoy your marriage, think of other things.  This runs directly against the other piece of advice, which is to network, reach out, make it known that you're seeking to adopt, increasing your odds of being matched through word of mouth, prepare your home and yourself for the match that's coming. 

I can tell you that it's very difficult to pretend you aren't waiting when you're saving...saving money, saving vacation and sick days, saving a room full of baby supplies.  On one hand, you want to take that last single-without-kids vacation, but on the other, you know you might be sacrificing a week or more with your new baby by using up your paid time off.  There's no maternity leave for new adoptive moms in a lot of states, and ours is one of them.   Long-term commitments can't happen.  So you set lots of little shorter-term goals.  Run in a 5K, help out with the high school musical alumni production, maybe an overnight camping trip here and there.  You only make commitments it wouldn't be a big deal to break.

The funny thing about this stage is that you feel like nothing's happening.  You know you're getting closer, but you can't tell how far or how fast.  So you talk about it, because it makes it more tangible, less surreal.  And it starts becoming the thing that defines you to other people. 

There's a lot more to us, though.  I love working with my hands.  I prefer sky-high heels and wear makeup every day, but no one could ever call me a girly-girl.  I'm more comfortable shopping at Home Depot than the mall.  If I see something I like, I rarely buy it.  Instead, I try to design it, make it, or build it better than the original.  I just started running, and did my first 5K, and I totally understand why lemmings do their thing.  I'm a wealth of stupid trivia knowledge.  I'd love to live in the country, and need open space to explore, because I'm claustrophobic.  I love rollercoasters.  My parents used to call me Snow White because I'm really good with animals.  Just the other day, I got within six inches of a baby woodpecker, and fed him some peanut butter.  I love comedies, and absolutely refuse to watch horror movies.  I'm addicted to Pinterest, and would post my own projects, but I'm too impulsive to slow down and take before and after photos. 

Doug loves fishing and would spend all day on the water, if we only had a boat.  He goes hunting each year but loves animals more than anyone I know.  He recently started learning to cook, and ten times out of ten, on his night to make dinner, he'll google the recipe for a gourmet meal rather than serve something easy like ham barbecue.  He reads graphic novels (and gets annoyed when I call them comic books).  He loves to tell a good story, and recognizes every pop culture reference he hears or sees.  He's generous to a fault and loves giving gifts, so much so that he seems incapable of holding out for a surprise.  He's competitive at games and most enjoys beating me.  He's quick to apologize and to forgive. 

We don't have a lot of common interests, but we can finish each other's sentences and we joke that we share a brain.  I'm a little bit of a neat freak and he's a little bit of a slob, and we drive each other crazy, but we're happy.

One of my favorite memories of us, and the one I think sums us up in a nutshell involved an egg.  Our first anniversary fell on Easter Sunday, and to commemorate it, we had a local artist carve a goose egg with the design of a Celtic cross (our wedding rings are from Ireland, to honor my heritage, since I took his very Italian last name).  That egg made it safely through a move, and a major remodel, and then stood on a little clear stand on a shelf in our living room.  Until the night I was dusting, and knocked it to the floor, where it shattered, Humpty-Dumpty style into a thousand pieces.

I texted Doug at work
Me: I'm so mad at myself.  I broke something important.
Doug: Was it the egg?
Me: Yea, how did you know? 
Doug: It's ok honey.  It was fragile.  Our love isn't.
Me: Aww.  Now I'm crying again!
Doug: I'm glad you broke it.  I always worried I would.

The next morning, I woke up, and on the shelf was a new egg:

And it was displayed on a peppermill. 

...And that's why I love that man.

finding something to celebrate

I've started to write this post a couple of times now, and kept abandoning it.  But it's been rattling around inside me and I should probably just spit it out. 

Mother's Day is a tough time of year for a lot of women.  It's not like Father's Day, when Home Depot and Lowes are pretty much the only ones reminding you that dad deserves a little something.  As women, we've got Hallmark, Jared, ProFlowers.com, even Giant Eagle shoving it in our faces.  Holidays are always hard when you're missing a child, whether it's one you remember, or one you've only dreamt of, but Mother's Day is probably the biggest sore spot for all of us un-mothers, however we got to be that way. 

Last year, my final round of Clomid failed the day before Mother's Day.  Doug and I had decided early that fertility treatment past medicine was not the route for us, so in that moment, I knew in my gut that a pregnancy wasn't going to happen.  Tests over the summer confirmed that I was correct.  By then I was already resigned.  I'd spent Mother's Day suffering through the worst of my grief. 

But even in my suffering, I knew how lucky I am.  Because as soon as I realized the Clomid hadn't worked, I called my mom, and she showed up at my door with a bottle of wine and a shoulder to cry on.  She has been, and continues to be, my confidante and my best friend, my supporter and my voice of reason.  At my very worst, and my very best times, she's always been there.  Growing up, the house was tidy, the meals were homemade, my Halloween costumes were hand-sewn and my birthday cakes were always made from scratch.  She did it all while holding down a full-time job, and still found time to read me bedtime stories each night.  She set the bar impossibly high, and I can only hope I'm half as good a mom as she was, and still is.

I'm lucky for all the great women in my life.  My grandma (God rest her soul) who had such a big heart, who gave to every charity under the sun, who was so insightful and kind.  My Aunt Sue, who was my vacation mommy when my mom couldn't come on family trips.  My mother-in-law Jan, who's incredibly thoughtful, who jumped on board with my Buttered Up Baby products, and has been selling like it's her job to support us and our dream.  I've been blessed, and I know it.

So Mother's Day still makes me kind of sad, but this year, I've got a better mindset.  I'm running in the Race for the Cure 5K.  I'm fundraising for our adoption, and hoping that I can turn my lotions and scrubs into a little business.  Next year, if we've been matched by then, I plan to put a portion of the proceeds from my sales toward another waiting family's adoption costs.  Make this time of year a bit brighter for someone who might be having a hard time finding something to celebrate.


P.S. I have a couple new scents for sale!  Chocolate cherry and herb garden didn't sell especially well, so they've been replaced.  Check out the fundraising page to see what's new!

death, taxes, and rainy weekends in the Burgh

One thing any Pittsburgher knows is this: the weather is unpredictable.  We had 85 degree days back in March, and now that we're nearing May, the forecast for tomorrow shows a high of 48 and rainy.  We've been planning for months to have a multi-family yard sale tomorrow and I was really looking forward to having some of my body butter and salt scrubs for sale, with Mother's Day coming up and all.  Now, I'm suspecting it's going to be a bust because of the weather.  At least we get to see some out-of-town family who are coming in to help out, so it's not a total loss. 

The lousy weather does force my hand on another issue I'd back-burnered due to sunny weather, though: the baby blanket I'd been cross stitching.  Back in July when we started our home study, I started cross stitching again, for the first time in years.  My grandma loved to cross stitch, and taught me how to do it when I was a little girl.  She passed away about 8 months before we started our adoption journey, and I knew that if she had been alive and healthy, she would have done something like this for us, to commemorate our experience.  So I picked it back up as a sort of tribute to her, as well as a way to pass the time while we waited.  

I found an old pattern book of baby animals that I just loved, and began stitching the squares, with the intent to quilt them all together in the end, patchwork-style.  I had finished 5 of them by early March, when we found out the second matching call had gone to another family.  And all of a sudden, I lost my momentum.  I blamed it on the pretty weather, and the sad state of our yard, and wanting to garden, or run and enjoy the sunshine on my lunch breaks instead of sitting at my desk doing needlework.  I blamed it on not having the perfect pattern for the last and final square (I badly want a giraffe, but the artist didn't make that design). 

The truth is, I just needed a break.  When you're waiting, the phone is your lifeline even when you haven't had a potential matching call.  But when you know your profile is in a birthparent's hands, the stress is infinitely more intense.  The agency has Doug as their primary contact, so each time he called while we were waiting over that month-long period, for first one, then the other set of birthparents to make their decisions, my heart would stop.  It was especially stressful because both were newborn placements, not expectant matches, so we had to tell our employers there was a chance we would be taking emergency leave.  I'm the only person at my company who performs my job, so I also had to train a co-worker, just in case.  Because of that, several of our co-workers knew our dream was a phone call away, so our not being chosen was obvious.  It would have been nice to nurse the rejection discreetly, but we didn't have the luxury of putting space between our personal and professional lives. 

But today, I'm bringing my cross stitch bag out of the closet where it's been hidden away.  I'm creating a giraffe pattern from a drawing, and finally committing to finish this project.  I shouldn't hide the symbol of my hope away in the dark.

ready, set...

Waiting to be matched for an adoption is not the easiest thing we've ever done.  Doug and I are both only children, and as a function of that, we're pretty used to getting our way, at least to some small degree.  In this, not so much.  You wait.  Open adoption is kind of unique because we really have no idea when we'll be chosen.  It's not like we're in a line of people, and we can see our progress as those ahead of us are matched.   Instead, one day, a birthmom (or a set of birthparents) is going to approach the agency, look at all the available profiles, and select ours.  That's intimidating.  It has to be a good fit, and you have to convey that with just a little two-page letter.

I've found that most people are in one of two camps: either you know absolutely nothing about adoption, or you have an adoption story of your own to tell, whether family or friend.  Just last night, we were chatting with a couple whose craigslist posting we answered, and the woman's brother and his wife are also waiting to be matched.  There isn't that nasty stigma about adoption anymore (thank you Modern Family!), and people talk about it openly. 

We chose open adoption for a couple reasons.  One is that we are only children.  We may only be able to adopt one child, and since there won't be any cousins, or aunts and uncles, or possibly even siblings, the idea of our child feeling like part of a bigger family is kind of appealing.  But the bigger reason is because we felt it was healthier for everyone involved.  We aren't going to pretend that this child came from us.  He or she will have ties to someone else, and questions, and we feel like our child deserves to know the background.  We can't pretend the people who give us the gift of being parents don't exist.  So whether the parents only want a letter and some photos once a year, or a face to face visit once or twice per year, we're ready and willing to make that happen.

Open adoption is kind of a new concept.  It used to be that the adoptive parents just pretended the baby was theirs, biologically, and hid any information they had about the birthparents, until they felt the child was ready to process that info, if ever.  So you've got a kid who's probably a teenager, full of normal hormones and "I hate my parents" feelings already, finding out his parents have either been lying to him or hiding information his entire life, for his own good.  And when is a good time to drop that kind of bombshell?  "Can you pass the peas, and by the way, you're not who you think you are?"  No thanks.  That's not for us.  It's really hard to backpeddle a lie or half-truth, and the longer that goes by, the less it seems like the right time.  And if our child has questions, who better to ask than the people with the answers?  Any answers we could give would only be our perceptions.

Since we're all about open adoption, we decided on domestic, and more specifically local, so the birthparents can actually have contact if they choose.  So our wait might be longer than someone who opts for domestic closed, or international adoption, but so be it.  

We had two calls in mid February, both for newborn immediate placements.  Apparently that never happens.  Before the first one, we'd been very casually prepping the nursery, painting a mural, buying things as we saw great deals. After that first call, I felt so unprepared!  Like, here we sit, thinking about being parents every day, and we don't even have a car seat!  And we could have a baby tomorrow!  So when we found out the next day that the mother had chosen a family friend, I went out anyway, and bought everything we needed to finish up the nursery.  Then, the next call came the following week, same scenario.  That one also fell through, but at least we didn't feel panicked anymore! 

So here we sit, thinking about being parents every day, and here's the room where our little one will sleep.  In the late afternoon, it lights up with the warmest, prettiest glow, all full of sunshine.  Now, we're ready.

let's get this party started

I should start this blog off by introducing us.  Doug and I are waiting to be adoptive parents.  There's a lot more to us, obviously, but our decision to adopt is such a life-altering, defining event in our lives, and it's the key to why I started this site, so it's the jumping off point.  So without further ado:

How We Got Here (The Stream of Consciousness Version)
When I was sixteen, I told my mom I was going to adopt one day.  Fast forward a decade, and I'm on a first date.  I slip on a wet tile and break my wrist.  I end up in physical therapy, where I run into a guy I knew in high school.  I go to a party at his house, and reunite with Kelly, one of my closest friends from high school.  Three months later, she talks me into blowing off our plans for the night to attend a party for one of her brother's friends.  We get there, and some guy's all over me.  I'm not interested.  Kelly introduces me to one of her brother's friends: "Erin, this is Doug.  He's a nice boy."  I tell Doug he's my boyfriend for the evening.  He agrees.  We talk all night.  We find out we're both nerds.  He offers to fly me to DC for a weekend.  He says he's kind of like a bounty hunter for the Marine Corps, so he flies everywhere.  I think he's lying.  I laugh and agree to visit.  He says he's glad he came.  Tonight was the Marine Corps Birthday Ball in DC and he originally planned to be there instead.

He calls the next day.  We meet up for a drink that night.  It's Awkward.  We both decide to give it one more chance.  A month later, I'm on a first-class flight to DC.  We're a couple.  He really is a bounty hunter for the Marines.  

Seven months later, he botches a marriage proposal.  I say yes anyway and we laugh.  In April of 2009, we get married, and I move to DC.  We're living in the same state for the first time in our relationship.  In November, we start trying to have a baby.  He decides he wants to be a civilian.  In June, we move back to Pittsburgh.  My grandma's old house is vacant.  We move in and remodel it.  It's Torture.  Still no baby.   I have a feeling it isn't in the cards.  I start making doctor appointments.  In December, I cry while I ask Doug if he's ok with adopting.  He says "yes, of course," no hesitation.  "Why are you crying, did you think I'd say no?"  We tell our parents on Christmas. 

We start researching.  We find out how expensive adoption is.  We mortgage our house.  We find a reputable agency and sign up for an orientation.  The doctor tells me we can choose to pursure fertility treatment, but will probably never conceive.  Two days later, we attend the adoption orientation.  Four months later, on my thirty-first birthday, we receive approval on our home study and become eligible to adopt.  We begin waiting....

I think our story is pretty special.  Neither of us had met prior to that night, even though we were in the same social circles for years.  Neither of us was supposed to be at that party.  I hadn't spoken to my friend Kelly in years before we were reunited, and she moved out of state just a couple months after she introduced us.  You can call that being at the right place at the right time, but I believe God called me to adopt, and then found me someone special, hundreds of miles away, to share my dream.  Sometimes God's hand doesn't gently lead where He wants you to go.  Sometimes He pushes, and you fall and break your wrist. 

Or maybe that's just me.