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

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter, little darling, it seems like years since it's been here...

Here comes the sun, little Darling.

For some reason lately, we've been getting signs everywhere. I'm not sure if they are signs from those who have passed, signs from God himself or signs we're just making up in our own head. But regardless, we're taking them for all they've got.

My grandfather used to collect dimes. He'd give us dimes each time we'd visit, filling our piggy banks with the beautiful click clack clack of our dime collections from him. He'd always have dimes in his pockets, large dime replicas in his bedroom and books of collected dimes on display. He died when I was thirteen, and ever since then whenever I'm having a bad day or I need some reassurance, a dime appears out of nowhere.

This has been happening quite a bit lately.

On the night of our first home study, I found a dime shining right outside of our doorway. The other night I was frustrated and tired, and I opened the door of the oven to get out dinner and there was a dime in the bottom of our oven. Shiny and silver it stood out, and I audibly gasped when I saw it there. How does a dime get in ones oven? How would that even happen? It certainly wasn't there when I put dinner in the oven, so how would it get there?

My grandmother, who has also passed, always wore the same perfume. Every time I feel scared or I'm having a bad day, I will smell the same perfume. It's a strong smell, like when I was younger and she'd wrap her arms around me and my face, snuggled into the side of hers, would get a big whiff of the familiar scent.

I know these are not tried and true signs, Lo. But this is a little something I like to call faith. I know when I see and smell these little signs that they are my grandparents up there looking out for me. I know with my logical brain that they are probably just things I'm pulling from the environment around me that I'm sensitive to, but then my spirit comes in and knocks some sense into my logical side- and I know my heart that it's them.

The other day my father had to have neck surgery. Thankfully he's doing well, and in the long run it should help him a great deal. While my mother was waiting for him to be released, she took a cruise around the hospital gift shop. Next to a pink owl, she found this:



If anyone knows anything about me, it's my love of Owls. Your Dad and I are planning on doing your nursery in owls, and what did she find? An owl frame, with the phrase Little One. Now I know logically they sell hundreds of these frames in gift shops across the US, and that Little One is not a proprietary name that only we call you (though I must admit, we sometimes feel like it is!) But here it was, a sign.

I know I probably sound a little crazy right now, Lo. But in this process, all we have to go on now is faith. Faith in each other, faith in adoption, faith in our family and friends, faith in how we're doing this, faith in God, fate, kismet...and most of all, faith in you.

And we have faith. That is something I want you to have and cherish, Little One. Life is crazy. Life is unpredictable. The surprises of life sometimes bring terrible things, but more often than not it brings joy and situations so amazing and wonderful you wouldn't have been able to plan them yourself, because they would far surpass your wildest dreams.

Have faith.

Have faith in us as your parents, that we love you and care about you more than anything in this world. Have faith in yourself, because I know you'll possess more smarts and power than you even know. Have faith in the world, and whatever God you believe in. Have faith in life, that it always gets better, that you have a purpose and meaning in this world. Have faith that things will work out.

We do.

Things will come together, I'm sure of it. You'll come into our lives when the time is right, we know that in our hearts to be true. In the meantime, we'll be clinging to the signs we have and carry them around with us for comfort.

But we have faith, Lo. And no one can ever take that away from us.

The sun will shine on us soon, little darling.



Love,

Mom