Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="470"]                                           A glimpse of our journey thus far[/caption]

Little one, time is moving so incredibly slowly lately. The minutes feel like months, the days like years and the weeks like decades. We're so close to getting word on the home study, and yet it feels so very far away.

 

Part of me feels like once we get the paperwork back is when our real search can begin. We can start putting our information up on parent profiling websites and start making more connections. But for now, it's the calm before the storm. I should be reveling in these quiet moments, enjoying this time before the greatest journey of our lives launches into the ether. But I can't, because I'm just too worked up and nervous and excited to get to you. I've waited for five years, and as much as I don't want to wait anymore I know that the second they put you in our arms that this time won't matter at all. It will melt away like a Salvador Dali clock, and all those tiny grains of sand that have been slowly pouring through this hourglass will seem more akin to a tablespoon versus the endless beach it feels like right now.

 

It's odd to miss someone that you've yet to meet, but that is how I feel about you Lo. You're the missing puzzle piece that will make our family picture complete, and we love you already. We haven't met you, we don't know what you'll look like, we don't know what color skin you'll have, what color eyes, whether you're a boy or a girl, whether you've got curly or straight hair. We don't know if you'll be into ballet, or football, or art, or none of the above. You're a stranger to us now, sweet baby, but you're so very not a stranger. You're in our hearts growing each week. I can almost feel your presence in my soul, and I can feel that red thread connecting us all.

 

It was the same when I met your Dad. On our first date, the first time we looked eye to eye, I just knew in my heart we were meant to be together. It's an other worldly feeling, a deja-vu that this is someone you've known before, or known forever. But you don't, you've just met them. Even though we know nothing about you, we know you. We know that you'll be our baby, our family, our red thread connection.It's a connection I wish I could explain but the words fail me- they just don't do it justice. I'm not sure if everyone experiences this kind of connection to other human beings, or if it is some weird super power your Dad and I have been blessed with. Either way, we don't take it for granted.

 

Tomorrow we meet with our new adoption attorney. It's a long drive to DC, but we look at it as a new adventure. We're waking up early, driving to a new place and experiencing a new day together. That is what I love about our little family, Lo. Your Dad and I look at every day as a new adventure, one that  we get the honor to experience together as a family unit. I hope you look at life the same way, sweet baby. Life is something to be savored, not wasted. The people that roam this earth looking at each morning as the same doll-drum day are not really living. Marking days off the calendar is not a life, Lo. Living every second of the day and experiencing new things- even if it is something small- that is what living means to us. I try to remind myself of that in this journey: to live every second of it, even the painful ones. These moments of anxiety and wait will just make the end result that much sweeter. I will never take a second of our lives with you for granted, because I've known pain. I've known nights where I'm lying awake until the wee hours of the morning wondering when you'll be here. When you are here, I will remember those nights, and I will look at every moment that you're in our lives as a gift, because it is. It's a great two-way street we'll have baby. We're giving each other the gift of life. My God, that is a tremendous and beautiful thing.

 

It's going to be the most beautiful thing we've ever experienced together. It will definitely be our best adventure yet.

 

I just can't wait, Lo. Unfortunately though, I have to wait.

 

 

That is the hardest part.

 

Waiting for the big adventure,

Love,

Mom

 

 

Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Dad.

 

[caption id="attachment_2733" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Your Dad, studying[/caption]



Little One, today is Fathers Day. For some reason, I think it's hitting me harder than Mothers Day did this year. I think I know the reason (we thought you'd be here by now, and that we'd be celebrating fathers day with you) but the reason doesn't really matter.What matters today is the man who you'll one day call your Father.

Today is all about your Dad.

Let me tell you a few key things about your Dad, that you'll know as you grow up with him but I should point out:

[caption id="attachment_2735" align="aligncenter" width="300"] At our wedding[/caption]

- Your Dad is the sweetest person alive.I know all wives (well, a lot anyway) say their husband is the sweetest, but trust me. your Dad really is the sweetest. At the end of our first date I was cursed with a migraine (they happened a lot when I was in college) and your Dad offered to drive behind my car all the way home to make sure I got home safe. At that time, he lived over 40 miles away from my house, but it didn't matter to him. It didn't matter to him that it was our first date, that he had just met me, that I lived far away- he would do anything to make sure I was safe. That night I knew he was the one.

 

[caption id="attachment_2736" align="aligncenter" width="300"] On the train in Strasburg, PA[/caption]

 

- Your Dad is extremely smart. He always has been. There is an age old tale that your Dads side of the family always brings out when talking about your Dads childhood. He was young (three or four years old) and got in trouble as toddlers do. His punishment was to sit at the top of the stairs for a few minutes, and he whined to his family, "Can I get a reprieve?" What three year old says that? And now as an adult, he will try to explain computer programs or theories to me and I'm at a total loss and will usually make a joke to not look so dumb about whatever it is he's talking about.

[caption id="attachment_2737" align="aligncenter" width="232"] We Mustache you a question[/caption]

- Your Dad is silly. He's a joker, a laugher and a prankster. He can put on a silly voice and have full on conversations with me about things that don't exist, just because we think it's hysterical.

[caption id="attachment_2738" align="aligncenter" width="201"] All Smiles[/caption]

- Your Dad is romantic. Not in a traditional flowers way (though he does do that too) but what counts more is the little ways in which he shows his love for me. The everyday romantic gestures that mean so much more than big sweeping dates. The little notes left on the door, the whispers that I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. I hope that one day, you either find a man as wonderful as him or become a man as wonderful as him.

[caption id="attachment_2739" align="aligncenter" width="225"] Holding our nephew[/caption]

- Your Dad is nurturing. He cares about our two dogs as if they are our kids, he cuddles with them and shows his love easily. When I'm sick or feeling down, he's right there to lend a caring hand and soothes me back to health. Every cell in his body exudes his caring, loving personality.

[caption id="attachment_2740" align="aligncenter" width="300"] In NYC[/caption]

What does this all equal out to, Little One? It all means this: your Dad is freagin' amazing. He's going to be one super Dad to you. Does that mean he won't make mistakes? Of course not. We both will. I can guarantee that there is going to be a learning curve for us since we've never experienced parenting. But I also know that now, in this moment before you're even here, he's more of a Dad than most Dads out there. He's been there every single step of the way, we've been in this journey together, one thousand percent. He cleaned the house spotless with me for the home study, he took time off of work to get things done, he talked me to sleep on tough nights when the crying wouldn't stop. He's going to be your Dad for the long haul, forever. He's always going to be there, day or night. You're going to be so incredibly lucky Little One.

I'm trying to remember how much this fathers day hurts. I know that sounds odd, but it's in a good way. My hope and prayer is that next year at fathers day, we'll be holding you, talking cavalierly about last years Fathers Day being the last painful one. I hate putting a timeline on this journey, because each time we have it's been met with hurt and pain- but I think in order to be hopeful we have to put a time on it. And if next year, we're still waiting, then we wish and hope again.

You're out there, sweet baby. It's just a matter of time.

Until then, I'm wishing your childless Dad a Happy Fathers Day regardless. He's already one of the best Dads I know.

[caption id="attachment_2741" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Your Dad and I walking on the boardwalk with our nephew[/caption]



Waiting for next June,



Love,

Mom

No matter how much you plan, it is tenacity, unyielding desire to success, and the ablity to cope with change that will eventually prevail.

Little One, today is a bit rough. Today is the day I thought you might be here. Today is the day we thought you might be due. That is until, as you know how your story plays out- that mother decided to parent.

We’re still excited for her, happy that was her decision. We hold no ill feelings towards her or her choices at all. That is how this part of the tale was meant to go. It’s how it was supposed to be, and we know that. I wish knowing that made it easier, but it doesn’t. It still aches, just a little. It still hurts to see the little tiny heart mark I made under the 11 on the calendar  by my work desk. It still hurts to think of that part of my brain that I've tried  very hard to surppress where the flowery thoughts flourish. Thoughts like maybe, just maybe, we’d be parents by Fathers day. It still stings when I think that maybe you won’t be here by Christmas the way we imagined, or that we’ll keep collecting items and filling an empty room for years. It makes my soul ache to think that it will take a long time for you to get here. Then there is that small quiet space inside my heart that whispers the words I don’t want to hear, that maybe you’ll never get here at all.

It’s difficult to pull myself together, but I have to do so and realize that this was not the mark of an end, but of a beginning. A new start for us, and for that mother. It’s like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. It might seem like the end of the world now, but tomorrow we might grow wings and flourish and live a life so wonderful it never even crossed our minds or hearts that it could turn out that way. I know beauty lies ahead for us, that we’ll have your room filled with not just things for you, but with your laughter, your own hopes and joys. I know that one day your cry will bounce off the walls of that room and fill our hearts with a sense of belonging, replacing the longing feeling that resides there now. I know that years of magical Christmas mornings lie ahead- mornings where we wake you up with the news that Santa has arrived and brought an entire sleigh full of goodies, and those years will morph into ones where you’re the one tapping us awake to tell us that Santa came. I know that this may not be the last Fathers day that your Dad doesn’t get to celebrate with you here, but that it lies ahead, somewhere out there on our unknown timeline.

I know we’ll turn into a butterfly soon.

 

I remember writing to you months ago, saying repeatedly that I wish I had a time machine that could take me to this very day and let me know the outcome. But in retrospect, I’m glad that was never in the realm of possibility. It’s better to not know these things. Had I seen that this didn’t work out the way we’d hoped, would I have wanted to go through with it? I still think yes, but it would have caused more pain. I heard about it when the time was right for me to hear about it. Things always happen for a reason, and on a certain timeline. That is the hardest part of life, sweet baby. I don’t know if I will ever get over not knowing the when’s of this life. There are still times when I wish I knew exactly when you will be in our lives, but it’s for the better that I don’t have a clue. I have a feeling you’re going to surprise us and sweep us off of our feet, probably when we least expect it. Knowing would take away the magic, and trust me: we always opt for the magic of life than the knowledge of logic. There is a lot less of the former, so never take those magical moments for granted.

 

Behind the wound of you not being here yet lies a big abyss of wonderful- our hope. Our hope that you’re still out there, waiting for us to find you. That is what is keeping me going during tough days like this, knowing that it’s my job and duty as your Mom to find you out there and bring you home to us. I’m convinced now more than ever that I was put on this planet to do just that. I was meant to be your Mom, and when the right time and place collide it’s going to be amazing.

 

There is a Chinese proverb that reads, “An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet. Regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.” I know that read thread is already there in our hearts. We just have to wait for it to connect us. I’m not sure when the circumstances will be right, or if this will be our one and only missed connection or the start to many (we hope not), but either way we’ll find you.

I’m going to hold on to that string for dear life.





Waiting to grow butterfly wings,

Love,

Mom

It takes a village...

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="602"] Reflection: the view from the hike we took in the park by our house on Saturday.[/caption]

Little One, I've been reflecting a lot lately. I've realized lately that adoption is the ultimate truth to the old adage that it takes a village to raise a child... only with adoption, it takes a village to find our child.

And boy, Lo. We've got quite a village around us.

 

Over the weekend, we recieved gifts from complete strangers of the following:

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="570"] Your future things![/caption]

It's a baby bath tub, a co sleeper, a high chair, a changing table pad and a closet organizer. My sister has also put a lot of stuff aside for you from your cousins. Our neighbor is holding on to things for us. There is an entire community cheering us on every step of the way. It's such a beautiful thing to be thought of and given things from strangers, neighbors, family and friends. We're so incredibly lucky, Lo.

You're so incredibly lucky.

I have friends calling to tell me they've seen our flyer up at places where we haven't put it up. Our family, friends and neighbors are working hard to get the word out on our behalf. They are all so involved and caring. They ask how we're doing, they excitedly inquire about potential nursery decor and offer words of encouragement when we're having bad days. Strangers happily say congratulations when we tell them the news that we're trying to adopt. The world has been painted in a much more positive and beautiful light for us since this journey began.

 

Here is the thing, sweet baby... this whole village isn't just surrounding us for the here and now. The village surrounds every aspect of adoption. You're so lucky in that aspect. Most children have two people involved: their Mom and Dad. To make our family, there will be at the very least six people involved just for the match to be made. There will be us, your biological parents and two lawyers. That is not counting the potential counselors, social workers, physicians, nurses, extended family on both our end and your biological families end. There will be an entire team getting you to us: a team Little One. We're part of the founding members of team Lo, but trust me your team has more members on it than an NFL league.

It will take a village to even get you here, baby.

 

If you've never seen the symbol for adoption, it empitomizes this theory. It's a triangle intertwined with a heart. It symbolizes the three sides of adoption: the adoptive parents, the biological parents, and the adoptee (that would be you, Lo). They are all intertwined within a heart to show that all three sides are touched with the unwavering love of the adoption, and each other. We're going to love your biological parents so much, Little One. They are giving us the best gift in the entire world. Hopefully, they'll love us an incredible amout as well. After all, they are trusting their greatest gift with us, in our hands and our care.

 

And you will love both sides, and that is perfectly okay. We want you to love both. We want you to realize the sacrifice your biological family made for you, and realize that we're no better than they are, and vice versa. We're just pieces to a big family puzzle, Lo. We are people that love and care for you above all else, and we just happened to be in different places in our lives at a certain place in time. That doesn't mean they don't love or care about you, and we want you to love and care about them too.

 

Don't ever, even for a split second think that you loving them will make us feel threatened. It won't. And to that point, we're not the important piece here, we're not whose feelings matter in this equation. It's ultimately you who matters most, sweet angel. It's your feelings, your love to give. We respect and honor that. We realize that your heart has so much room in it, room for more than just us. And that is okay. That is a concious decision we made when we  decided to adopt, and why we would like an open adoption. We realize that you have enough love to give to this entire village that brought you here.

Love the village, Lo. Love every entire person in the equation. It will only make you a better, more well rounded person.

I've thought a lot lately about how it may seem for you as a child. Will it be normal to be adopted? Will it be special? Will you boast with pride when people ask about your family? If you have a visit with your biological family, will that seem normal to you, or will you wonder why other children don't have those visits?

No matter how you see it when you're young, I hope you see that we are making the decisions that we think are the best for you. You might go to school and talk about your Mom and your First Mom, and that may confuse your classmates. But always know that it's a blessing to have so many people care and love for you, not a curse.

It's a blessing to have this village. I hope you see it as a blessing too.

 

I'm sure it will also take a village to raise you. But I'm not worried. Between our supportive family, the beauty of open adoption and the community around us, our village will be nothing but people ready to help you and our family.

 

We have a full team of "love soldiers" working on our side. When you make your appearance, it's only going to get better. You're going to have this love and support forever, as are we- and for that, we're the luckiest little family in the world, Lo.

 

The Village Waiting Mother,

Love,

Mom

Mother Nature gives every bird a worm, but she does not throw it into the nest...

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="392"] Three birdies of a feather, nesting together[/caption]

Little One, this weekend your Dad and I grew wings. We sprouted feathers out of our backs, and in perfect bird fashion and with a big swoop, we began building our nest.

 

Thats right, we're nesting.

.... Big time.

 

We kept telling ourselves we wouldn't purchase anything until the homestudy was complete and in our hands. But then we saw a swing with an owl on it, and it was half price on sale. So we bought it... Just this one thing,we thought- nothing else. But then the matching diaper bag was on sale. And before you know it, we had this lamp in the cart:

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="361"] I mean, really. It was far too adorable to pass up.[/caption]

 And suddenly, we were nesting. We're grabbing these little twigs (pretty fitting, since we're doing a nature themed nursery) and slowly building our little nest. Next thing we knew, we were trying to figure out how to finagle a bulky car seat box into the car:

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="361"] Your Dad has become quite the box wrangler. And your Mom is a giant goof who makes an idiot out of herself in stores, but has a good time regardless (don't worry- we didn't buy you the creepy pillow!):   [/caption]

I have to admit, it's really scary to be building a nest for the tiny bird we don't have yet. But it feels good, and right. It feels right to pick out nursery colors and decide on what kind of awesome mural I'm going to attempt to paint on your walls. It feels right in our hearts to get these twigs together and begin building our future. We have faith that soon our tiny bird will fill the nest we've worked so hard to build.

My nerves have been terrible lately waiting for the homestudy approval. Though I know logically that we have nothing to fear, it's a terrifying thing to put everything you've ever wanted in your entire life into the hands and control of someone else. But Lo, that is what adoption is all about. Trust, faith, and the deep unwavering knowledge that one day we'll be a family and all will be right. We're going to have to trust your first mother, we're going to have to trust our social worker, and above all, we are going to have to trust our instincts.

All of this nesting reminds me of the Bob Marley song Three Little Birds. I try to repeat the lyrics to myself over and over, "Don't worry about a thing, cause every little thing is gonna be alright." Marley knew what was up.

It's all about the positivity.

And for the record: I hope you like your nature nested nursery (try saying that one three times fast!)There will be sweet little deer, owls, trees, and of course three little birds by the doorstep.

 

Cause every little thing is going to be alright.

 

Waiting patiently in the nest for her baby bird,

Love,

Mom