becoming

I haven't written in forever.  I've started a half-dozen posts, but just didn't feel any of my musings were important enough to hit the publish button.  We'll see if this one makes the cut.

As the holidays approach, and a new year is looming, I realize that I'm not the same woman I was a year ago.  Not even a little bit.  Nor do I know who I am becoming.  That sounds very angsty and little girl lost, but it's not.  I've begun to realize that the things which defined me before are different from now, and those that define me now will not be for much longer.      

A year ago, and for a couple years prior, I was consumed to the depths of my soul with my inability to bear a child, and my yearning for motherhood through our chosen path of adoption.  The decision to adopt wasn't a default kind of choice, it was more a premonition.  I knew in my gut that I wasn't going to ever fall pregnant, but I fought a hard path to acceptance.  I felt utterly alone when other women talked about their pregnancies and labors, I hated maternity photo shoots.  I hated pregnancy announcements, ultrasound photos, and baby showers, and baptisms.

I was unhealthy in more ways than one.  It was a period of such massive growth for Doug and me in our marriage, but it wasn't all sunshine and roses for our relationship, either.  I had some very dark moments, and I wasn't always able to pull my attention away from my own pain to recognize that Doug was suffering, too.  My poor health made me a poor wife in a lot of ways, as well.  Because of those two interconnected things, my physical illness and the emotional illness it caused within me, my infertility became me.  And because it was such a massive wound on my heart, I exposed it, was very open about it, because the more exposed you allow a wound to be, the less likely others are to accidentally bump against it.  That too allowed it to define me.

Then I got a hysterectomy, fully committing myself to the reality that I would never bear a child.  I swear Doug joined the Army Reserves that very week.  It's almost as though there are pivot points in life, and that period in time was one of them.  Everything was changing, we just had no idea how quickly.  Everything back then felt like we were each holding our breath.  And then came Joshua.

I smile and my eyes fill with tears just writing it.  It seems almost a glossing-over of the miracle of his placement with us, of finally achieving our dream of parenthood, to say that Doug deployed then.  But it really was just that fast.  We were a family of three for something like two weeks, then Doug left for training for three weeks, came home for 12 days, and then we watched him get on a bus and leave.  As quick as that, my identity was rewritten: deployment wife and single mom.

God's gifts are rarely given without strings attached.  I'd prayed so hard for a child, and now I have one, but such a big part of my vision for our family is notably missing.  

But the defining of myself, oh how that has changed with my new role as his momma.  He is my job.  And my joy.  I used to be creative, and a perfectionist.  My biggest struggle in becoming a single mom is the lack of focus I can apply to anything else.  Jobs I used to take time and care and pride in, now are done as quickly as possible, because my "me-time" is limited.  So that part of me, the last little controlling perfectionism I'd retained while everything else was out of my control, I've now had to grudgingly abandon.  I've learned patience I mistakenly thought I'd acquired while we waited for him, and I've learned to adapt.  I'm not angry anymore.  I don't hate all those conventions that glorify pregnancy.  I will never enjoy them myself, but I'm not as bitter about that.  It's not supposed to be as difficult as it was for us.

In a few months, my role will change again.  Doug's coming home.  It seems surreal to me that one day in the not so distant future, I'll have someone to keep an eye on Josh while I do something as mundane as wash dishes, or throw a load of laundry in the dryer.  Joshua will learn to say 'mama' and 'daddy,' because he'll have to specify which of us he wants, whereas now he cries, and he knows I am the only one who will come save him from whatever minor discomfort he suffers.  I'll have to share him.  I won't be the biggest person in his world anymore.  I'll have the chores and perks of being a wife again.  It'll be another challenge, another big change, another incarnation of myself: mother AND wife.  

another waiting game

Josh was baptized on Sunday.  I returned to work part-time on Monday.  Doug left this morning for deployment.  We've had a lot of big moments packed into a short span of time.  Life is confusing and challenging, and I think I've come to realize that all people have lives that are kind of dramatic and not always easy, and that's our normal.  That's everyone's normal.  People say how shitty it is that Doug has to leave so soon after we have Josh home.  And that's true.  But it's been true for a hundred million military members and their families over the course of history.

I guess this is a pretty pointless post.  I'm just sitting here with all this quiet, and Josh is finally asleep after hours and hours of fussing, and I'm restless, even though I'm exhausted.  I'm sure no one even reads this blog anymore.  But we are one Palermo down again, and until he's home, I'll write about being a deployed servicemember's wife.  And after that, I'll probably write about our journey to adopt another child.  Because the journey is never really finished.  You just finish one stage, and take a moment to pause and celebrate, and then you move on to the next leg of the trip.

The End

On March 23, 2013, our beatiful son was born.  Joshua Duff Palermo became the newest member of our little family, and we are so incredibly blessed.  Right now, I'm listening to the music of his swing, and his little hiccups, and I've never been happier.  Thank you to everyone who followed us on our journey, from the wait, to the sudden and unbelievably perfect match that came out of the blue when we very least expected it.  God led us to our son, and we're so very grateful.

I guess this is the end of our story, at least on this blog.  Good luck to everyone who waits for something the heart desires. 

Not a Resolution, But an Inspiration

I wrote this on Saturday, and almost didn't post it because my plan is still in the early stages, but if I put it in writing, I'll follow through.  So here we go:

Another year is nearly gone.  I sit here, thankful for the snow because it gives me an excuse to treat myself to a lazy day, when I know that what I should be doing is grocery shopping.  I look at our tree, full of Doug's childhood ornaments.  The "geek tree," as we've playfully dubbed it, because it's covered in NASA and Star Wars-themed ornaments from Hallmark, and the superhero logo bulbs I made this year, just to give it some color other than gray (not many war ships are vibrantly colored).  And the little apple ornament I insisted go on the tree (aginst our agreement that this year we use all his nerdy ornaments and leave my pretty angels and Christmas critters in their boxes until next year), in tribute to the kids in Colorado who died so close to the holidays.  I made an apple ornament like that when I was their age, and when it got too ratty, my mom recreated it, and gave it to us.  Funny how it was the very first ornament I pulled out of the box when I went hunting in the jumble of tissue paper for an angel to hang in their honor.  It just seemed to fit.

I can't imagine what Christmas was like for those families, with gifts wrapped under the tree for little ones who would never open them.  It breaks my heart.  It makes me feel ashamed that I'm still sad there was no Baby's First Christmas ornament on our tree, like we'd hoped.  Our sadness simply pales in comparison.  But there it is.  I am sad that it didn't happen this year.  I cry every day for the families who lost, but I still feel like a huge jerk because our sadness for them is enormous, but doesn't make our own sadness go away.  When we started waiting, we optimistically thought last year would be our last Christmas as a family of two.

I guess I'm probably not supposed to say that.  Blogs like this, intended for an expectant mom to possibly read and maybe choose us, aren't supposed to dwell on our disappointment.  We're supposed to talk about how wonderful our lives are, not the challenges we've faced.  But honestly, if I've learned anything in the past year, it's that our challenges are what make people care about us.  No one ever felt inspired by someone's description of a life of perfect ease.  It's the struggles, and how we overcome them, that compel us, that make us feel a connection to one another.

For all menopause at 32 sucks, I watch Teen Mom and think that I wouldn't want those girls' lives either.  I don't wish I'd had a baby at their age, even though back then, maybe I would have actually been able to conceive.  Everything would have been different.  College, work, friends.  But I probably wouldn't have met Doug, and that's the only thing that makes me pause, and say, "nope, I'm glad things turned out the way they did." 

This path has been full of a lot of tears and sadness.  Infertility is an emotional drain, and adoption has its own difficulties.  But I want to take our experience, and do some work with the church, offering support for people struggling with infertility or their adoption wait.  It's so easy to get caught up in how unfair it is when our plans don't work out, and I've seen a lot of women, especially, lose their faith in God altogether because of the same sort of experience Doug and I have had.  There's a huge stigma about infertility being too personal to talk about, so people going through it end up doing it alone, or on some internet site where they can stay anonymous.  I'd like to form a faith-based support group so people can come and actually talk about their feelings, and not feel so alone. 

And as Doug said to me the other night...in a way, as bad as this has sucked, we're lucky that we went through it together.  Because it brought us closer than we would ever have been otherwise.  I want to share that perspective, and that hope, and that appreciation that God knew exactly what He was doing in our lives. 

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.