The New Year

Anyone who has been keeping up with us over the last year by observing this space would probably agree that “shipwrecked” would be an apt description. It has certainly felt that way at times. In fact, there have been days when we even felt like castaways, when each tangential movement of the sun’s arc above us felt like the giant hand of a clock. Almost every day, the nagging thoughts of futility and lost time nibbled at our spirit. At night, our wreckage glowed under the immense universe of stars, all of them casting their austere and unfeeling gaze on us.

While recently perusing one of our coffee table books entitled “Earth from Above”, I came across a thought-provoking image. As I held it in front of me, this picture seemed to represent a sort of hopeless, incurable inertia. Something about it stuck to me, and I could not put it down.

It was of an enormous ship rusting in the middle of the desert. The northern part of the Atlantic coast of Namibia is called the “Skeleton Coast”. The Bushmen of the Namibian interior call the region "The Land God Made in Anger”. In these parts, the stormy waters wash huge vessels deep inland and then recede, leaving the ships awkwardly stranded far from the coastline.

It’s funny to think that at this very moment in time, in a wildly distant landscape, giant ships creak and squeal in the Namib Desert. And all that is heard between the colossal moaning of abandoned steel in the desert wind is absolute silence.

A few days away from the office has allowed for some quiet reflection. And so I am spending some time in that silent space and reflecting back upon the events of the last year and how they have led us here.

This message you’re reading, another page from our sea-hardened, sun-bleached captain’s log, could not possibly describe every aspect of our emotional journey this year. Suffice it to say that after the great storm of 2012, our ship finally lies quietly and at peace on barren earth. Our sails are torn and still. I imagine desert nomads and herders staring up with mild curiosity at our ridiculous and destitute hopecraft lying marooned in the sand. They would see our present situation as immensely strange. Why would we ever decide to do this to ourselves?

We have been told recently that we are not the decision makers, that we are not the ones who get to decide the outcome of this process. And the present circumstances would certainly point to that conclusion. But while so much gets credited to the birth mother for her courage and that all-important decision for her child, I can only speak for us when I say that, while we might not be in control of the outcomes, we have certainly made some of the most profound decisions of our lives over the last year. Most importantly, we decided to open our hearts and minds to growing our family through adoption.

We have also made some extremely difficult decisions that have taken an enormous amount of courage. We dared to enter the world of adoption, we forfeited our privacy and decided to forego the biological option any longer, we decided to share in full detail the enormity of our emotional journey with others. We decided it was worth it to spill our guts, fill out reams of repetitive paperwork, author a short photographic history of our marriage, complete with an intimate description of our dreams for a family. We decided to trust, amid some very obvious looming uncertainty. We decided to follow the rules, swallow our pride, stand in line, and hope without the benefit of having a complete picture of what awaited us… and ultimately bear the brunt of others’ decisions, be they downright malicious or understandably unpredictable. We decided to do all of those things. So you see, we’ve made plenty of decisions, and yet whether or not we will actually adopt still remains to be seen. Of course, we never actually made the decision to adopt; we simply decided to embark on the process. However, if there were an emotional surcharge that, by paying in tears, might grant us approval from the adoption gods who would then suddenly make it so, then we’ve certainly paid in full.  

Despite what most of us would probably like to believe— that something positive can come of the disappointments we’ve felt—not a whole lot of lessons can really be taken from 2012, except for one: that living intentionally and with great intensity gives meaning to our life. Without making the decision to step out into the void, we would never have known the possibilities that awaited us, good or bad. At least we can say that, looking back on 2012, we faced a lot of uncertainty with courage and togetherness. And we were reminded that we are both there for one another.

After 12 years together, being there for each other is old hat. That is the commitment we made the day we first embarked on our voyage together. And we do take commitment seriously. The time we are living through now is exactly what our tears foretold when we first said our vows. On that peaceful, sea-scented afternoon, amid the giant cypress trees in that golden coastal meadow, we held hands and exchanged rings and promises as our eyes welled up. All of you who were watching from the sun-drenched aisles heard us promise that we would carry each other through any storm.

As we awaken to each new day of the new year, we’ll greet, without expectation, the many possibilities it contains. To exhaust the metaphor, we’ve made the needed repairs to our hopecraft and now have our sea legs in the event of any more unexpected motion sickness on this adoption journey. We hope that more benevolent waters will carry us forth in 2013 as we take our daring vessel beyond this desolate place to a hopeful harbor where it can be finally anchored, safe and sound.

Happy New Year!

Merry White Christmas

It has taken five winters in Colorado, but we finally woke up to a beautiful white Christmas today. What a sight! Everything around us looks like a postcard-perfect description of the cozy song. Through the see-through fireplace, aglow in the living room, I noticed paw prints in the snow weaving through the lit evergreen trees. Josh is still sleeping, surely dreaming of sugar plums, and I'm cuddled under a blanket, hot cider steaming nearby on the end table.

There are many different interpretations of the significance of this time of year in our culture. I once had a Jewish friend admonish the strings of twinkling lights tangled around buildings in San Francisco for the holidays because "they didn't represent the entirety of beliefs in our culture and would give visitors a false impression of what our nation holds dear."

I had another, less-religious, friend experience surprise at her new in-laws' tradition of baking a birthday cake and singing Happy Birthday to baby Jesus on Christmas day. She was shocked into being reminded what the day means to some.

And, our American Muslim friends observe the holidays because they get the time off of work and school, but not for any other reason tied to their faith. When it comes time for the celebrations of Islam, though, that is some good eatin'!

In our home, we tend to hold to the cultural traditions around the season as the important parts, not so much the religious significance. There is too much debate about what and why we celebrate when we do, but it is generally accepted that it's a time to reflect on the meaningful parts of our lives and share them with our loved ones. The spirit in the air of everyone anticipating delicious, high-calorie meals, family gatherings filled with laughter (depending on the family!) and forming new memories with friends under twinkling, lighted streets are the elements that I get excited about as they approach after Thanksgiving.

The California girl in me, still getting used to "real" winters, does place a lot of significance on a day that starts the Christmas week off every year. That is Winter Solstice (typically December 21st), the turning point in the year when the days begin to get longer and that toasty sun starts to hangout a little bit more each day.

In a season of holiday parties, we host our own version on the 21st each year. We invite our friends and family to eat lots of food and drink apple cider and wine (and beer and alcohol and juice boxes), gather with others to share good conversation, exchange nature-themed gifts and bring in the light and hope of a happy and healthy new year! Many traditional customs are incorporated into this celebration and we've made them our own, with no religious significance, but all the togetherness that each religion espouses during the holidays.

A few days later, on Christmas, we have our enormous tree (thank goodness for 9-10' ceilings) shimmering out at us through the memories that each ornament represents. We have a fire in the hearth, pajamas and slippers, stockings on the mantel, a few gifts, celebratory music, guilt-free meals and enough love to fill the house and spill over to the neighbors. It is a sweet time and I revel in imagining that you are all cozy and relaxed as you read this in the midst of your own family traditions.

Have a special day with your loved ones, laugh a lot and eat up!

Keeping God in Stitches

Okay so we're not religious folks, though it would be nice to have something to blame for all of this, besides ourselves for signing up to be subjected to the whims of the universe. Woody Allen is credited with saying "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans." We're doing our best to keep the eternal being doubled over.

As the Christmas holiday approaches, I am losing track of all of the failed plans made for this year's season of celebration. Down to the wire, with just a few hours to go, things continue to change on us. As a perpetually busy minded planner type, this is just getting ridiculous. I could have gotten the hint months ago, but since I'm stubborn at creating my own destiny, I just keep asking for more. Finally, I'm screaming "UNCLE!" I give up. Whatever is going to happen, will happen.

Last Christmas was very hard on both of us. We reasoned that tears on Christmas day, after a lovely time with family, were just not acceptable. So, we decided to let go of the pain of our losses and pursue the path of adoption. Let the merriment begin!

• In July, dreams of a three month old baby girl staring up at our gigantic tree of lights in December warmed our hearts. In October, we forfeited that plan.
• In November, our taste buds were preparing for some local food and village soccer games in northern Thailand on Christmas day.
• By the end of the month, we were letting that plan go to make room for a baby boy to cuddle who would be just days old.
• Earlier this month, we put that fantasy to rest and got ready for some familiar family time.
• Two days ago, we learned that one set of parents had dinner plans with others for Christmas (though the invitation was extended to us as well) and Tiffany's local set of parents were heading to New York with the Red Cross for a continued commitment to help the people affected by hurricane Sandy. Foiled again.

Today, we made yet more plans (I did mention that stubborn factor, right?) to head to Tiffany's parents' house, even in their absence, and enjoy a couple of days away from home and the dreams of what's to come and planned to do nothing except spend time in the hot tub, under the stars. Unfortunately, that plan has been turned on its head too.

As I have already written, I surrender. I'm not going to commit to anything. I'm not expecting anything. I'm cozy by a fire and the weather is getting cooler. In this present moment, I'm comfortable with no anticipation that this feeling with change. In fact, it can only get better since the schemer in me won't let it go and I now have every intention to get up and make some hot chocolate and Baileys. Ahhh, the good life of absolute stillness. Let's see how long I can let this last.

...darn it! No milk, no hot chocolate. That's it, I'm done!

Due Date Thoughts

As December 20th approaches, I'm reflecting on the significance of a delivery due date and how it rises to supreme importance and falls to be forgotten. I don't know any babies who were born on their due date, or at least the remarkable chance of that happening faded the second the baby arrived and the date to remember became their actual birth date. I can say that, for me, everything that these dates represent before there is someone to hold doesn't just vanish when the date passes. I will still be mindful when September 11th hits each year. I still remember that September 15th was the due date for delivery of our first match (and September 7th was when she arrived, and September 30th was the second fake due date so more money would be doled out) and that tomorrow was the stated due date for delivery of our second match.

All of these numbers swimming around in my mind bring to the forefront what these dates represented. Before the miscarriage, the scam "artist" and the most recent change of heart about parenting a baby, there were dreams associated with those dates. Extended family all over the country, and all over the world in our case, were ecstatic to welcome a new baby into our lives. Adorable outfits and exuberant plans aside, love filled the air for those little babies.

On a walk the other night, I shared with Josh that I wondered how they were doing. In each case, I feel that they are in loving homes (remember, as far as we know, Satan's baby was adopted, so she's not in that swamp of yuck). This isn't a case of feeling like they should be with us, it's just that they aren't.

There is a lot written about the feelings around the loss of a child, or even a child hoped for, and that is not what I'm feeling. One aspect of this journey that I haven't seen in books or training is the acknowledgement that these babies had entire extended adoptive families wishing them the best before they arrived and then those dreams cease with one brief phone call. On some higher level, I found myself thinking about these kids when they are 10 or 15 and considering how odd it is that they will likely not (nor am I advocating that they should) know that hundreds of other people were really, acutely focused on their health in the womb so many years ago.

In the interest of sharing the journey of adoption with all of you, I wanted to note that there is this strange element to the realization that we're asked to be open to the hope of, prepare for and begin to attach to a baby while they're still in the womb and that these babies will never know us. It might be assumed that we just bag up the clothes, supplies and hopes for a newborn and wait for the next match. However, I can't imagine anyone with children accepting that all of their kids are interchangeable, nor that their dreams for each of them are either. It feels important to own the strangeness that comes from having loved a baby on the way and then be expected to just put that aside when it doesn't work out and continue waiting. It works with cars, trips or other things. It's weird with kids.

I do not feel a sense of entitlement to know how things turned out for them. I don't know these babies any more than they will know me and I certainly don't expect to have a relationship with them. They were not, after all, meant to join our family and I genuinely accept that.

But, we planned for them and people in our lives began to love them before any of us even knew them. I imagine being one of them at my age now and I think I'd be intrigued to know that there were strangers out there waiting for me to be born and join their family. Strangers who loved me unconditionally before knowing that I would never know them at all. It's just a peaceful feeling to think about people we don't even know wishing us the very best in life. And that's what I feel we've all given to those two little ones.

What to Expect When You're Expected Not to Expect Anything

I reminded myself last night why I started this blog earlier this year. It wasn't meant to be a rambling journal chronicling the lives of TaJ. It was to keep you all informed because we were getting a lot of interested questions about the adoption process and what we were going through. We've certainly given you plenty to absorb in response to your inquiries. We wish they were all good stories, but we're feeling like these disappointments are the trend with our journey. Still, we carry on.

Lately, the questions have returned. "You're not giving up, are you?", "Are you sticking with your agency?", "Have you heard anything more about the case in CA?", "Does it happen often that the birth mother changes her mind like that?"

True to our commitment to ourselves, and our unknown babies, we'll answer what we have answers to and what we feel we can share. Today, I wanted to update you on what we've requested from the agency moving forward.

After last week's disappointment, we were asked if, in the future, we would want to know about the match before the baby was born. It was presumed, with good reason, that the "knowing wait" which resulted in disappointment was becoming too much to bear. We took a night to think about it and we considered our personalities, which played a key role in the anxiety of the waits we've endured. Remembering that we were advised to just "pretend like we're not waiting on the list", we tried to think of the most comfortable way to go on expecting nothing and expecting everything all at the same time.

We decided that if we're matched, we'd like a couple of weeks notice, or less. We thought about it like giving notice at work. We certainly don't need any more time to come up with supplies, clothes or names. If we're called someday to go to the hospital that very night, that's fine too. However, waiting around for three months and then spending six weeks away from home won't happen again.

The part you, as followers along this crazy path, might appreciate, is that we requested a daily check-in from the agency once we know we're waiting again. So, there might be a lot of "we haven't heard anything" texts from them, but at least we'll know that a tornado didn't sweep the agency away to Kansas (see, I told you we could come up with some doozies in the absence of info).

Maybe there will be another story to unfold soon for us, but maybe you'll have to endure posts about what we did to keep busy for another year or more. We'll try to leave out the bits about cleaning the chicken coop and washing the car. We just know you're out there following along and we want more than anything to have something to share with you.

Have a great weekend, TaJ

Broody Chickens

I've actually had the giggles on occasion thinking about one of our chickens. Just before we moved to California for six weeks, Moe went broody. This means that she sat all day on her nest expecting to hatch some chicks. This was our first exposure to it and we thought it was particularly apt that she was waiting for baby chicks as we were preparing our own nest for a baby girl.

When chickens go broody, they sit on their nest all day. They sleep in the nesting box instead of on their roost with the other birds. When we moved her to encourage her to go eat, she would climb right back in the nest. They sit on all of the eggs in the nest ready to be open to any chick that comes along, so the others had to squeeze by her to lay. They can be fussy if you get close to them, pecking you to "back off!" (Though sweet Moe would never do that.) She was literally dazed when we would move her, like she was in a trance and would stumble instead of walk when we lifted her up. Unfortunately, chickens aren't productive as they don't lay any eggs while they're broody, or for some time after. Without eggs, she really was just a pet for a while.

The giggles came when I started to compare myself to Moe. The poor thing sat there for months just knowing that a chick would come along. What she didn't seem to know was that it was impossible for her to hatch anything since we don't have a rooster to fertilize her eggs. We felt so sorry for her as she just sat in naive hope. Now, it's not so funny since we feel the same way.
 

Home sweet home for a broody chicken.

And these are her coopmates ready to play!

If Moe is to be any guide, she is now providing some inspiration to get up and roam around again. She gave up on her impossible quest and seems to have gotten on with life, as she knows it. She's been off the nest for a couple of months. She still hasn't started laying, and she probably won't now until the sun's path starts its trend back up to a higher point in the sky. C'mon Winter Solstice! Still, she's been through a hazy dazey broody spell, then she molted (lost a lot of her feathers and looked like a scraggly mess), but now she's fluffing up a beautiful new layer of feathers and starting out anew.

She seems unfazed by it all as she gets back into the business of being a chicken in an urban backyard. We're taking cues from her to get back to clucking around and remaining social this season. We find inspiration where we can, and we're lucky to have so many good friends to help us find ourselves again after an unbelievably exhausting few months. Thanks for the emails, the visits, the food and the persisting laughs. We're so grateful.

Something Special for 12/12/12

It's exactly two weeks today that we learned about our second match on our dating anniversary. Amazingly, after everything that's happened, we're still in the midst of celebration. We made the decision last weekend to go ahead and buy tickets to a concert tonight. We were hoping that the little boy we might adopt would be born today because, well, 12/12/12 would just be the coolest birth date and the last chance for the triple this century. Aside from being neato from a numbers geek perspective, it's Josh's favorite number, so we had a lot of hope. Oh well.

We went to see the band who sings our wedding song play with the Denver Symphony. The name of the band is Pink Martini, and their holiday program is so uplifting. Ari Shapiro from NPR even sings with them from time to time. We've seen them in San Francisco and three times in Denver. Each time, I wait for the familiar introduction to our wedding song. It's distinctive and when we took lessons to learn to dance a rumba for our special night, I heard it over and over and over again. The last time they were here was when we found out Ari Shapiro sang with them. After the show, they host an autograph table and we were first in line so I could chide them for never playing our song, because we're really important to them, ya know?! Ari asked me which one it was, and I answered, which constitutes an interview from the famous White House Press Correspondent, in my book. I then asked him if he ever sings on Air Force One for the President, which means I've interviewed the great journalist.

Tonight, we were waiting, as I always do. They did a few numbers from their holiday album. The lead's (China Forbes') voice melts me, so it's easy to listen to anything they do whether or not you're waiting for a favorite. Intermission came. It felt like a holiday themed show, so I lost hope again. When the second set started, each instrument began to ease into their own section of our familiar tune. I waited to make sure it wasn't a medley to warm up and then they began it en force! I screamed and, as Josh describes it, started to flip around like a sea lion. (Go ahead and laugh.) I cried most of the way through it as I was taken back to our stiff interpretation of the Latin dance in a red dress during our first number under an October full moon in 2006. For at least three minutes, and pretty much the rest of the evening, nothing mattered except that I married Josh and we danced and loved each other. When they ended, I yelled out "thank you!" because, again, they obviously did that for us.

First in line again at the autograph table, I was ready with more conversation pieces. First, I thanked them for playing the song we begged them to play last time. China responded with "which one was it?", making it clear that my previous request (in June, 2011) was not the only thing she thought about when they decided on tonight's set. Next, I told her that when I have their cds up so loud that I can't hear myself, I sound just like her. She just smiled and responded with "I bet you do", solidifying that she will never feel threatened that I might take her job.

So, at just the perfect time this week, we were taken back to a happier night, with lots of love and good memories surrounding us. It was a nice reminder that there was a Tiffany and a Josh before there were expectant parents, and they were happy then. We're trying to keep them in mind as we move through the season.

Enjoy the audio journey back to our fairytale evening:
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XBvlNZ1xIvs

Writer's Block

A lot of things are swimming around in my head as an interesting way to break the news we finally got tonight. Unfortunately, none of them are making any sense as I try to formulate coherent thoughts into intriguing analogies.

Our prospective birth mother decided to parent her little boy today.

We are fully prepared for small people to join our family. We have every color of onesie washed and ready. We know which bigger car we'll buy. We know how we'll handle daycare, extended leave and trips to the pediatrician. Diapers and bottles are at the ready, the plants are watered, the house is clean. And, we are prepared to name them.

Again, all for nothing.

What's The Latest? Has She Changed Her Mind? Is the Baby Still Breech?

We know, it's Monday. We all made some assumptions that we never heard anything after A's doctor appointment on Friday because the agency was taking some time off over the weekend. We were sure we'd hear something today, right? Wrong.

Trust us, we feel ya. We'll ask again that you remember that any emotion you are feeling about this is magnified in us. If you're curious about how things are going, then we're living in anguish, dying to know. If you're scared that this is going to fall through, then we're terrified. If you feel out of the loop, then we're stranded at sea with no connection to the world. If you are wondering how the conversations are going between the agency and the prospective birth mother, then we're ready to drive up there and eavesdrop ourselves. And if you're still hopeful, then it is surely our most vivid dream, one we wish for each moment of every day and night. Trust us, we know how you're feeling.

You're not getting any new information on these posts because we're not getting any information at all.

Please continue to wait with us. We've managed to convince ourselves of a number of plausible scenarios about why we haven't heard anything since she cancelled our meeting. We can only imagine that she needs our support right now. We need your support right now as well. Please keep up the good vibes. It helps to feel your virtual hugs every day. With love, TaJ

All We Ask

There are a couple of life lessons that become learned over time when experiencing the wait for children to find their way into your home, through adoption or otherwise. One of them is that you never know someone's story, so don't judge too quickly when the clerk is snappy, the jerk cuts you off on the road, or even a good friend has been withdrawn. I suppose this one is learned by many people who have experienced anything significant in life and struggles sometimes with others not being engulfed in their own personal drama at the same moment.

The other lesson is for those of you with children, or any loved ones or even pets really, but we're focused on kids of late. It is simply to be grateful for those kiddos in your life and I'm directing it at you whether you're young or old and have babies or grown children. I'm sure some of you have tuned out now, chalking this up as one of my emotionally-charged rants about gratitude and finding the positives in life. But, it's more than that.

As people who have struggled to conceive and then maybe even waited for a child through adoption can tell you, it seems like everyone on the planet is having kids just by blinking at each other. Everywhere we look, someone is pregnant or toting toddlers around, and oftentimes complaining. (Admittedly, I don't get the same emotional tug when I see snotty teenagers talking back to their parents, but I'm sure I'll become more accustomed to that in time, sigh). Anyways, the point is that not everyone has trouble adding kids to their lives and you have to remember how lucky you are to be living in the land of giggles, and even midnight feedings.

I struggled with how to share this sentiment today. It's not meant to be a pity party. I'm not feeling sorry for us. Actually, I'm feeling lucky right now. This isn't meant to focus on the families waiting to multiply, it's meant for you to focus on your own. And, it's a happy post.

You should know that some people are out there struggling to get and stay pregnant. Some people have been waiting for years to adopt. Some have lost their kids after decades of memories formed with them. I think those are easy stories to forget in the busy-ness of life with kids. You could easily spend a day, or a week, or a month without recognizing that you are kissing a treasured gift goodnight each evening. You might not be able to feel the gratitude in the din of the screaming.

All we ask is that you take a dedicated five minutes today (yes, that can feel like a long time), by yourself, and reflect on the miracle that you have in your family. It's worth it for us to know that all of you with kids realize the multitude of biological complexities that have to go right for you to end up with that bundle of joy to love at the end of the journey. Don't take it for granted. If you find yourself bubbling up with gratitude, go ahead and without a reason at all, hug your kids, or your dogs, or your chickens, if you're so lucky to have them.

Back to Busy

Well, meeting or no meeting, we didn't get any news today. Hopefully, "A" got to the doctor and received some magic remedy for the final-weeks-yuckies. We sincerely hope she finds some peace in her heart, relief in her belly and a comfortable way to sleep! With little else to do but wait, I dug down deep into that nesting urge and carried on.

Before we went to California, we finished what we set out to paint in the nursery. We never shared a final shot of the room and to avoid you thinking we stopped short of finishing that tree, here's where things stand now, with Josh's giraffe, evidence of the elephant that is just outside of the 2nd story window and a family tree with room to sprout new photos soon. We're just flat outta time to add the cheetah and monkeys. (Clicking the photos will enlarge them).

 

 

I've read a little about nesting lately as I feel the urge to prepare for our baby once again. Now, organizing piles and tidying things up is nothing new for me. In fact, some of you might question how I can identify the specific urge to "nest" as different from what I wake up wanting to do every day. When I read about this phenomenon on-line, wouldn't you know, it's attributed to pregnant women in the final stages of pregnancy, oh and a bunch of other animals in the kingdom when they're expecting too (hence the term "nesting").

Well, I have news for the many researchers out there trying to draw a physiological correlation between the need to clean and the hormones of pregnancy. For me, it seems it applies just as true for those of us simply preparing the nest without the hormonal changes and midnight cravings. (Don't get me wrong, I've been known to need cookies at all hours of the night, but I've never been lucky enough to have an excuse to blame it on.)

Suffice it to say that I do feel a need to get everything just right so that the little tyke can mess it all up, both figuratively and literally. It seems I have an innate sense (and a lot of good, experienced friends telling me) that life as we know it is about to change. Maybe in an attempt to gain some control over the threatening situation, we try to put it all in proper order so that the chaos has an organized place from which to begin. In my own experience, I'd say that the lack of a belly to rub or an oddball food to crave, leaves me feeling even more impatient and drives a subconscious need to keep busy.

Enter loving friends with LOTS to share. Fitting all of the generous donations to prepare for our little girl into our cubby of a home was challenge enough. Now, we're accepting the blue versions of everything and it's all adding up quickly. I spent the evening labeling easily over 100 pieces of the tiniest clothing we've ever seen, then washed and folded them (I know, I know, this is just the beginning). Whew, good thing I needed something to do. Yes, it would be nice to just catch up on sleep as is suggested by everyone, but it seems I'm sharing the insomnia part of this phase with my pregnant friends too. Enjoy the long posts by midnight!

'Tis the Season...

...the rest of that line in the song remains to be seen tonight.

I was supposed to leave for Thailand tomorrow. When we made those reservations, we knew that we were foregoing any tree shopping, decorating and Winter Solstice celebrations, at least in any typical TaJ fashion. While Thailand would've been a holiday season to remember, I was a little down in the mouth about missing the festivities at home. So, when our plans changed last week, I was happy to get back to settling into the spirit of the season.

Tonight, we got our tree. I have the ornaments laid out all over the floor awaiting their special place on the lit branches. Each one holds a treasured memory for us and each Christmas season seems to start with the unwrapping of the ornaments as if they themselves were the gifts to be celebrated.

Last year, we received a beautiful set of 12 wooden ornaments intricately carved out like snowflakes. I was laying them out, trying to figure out how to display them in a fun way and then it hit me. For the first Christmas in six years, my daydream about having a little one to cuddle under the tree was finally going to come true! I went ahead and let a few tears of joyous relief squeeze out. Then, the BND rang.

It turns out tomorrow's meeting isn't going to happen. A is feeling really physically ill and canceled our introduction. In fact, the words used were "we need to reschedule the meeting", but by the end of the call, nothing was rescheduled. We've been encouraged not to start thinking the worst, but this is like a bad recurring dream.

Apparently, she also broke down earlier this week when it came time to actually sign relinquishment papers. Consider the weight of her decision becoming very real all of a sudden as she read the legalese describing what would happen next and you can put yourself in her uncertain shoes. Still, she signed, so there's hope.

We are compassionate people, so we can appreciate the unease. It must be the hardest decision to make in a prospective birth mother's life, deciding to place her baby in the care of someone else. Also, I have too many close friends who I've nursed through the final weeks of pregnancy not to have a picture of how uncomfortable it all becomes at the end. We can certainly appreciate that her position is one that needs a lot of support right now.

Then, there's us. I don't know how we would take news like this if we hadn't endured our CA saga. Maybe we should know that these ups and downs are expected. Unfortunately, we don't have the luxury of imagining this in a more positive light because, in fact, CA did happen. It has left us resigned with the notion that if this is going to happen, it will happen, whether or not we hope and dream about it, or whether or not we worry ourselves to sleep about it.

All we could do tonight was hug, cry some fearful tears (yes, all that water moving around in my eyes for opposite reasons in the same night, told ya it would be a roller coaster) and then get back to the business of celebrating our lives together with our annual unveiling of the tree ornaments to the sound of Harry Connick Jr. singing carols (yummy! - sorry guys).

If that little boy wants to join us for the season, this is what will greet him when we carry him through the front door (trust us, it's 8' of beauty with the lights off and the twinkling happening). We're still hopeful that he'll join us soon. We're asking again for your prayers, good vibes and love beams tonight. Peace.

Click on the photo and you might find my favorites:
Christmas giraffe, Christmas chicken, Santa riding a sun, a golden Christmas fish,
a plush Christmas gecko, and Josh's beautiful commemorative ornament
for our Solstice Baby last year.

Still Just a Party of Two

It is common knowledge that there are mixed emotions about being a December baby. Sharing your birthday month with the hub bub of the holiday season can sometimes lead the birthday boy or girl to feel a little less celebrated (yay for half birthdays!). Our little guy faced the risk of sharing his big day with both the generally accepted date of baby Jesus' birthday and his daddy's birthday today!

We have not heard anything more about any doctors appointments this week, though we're confident that there was one. More importantly, we haven't been called to rush to the hospital yet. So, we're assuming that December 5th will go down as Daddy Schnabel's birthday alone.

We celebrated Josh tonight as a party of two by going to a grown up restaurant and some live jazz music afterwards. We don't anticipate wanting to fit this in over the coming months, so we made the most of the evening out.

Before we found out about this match, I was determined to lift us out of the funky air we were soaking in and rekindle our spirit of adventure. I received a groupon one day urging me to go ahead and make a big plan without waiting to see if we would have a baby or not by the expiration date of the deal. I went ahead and bought it for Josh's birthday gift. Now, we have to find a way to fit in a half day ice climbing session before mid-March!

I'm not sure that's going to happen, but at least we have the spirit of adventure well-embedded in our souls. We'll find a new normal when it comes to exciting outings, but they'll likely involve a third wheel for a while. We've been dreaming about the smiles, screams, snores and sillies that will certainly accompany any big excursion with our little boy. We can't wait to begin our next adventure as a party of three!

Full Term!

 



At least officially, our little guy is considered full term this week. This means that if he came out now, everything in his tiny body would likely be developed enough to handle life in this crazy world, with a little TLC from us, of course. He might be about 19" long and weigh around 6 lb, 5 oz, adding an ounce a day until he comes out. That makes him about the size of a bunch of swiss chard!

 

When we learned about him last week, we were told that he's not doing one important step in these final weeks, which is getting into position for his big debut. He has flipped between being breech and having his head down (hmm, maybe a future acrobat?). As he nears his due date in a couple of weeks, we're hoping he'll just be a good boy and get in position. If he won't, it will be a long and potentially surgical process for A to get him out, and we want this to be as easy as possible for her. So, turn baby turn is what I find myself humming sometimes to the tune of Disco Inferno by the Trammps. (Just for fun...click here).

 

At this point, it's hard for us to not know much about how he's doing in there. We are grateful that she goes to her doctors appointments and that we have some encouraging information about how they're monitoring her development into the home stretch. We're looking forward to learning a lot more on Friday when we get to meet her in person.

 

I guess it's the beginning of an era when we'll beg him more often than not to "JUST SIT STILL!"

Right Feels So Much Better Than Wrong

I've allowed myself to analyze why we're a little more nervous with this match than we were the first time. Sure, I think everyone would agree that it's to be expected. The reality is that we were burned and now we're more cautious with our hearts, but still really, really hopeful and excited at the same time.

When we suffered our miscarriage last year, we were really angry that the experience would rob us of our chance to just be joyful when the opportunity came up again. We felt we would always be scared that the same thing would happen the next time. When we were matched earlier this year, we were elated to realize that our 2011 loss had not made it impossible to find joy in the hope again. We were unequivocally excited about welcoming a new baby into our home and hearts. Now, I realize that this ability to see the difference in the two types of risk seems to be what made that renewed hope possible.

This time around, the risk is more similar to our fake match earlier this year than our loss last year. When we find ourselves in similar emotional situations as we were in back in August and September, that's when the hope falters in its attempt to beat out the fear.

Just like in July, we had a potluck with our adoption group scheduled for the weekend after we found out about our match. Just like in July, we felt nervous about sharing the news with the other waiting couples in our group and prayed that they knew how much we are hoping and waiting with them as well, even as we begin our journey with a new birth mother. Not like in July, Sunday we had the new sensation of sharing exciting news with a little hint of reservation dulling the glimmer in our eyes. Don't get me wrong, we're definitely hopeful, but man that trip to California really stung.

I know you all waited with us while we were in Fresno for some positive news that S was going to her appointments and getting legal paperwork done. We felt that you shared in our disappointment at every report that she had failed to make the date again. Well, I have good news for you to soak in with us!

Feeling a little uncertain about how committed I was becoming to Baby Boy Schnabel, I checked in with the agency on the way home from the potluck yesterday. The response was that she can't wait to meet us this Friday and she has completed the legal documentation. Wow, something going as expected, that's different. And man, does it feel great!

Tonight, we bought what we hope will be his cozy, leaving-the-hospital outfit. When I told the 8 month pregnant woman behind the counter that we were having a boy too, but we had her beat by about a month, her eyes literally went directly to my stomach. I explained that we were adopting. Wadling around in her 8th month, she just melted and exclaimed how jealous she was of me right now. I wished her good luck as we walked out of the store. We could all use it!

Putting the Old Garden to Bed



I've been gardening now for four years. My first garden was in the summer after we moved into our home. There was already a 4' x 9' space blocked out of the lawn by the previous owner for a small garden. As is typical, I wanted to go big and make all of that side of the yard garden space, but Josh had the good sense to encourage me to see how I like this gardening stuff first. It was a great recommendation. By the end of that September, there was no more lawn to be seen and in its place were eight raised beds, filled and prepped for the following spring.

What I like about my hobby in the garden is that it's the one place where I am most flexible and forgiving with myself. I tend to dive into most things I'm excited about with 100% determination and try to get it right the first time. But with gardening, I have the calming approach of "we'll just see how it goes and change what didn't work this year in next year's attempt." I do love it.

One thing I've learned in my brief foray into gardening so far is that I become very busy in spring. There's a lot of work to be done on the weekends when the weather warms and the sprouts begin to shoot up. As a California transplant who did not move here for the winter weather, I begin to thaw out in spring, but generally don't get the urge to spend all day in chilly March rubbing my hands together to keep warm between shovel dips to turn the soil. However, wait too long to get the garden going in spring and I would miss getting a head start on some of those early crops. So, I've learned from others to prep the garden in fall. I dig it under, mix in our chicken poop, cover the beds with the chopped leaves that we rake up from the giant silver oaks in the front and tuck it in for the season.

This fall was particularly challenging. I didn't want to step foot outside for a few nice weekends in a row because I was still so sad when we returned from California. I knew the weather could turn at any time, but I didn't care. Finally, I saw my way through the gloom and donned my gardening gloves last weekend.

Last Sunday was the first day of pulling out the now crispy dried plants leftover from summertime. This had great significance to me as it meant that the clouds were lifting in my heart and I was beginning to find my passions again. As I looked out on the yard at the end of the day and saw the plants I had nurtured through the hope of that first match with a fake birth mother turned into compost for next year's attempt, I was filled with a strong sense of closure. I couldn't make any headway into preparing the garden for next year without first pulling out this year's. Now that those dead plants were gone, there was room for new growth.

The timing of my rejuvination proved to be very prescient. We had known our profile book was being shown for a few weeks, but in my life of multiple meanings, we did not get matched until after I was able to pull out last year's garden, and all that it represented, as I worked in it last weekend.

As I wait anxiously for time to pass so we can meet A in person next Friday, one of the most salient parts of the metaphor is that when I do pull those plants out, they are not discarded. All of that dried up foliage and those thick stems are clipped to 3" sections of material and mixed into the compost pile. Next year, that pile will be the soil that fills the beds for the subsequent garden. Nothing is lost, just repurposed. This summer's events in our attempt to adopt have done their part to mold the people we are. Nothing was lost from that experience, but it feeds the hope that we have now and the dreams we continue to foster.