A Cleansing Rain

We saw a postcard in a gift shop the other day that read:

Putting the Whole

Hideous Thing

Behind Me

by Blogging

About It

It made us laugh, but in the same jaded, angry way we've laughed for years now. We decided not to pick it up.

This journey has made some undesirable characters out of us. We go to work, we meet with friends, we love our loved ones. However, the anger bubbles just beneath the surface and rears its head in ugly ways every once in a while. A few weeks ago, we both had finally had enough. There comes a time in every adventure when the element of excitement turns to something sad, or worse. With us, that often means turning the car around or boarding the plane home because vacation is over. In this case, it meant that we had become people we didn't like anymore. Anxious, cynical, cheated people who weren't able to see the beauty around us because we were crowded by the mess of buffoonery too close in view. It was time to put an end to it.

We realize that we've been quiet lately. It's been over a month since our last post and it was a long time before that since you heard from us. Just know that there hasn't been anything we were comfortable sharing. It's been a time of making hard decisions and we needed to make that an insular process. Not all caterpillars are ugly and not all butterflies are beautiful, so it can't be said that it's always a progression for the better, but you get the idea. We've come out of our little cocoon and are beginning to spread our wings again, tentatively.

Some people have the tenacity to wait through multiple failed baby placements, or even years of silence for their special bundle to arrive through adoption. On the other hand, we know people who would never even consider adoption to grow their family. Everyone has to know their limits. Even if we didn't know what those limits were when we started down this path, we've reached ours. After three failed matches, two of them criminal, and four babies that we were told to welcome into our hearts because they were "ours," but they turned out not to be, Josh appropriately declared that no one ever gets to hold our major life decisions in the palm of their hand again (as long as we're conscious). And, I agreed.

Right about the time that a majority of our state was under water, our spirits needed that cleansing rain. We soaked it up. We used it to deliver us a new perspective and a renewed interest in the little things around us. Our favorite summer concert venue was completely lost to the floods here a few weeks ago and the owner simply said that he was "power washing the facility." That was the perspective we needed to absorb. What could result from the torrential soak we've endured are cleaner, fresher versions of us. But not if we didn't first make the move to wash away the layers of stagnant muck.

For those of you who like the details, here is how it went with the adoption agency. Just weeks after we made the decision to search for our sanity again and put an end to this pursuit, we got a message from them. It turns out that they aren't working with any birth mothers and they are sending all families on a search for a new agency to work with to grow their family. We had already been in talks with another agency for about five months. We had already received the application packet and our hearts sank at the thought of diving in again and starting over. We had already made the decision not to put ourselves through that. When we heard from the agency with which we were working, we felt some comfort in having an emotional head start on this next round of surprising twists along our gnarled path. We weren't surprised at their closing and we were already clear on what our next steps were before they dealt the latest blow to our dreams.

Maybe the butterfly was an optimistic image to put in your minds. We're certainly not fluttering around weightless just yet. We might be more like that 100-year-old tortoise at the zoo. The one that mostly sits and watches what is going on around her, sticking her head out to see if anything new and interesting might be happening and quickly retracting when she senses danger or annoyances. Yes, we're cautious right now. But, we are sure of our decision and that's refreshing after years of questioning what's next. We have finally shed a few pounds of doubt that hovered over us for too long.

Thank you for your support for the past 22 months through reading these posts about our roller coaster. We don't know what the future holds, but we're sure it will be an improvement over parts of the past. We've committed to making one hard decision at a time, and nothing else. You know, living in the moment...

Eventually, you might notice that spring in our step again. For now, we're just getting our springy shoes on. With summer coming to a close, and a greenhouse to build, we're going to focus on growing our farm-ily instead of our family.

Intruding on Hippos

As you might have guessed, we've been pretty busy lately. We've managed to be away every weekend for multiple weeks in a row on camping trips to the mountains nearby. The weeknights have been consumed by music practice, babysitting, rescuing the garden from squirrels and cleaning up after or packing for the next weekend. The weekdays have both of us neck deep in big projects at work, with more piled on before we can complete the task at hand.

Some complicated family dynamics, a lot of stress and not enough time in the day for life to do its thing have made for some rough waters along our stretch of the creek. With emotions so high, life-changing decisions get made and then rethought a day later. Then, we're back where we started. Not a lot of what we're going through is fit for the blog, but I thought of a way to sum it up for you.

Lately, I feel like I'm standing too close to a hippo guarding his stretch of beach:

http://youtu.be/hy8nDb5nCak?t=10s

Parenting Books

Despite the claims of exasperated parents everywhere that there are no books telling them how to raise a child, there are in fact hundreds (maybe thousands) of titles on bookstore shelves claiming to lead these parents to the happiest, healthiest, hippest kid on the planet. There are books about sleeping, feeding, clothing, loving, disciplining, educating and so much more. There really is no excuse for not knowing what you're doing these days.

Except that books can't train you for your baby. Thank goodness we're not all wired the same way. It's a relief to know that human beings still maintain some shred of individualism and can throw curve balls at the "experts" who think they have it all figured out. Unfortunately, these experts succeed in selling millions of copies to desperate parents trying to get their baby to stop crying, sleep through the night, eat more variety or just generally be super cute and easy to care for. Once the neurotic parent has read these how-to manuals and inevitably fails at the execution of steps 1, 2 and 3, the guilt of not doing it "right" sets in. The happiest, healthiest, hippest kids I know are cared for by parents feeling their way along the murkiness of parenthood and doing what feels right for their family, not the latest trends in baby care.

In contrast to my general advice (because I'm an expert too, just an uninformed one) to just take it as it comes and do what feels best for you at the time, in this case we do have a book recommendation for parents everywhere. It's a parenting book that will make your most embarrassing, frustrating or feeling-incompetent stories about how you're parenting absolutely okay. Our only disclaimer is that the language is foul. Be ready to wince at some of the expressions within.

We read the book to each other last weekend and both of us shared moments of laughter and tears. It's well-written and, again from an uninformed perspective, describes what we're sure we'll experience someday. We can already relate to some of the scary moments in the story. However, mostly we were in stitches at the way seemingly benign trips to the grocery store or the playground are described. It crosses generations and we're sure most of you will get a kick out of it, young or old, kids or kid free.

Check it out at your local library and enjoy a few days of a funny tale. It will make all of your parenting decisions seem brilliant and it will also pierce your heart with the unconditional love of parenthood.

P.S. After you've read this and you assume that we're planning to parent with four letter words, please know that we've also recently acquired this:

Don't worry, kindness will always prevail in this house....but foul-mouthed sarcasm gets a nod every so often.

Dear All of Us

Sometimes the craziness of life can leave you feeling like you're gasping for air in the deep end of the pool. It's hard to remember that everything, and I mean all of it, is temporary. We don't have enough fingers to count the things that are unresolved and challenging in our lives right now. For me, the physical reaction is a tightness high in my chest that I try to take deep breaths to diffuse. We're just left with throwing our hands up and knowing that regardless of our stress levels life will continue on, however it is going to - on its own time, along its own twisty path. In the midst of this dizzying chaos, I found this plaque in a shop the other day and it resonated with me. So now, we own it and I try to read it multiple times daily as I catch my breath and wait for what's next. I'm passing it along in case you too are trying to stay afloat these days.

 

We were excited to learn that our neighborhood started a new Farmers Market last night (or rather, Farmer's Market, since there was only one farmer). We checked it out and it was a little dreamlike inside when we felt how happy and peaceful the place was while nestled along one of the busy thoroughfares through town in rush hour traffic. It was packed with our neighbors and a lot of hopeful feelings for a new traditional food truck dinner on Wednesdays in the 'hood. There were, of course, kids everywhere. The loved it. We just hoped it will last enough seasons that our own will get to enjoy it as well on these perfect summer evenings.

 

The live musician at the market sparked something in my house band's soul and when we came home and I stepped inside, this is what I found in our back yard minutes later.

 

 

There is goodness in the summertime. Easy livin' and peaceful evenings are for the taking. Summertimes' oppressive heat can force you to relax, without getting all of the chores done or coming to terms with everything that the air-conditioned day shot at you like a fire hose. Sometimes, you just have to stop and soak it in.

 

After our calming stroll through the neighborhood market, we even got a response from the agency on my standard three questions about the status of their work with potential birth mothers. They are working with women now who are due in the next couple of months. None of them are ready to look at profile books yet and, despite the urging of future grandparents to rush that part of the process, we appreciate the care it takes to make sure these women really want to make an adoption plan for their baby before showing them eager families waiting to adopt. It's a process that takes time to make sure it goes well. It is just very reassuring when we get hints that there is actually a process happening.

 

The irony in the lyrics and tone of this song rings true for me right now. Enjoy this as you sip on your summertime drink of choice tonight and remember us over here treading water, but livin' easy this summer, all at the same time.

 

http://youtu.be/LDF4_qVgbFU?t=1m30s



Average

Summer is in full swing. That means our days and evenings are packed with fun things going on outside. Our good friend asked me last week "How often do you two not have plans in the evenings after work?" The answer is rarely. At around the same time, another good friend sent us this article. Do yourself a favor and take the time to read through it. It's long, but important.

In the context of that article, I suppose our claims of being busy all the time could sound like boastfulness. The truth is that sometimes those busy plans consist of pulling a few weeds and sitting on the back deck, drinking wine and talking about how lucky we are to the sound of the bubbling water fall we created in our own little urban oasis. Sometimes I'll say no to any plan being made so that there's time for a weekly laugh with a good friend in CA, or sometimes I'm blocking out time for yoga so that I can maintain some semblance of patience with my life and the people in it. Once a week, Josh is "too busy" to do anything else because he's playing music with his band. We dedicate time to just being grateful for what we have and for enjoying it to the fullest during the seasons that allow us to be outside in it.

Today marks the nineteenth month that we've been working with our agency with the hope of growing our family. Eighteen months is often quoted as the "average" wait time for an adopting family to be placed with a baby. We met the newest member of our adoption group last week, the second baby placed with a couple in our circle of waiting parents. After hearing their story, it is again evident that no two journeys follow the same path. After our own three failed matches with what were touted as "our" babies, we know that there is nothing average about The Wait. With only two of the seven families in our group placed with their babies in the past 18 months, it seems even the average time it takes to Wait has been extended beyond the norm for us.

I'm sorry to report that we have no information from our agency about any planned placements any time soon. And so, we remain "too busy" with fulfilling activities during The Wait. We volunteer, exercise, grow food, play music and love our friends, family and ourselves. Nothing distracts us from the knowledge that we're Waiting. Not even a packed schedule could help us avoid that incessant truth. But, we don't stay busy to brag and avoid life, we stay busy to soak in everything life has to offer us in this present moment. And, there's a lot on the table if you're open to it. We're also open to the notion that at the end of our journey, we'll either be here:

 

or here:

 

Stay tuned to find out!

Thank you from the bottom of our busy, but full, hearts for your continued support.

Third Time's a....Double Play?

If only we weren't on the wrong team. In baseball, a double play is when a team gets two consecutive outs in the same play action. In the world of adoption, our third at bat resulted in the hope, and loss, of an adorable sibling pair.

When we returned from one of our recent travels, we had a message waiting for us. Our uncle always shares with people that we're planning to adopt hoping that someone he knows will know someone who knows someone who is pregnant and is interested in meeting us. He received word from a friend that there was a woman who was due soon and that she was planning to place the baby for adoption.

The woman didn't want to talk with us directly yet, but her friend did. Unfortunately, we don't speak the same language, so a good friend was our mouthpiece as we tried to figure out if this was a real, promising conclusion to our Wait. For the past week or so, our friend has been communicating on our behalf with the friend of the birth mother.

Surprisingly, the friend mentioned that she had the birth mother's older child in her care as well and was interested in placing both children with us so that the kids could stay together. We had a lot to think about. We had recently decided that "one is enough," after years of hoping for "as many as possible," mixed in with a healthy dose of "two would even things out a bit" and finally settling on "whatever happens, happens." We shared that we would consider the situation when there was a baby born and the birth mother wanted to place him with us.

Along the way, some of those familiar red flags began to surface. The most glaring, blinking, screaming, SMACK YOU ON THE HEAD sign for us was the mention of money in exchange for this baby. Apparently, there was another family who was supposedly willing to pay for this baby and if we wanted to pay more, then she'd consider us. (Are you throwing up yet?)

Our friend did a superb job of explaining that once our agency was involved, we would discuss what medical and legal expenses would be covered through the legal process of adoption. The birth mother didn't like that. She didn't want to work through an agency. (Are you running scared yet?)

Today, we received pictures of a healthy newborn baby boy. We also received pictures of his older sister, who turned one today as well, sort of like those twins I've always wanted. And, we were told again that there was another couple and that they were writing a personal check to have the baby placed in their care in two days. Unluckily, we've already been engaged with the type of people who would consider selling their babies to the highest bidder. We are finished with the conversation at this point. Nothing more to say. We didn't sit suckered in a hotel room for 6 weeks this time, but our hopes were dashed again, for the third time out. Still, no money was lost in our pursuit of a larger family. (Are you breathing a sigh of relief now?)

We have been quiet lately because we wanted to see where this third venture into match-dom was going to take us. We're glad to have spared you the back and forth this time. We're not happy to be in this boat again and are left wondering what it is about us that attracts such twisted characters.

Supposedly we're still in the game to grow our family. If you can stomach it, stick with us. We're still hitting foul balls into the upper deck like Roy Thomas and the game is dragging on and on and on...but we're not out yet.

Update?

Nope, no update. I love hearing from those of you who are following along that you're getting impatient for some thoughts about our Wait. Thank you for your continued support. I know we've been quiet lately. We were traveling quite a bit and have a home and garden with which to reacquaint ourselves. We were also in the throes of some old property disputes with the has-to-be-clinically-insane woman who lives too close to us for comfort.

We took a quick trip to Washington DC and are focused on channeling the patience, wisdom and diplomacy of some of our nation's past great leaders. There's a reason they have stone memorials built in their honor, showered with their eloquent quotations. We're still trying to embody these virtues as we navigate the challenges in front of us.

On the very exciting up-side, another couple in our group was placed with their, you guessed it, baby boy last week! He's adorable (again, we have picture proof) and it sounds like their home is filled with the joy and sleeplessness of which the families in our group dream. Any activity at all in our group is welcome news. Four other couples in our group and two others who had adopted previously through our agency are still with us in this Wait. As far as we know, the agency isn't opening up another group at this time, so think at least seven good thoughts for all of us.

In the midst of some thick personal hope right now, I find myself reading the following poem often. Our poetry friend sent it to me during poetry month. I share it with you now to get us all on the hope train together. There are potentially excited days ahead...

Sometimes

 

Sometimes things don't go, after all,

from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel

faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,

sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

 

A people sometimes will step back from war;

elect an honest man; decide they care

enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.

Some men become what they were born for.

 

Sometimes our best efforts do not go

amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.

The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow

that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

 

~ Sheenagh Pugh

Our Continuing Spiritual Journey

We've been a little out of touch with you all. We escaped for over a week and headed to the southern part of our state and the northern part of our neighboring state, New Mexico, for a road trip to camp in the Colorado Plateau region. We explored the significant sites of the Ancestral Puebloans at Mesa Verde, Aztec and Chaco Canyon. We spent days observing the archaeological and Native American versions of the life and times of these people from 600 AD to 1300 AD. We learned a lot about the continuing thread connecting cultures from our past to present day. It gave us something to think about as we look ahead. What kind of mark do we want to leave?

The road was long, pensive, peaceful (except when it was time to break into song), and sometimes desolate. Always there were our imaginations, active and packed with daydreams of hundreds-of-years-old campfires under that same blanket of desert stars (we saw Saturn's rings through a telescope at Chaco Canyon!).  We developed a new appreciation for the landscape that looks to go on forever, seemingly lifeless, dusty and sparse, but packed with wildflowers and countless species coming out of their winter spells and into the summer sun (we rode our bikes alongside two trotting mule deer who were very curious about our being in their desert meadows).

There are a number of stories from our trip that would warrant a post all on their own. Take for example, our feat of driving while hanging on to our bike rack through the sunroof because it had broken, dangling our bikes over the side of our car. Only gravity (and our brute strength) was keeping it and our bikes attached to the roof as we snaked through the gusty desert.

Only 60 miles to the next REI to get a new bike rack,
hold on tight!

Or, the ecstasy of flavors we encountered eating our way through Santa Fe for a day. Um, can we say sea salt caramel sauce on some local beef and a flight of sherry for dessert? We could also go on and on about the farm country nestled between Colorado's snow-capped peaks that led us through the agricultural valleys into the natural wonder of Great Sand Dunes National Park.

Tiny dots in the dead center of this picture are people
climbing the tallest dune, 750 feet!

However, we agreed that one day truly captured the heart of what we wanted to share with you, the essence of our spiritual journey through these wonderful landscapes of eons past. As we reentered southern Colorado, we were introduced to the scenery winding into Pagosa Springs. We intended to soak for a while in the natural hot springs located in the heart of town. Some suspect that hundreds of years ago members of different Native American tribes would visit the springs from miles around, meet and put aside their differences while basking in the healing warm waters.

We spent 11 (eleven!) hours soaking in water ranging from 95 to 105 degrees Fahrenheit. We had access to 18 pools and people from all over were popping in and out of the tiny tubs to try out each one. It was a day of introductions, connections and wisdom exchanged. We shared time with people as far away as Germany and as local as a Southern Ute woman from the next town over. Maybe it was just that we were soaking in the heat, but the stories exchanged touched our hearts and opened up our souls to the experiences of those around us and to their connection to our own journey.

One woman in particular is now referred to as another sage in our story towards growing our family; we'll call her Chama. She asked "You have a daughter, right?" We responded that we didn't, but that we were hoping to adopt a baby sometime soon to grow our family. She shared a conversation that she had just had with her daughter, who was expressing that she might not want to have children as she grows older. Chama told her daughter that there were "many ways to parent children" - or in a clearer context, that the prescripted parent/child roles are not the only way to share love, knowledge and companionship with children.

This struck both of us as more meaningful than the overused message that "It Takes a Village to Raise a Child." It was a message of openness, compassion, understanding and interconnectedness. It also allowed a peaceful acceptance that even if our current plans don't come to be, we have many important ways to contribute to the lives of the children around us.

One of the park rangers we met taught us that there are roughly 150 billion stars in each of 150 billion different galaxies. With a fuzzy awareness of the magnitude of this statement, our sense of our own personal significance shrank considerably. We think we understand how small we all are in the grand scheme of things. The most important aspect of this path we're on is being kind to each other, including "parenting" all of the children in our lives in the most appropriate way we know how, with love and acceptance. In the big picture, we don't have time here to worry about much of anything else. It was a freeing perspective.

We decided that the people we met in the hot springs were connecting and exchanging messages of kindness, as had been done there for hundreds of years in the past. Our job was to carry the message forward and make sure that the way we live our lives here for this brief period reflects the impact that this shared experience had on us. I wish you some big picture thinking tonight. Try to zoom out a few billion light years and decide if your current troubles should continue to worry you. Our time here is brief, and should be spent smiling.

Handling Loss

One of the life lessons I hope to be able to teach our child is how to grieve. At this point, I can only hope to teach them because I am not sure that I have learned how best to grieve yet. I do know that it is important to do or the pain will bite us later when we least expect it. But, knowing just how best to grieve is a skill I am unfortunate enough to keep learning to perfect.

So many different losses can teach us how to grieve. The obvious ones are losing a loved one, being wronged by someone important to you, or thinking you had a cookie left, but realizing you do not. Okay, so I grieve through levity sometimes. What can I say? I did say I am still learning.

One loss that can sit like a lump in your throat and leave you wondering what level of grief is appropriate is the loss of someone once important to you with whom you had fallen out of touch. Memories of that person flood in and seem so current and relevant when you hear that they have passed away. As you discover the details of the life they went on living after you parted ways, you cannot help but relate to those who love them now and were likely the most present thing in their mind as they passed. You realize that while they did not occupy the same presence in your everyday life that they once did, they have had a profound effect on you in some way. You grieve the loss of that potential relationship, even if it was effectively put on pause years ago.

This week, I am grieving the loss of a former coworker and friend from the first few years after we moved to Colorado. Her interest in my resume is why we are currently living here and her hiring me contributed to the path we are currently living. It is hard to separate memories of her from our early days in our new home, new careers, new lives. Although our connection had grown distant in the past few years, she came up now and again and I was always pleased to learn of her happiness in her new life, full of adventure and a devoted love with her partner.

Her death was sudden, tragic and much too soon. In these cases, I always struggle with accepting this new reality. I never can stomach any contemplated reason for the loss. For her love, who was planning to propose the day she died, and her community, who lost their daughter, sibling and friend on Mother's Day, I offer this as a gentle reminder that she will always be with them.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn's rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift, uplifting rush

of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there. I did not die.

~  Mary Elizabeth Frye

One of the most important aspects I take from each loss, and probably the number one lesson I have to pass on to our as yet unknown baby, is to cherish what I have with me in the living. It sounds trite, but life really is fragile and can be unexpectedly taken from us at any time. Until you have lived that reality, it is near impossible to believe. Once you have lived through that reality, you do not take anyone for granted..for a while at least. It is painful to realize you needed another reminder to hold your loved ones close, but the reminders are also so important in order to keep us present and aware of the love and beauty that surrounds us.

Tonight, I wish you peace and gratitude.

Keep the Red Maple in Your Sights

This journey affects more people than just the two of us. I have written before about how the hope, excitement and disappointment along our path so far has been shared by our family, friends and coworkers and we are so grateful to you for your support of us and for your endurance in your own experience with this Wait. We know most of you reading this blog are just as wrapped up in the agony of The Wait as you can possibly stand. We understand that along this path optimism ebbs and flows with despair like a tiny bird riding the wake of a ship in the stormy sea. There is no way to control if you are going to float up for a while, or plummet downward to await the next rise in spirit. We are all just along for the ride.

Although we know in our hearts that you are all here with us, we try to use this blog to communicate our share of the experience with you, rather than make it the subject of every family gathering, every dinner out with friends, every work event, every walk down the street. This is our outlet. This is how you get a glimpse into how we are doing without having to ask and worry about being the one who brought it up and reminded us that we are waiting, as if we could ever forget.

Because of your sensitivities to our emotions, we do not always hear about your share of the experience. Your thoughtfulness in not focusing on the hard part of this journey can sometimes leave us wondering if anyone remembers that we are waiting at all. We do not know that it wanders into your mind as frequently as it does when every one around you seems to know someone who is waiting to adopt, or is welcoming a new grandchild, or is hosting another baby shower for a friend. The subject pops up unexpectedly and can leave you feeling powerful with hope, like if you just wish for it hard enough, it will come to be. We may not always know you are sharing in this, but we feel the power of that hope and openness too. Sometimes, it feels like we can make this dream come true with collective focus.

As I wrote earlier this week, there are periods during The Wait when signs about adoption abound. In response to that post, I received a few notes from friends who had been quiet for a while that they were still out there, praying for us and keeping all digits crossed. As the week has continued, there have been more signals that we are currently open to the universe's plan for us. That leaves me in an optimistic mood as the week winds down.

Decades ago, our Texas mom served a friend in need on the night of her son's birth. She walked the hospital halls with the woman while labor ensued and held her hand through the toughest parts. That memory has always left this friend with a hope of being able to repay our mom for her kindness on that night and through the years. This family friend now works for an organization which helps mothers in crisis who have no support for their pregnancy. Her work is to help these women decide either to parent their baby or develop an adoption plan, rather than choose abortion. She just learned about our plans to adopt through a discussion with our mom. Knowing our family, and a bit about us personally, she is ecstatic that we are hoping to adopt and is eager to get our profile in front of the women they are serving.

When I shared this story with our Colorado mom, I learned that our local parents have been busy this week as well trying to think of ways to bring their grand baby to us all. Our Colorado dad planted a red maple tree in the meadow behind their house to serve as a visual reminder that we are all waiting for this baby to find us and that someday he/she will arrive. As the tree grows, so will our love for our baby to come.


It has been eye opening for me to hear the stories of our journey staying so present, so relevant, in all of your lives. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for your persistence in hope. Although you feel like there is nothing you can do to make this happen for us, all you need to do is stick around a while longer, stay open to our story's development and we will all have something to celebrate soon. It means the world to have you on our side.

http://youtu.be/uYsBDmqJfjQ?t=2m50s

Week of Signs

Some weeks come and go with very little thought about our journey to adopt. Really, they do. They're an accumulation of days just living in the moment, noticing the change in seasons, engaging in fun conversations with friends out on the town, or just making a meal and enjoying music together on the back patio. Sure, thoughts of how things might be different someday with a little person demanding our attention do come up, but they are put aside effortlessly.

Some weeks are all-consumed by our own impatience with the situation. Every trip to the store, commute to work,  or evening tooth brushing session reminds us in some way that we are still a family of two (+ chickens). Those are excruciating to endure. Luckily by now, I have enough experience in The Wait to know that time will pass and we will again get back to effortlessly living in the now.

As much fun as the first type of passed time is for me, I have to say that my favorite periods of The Wait are those in which we're not the ones bringing up our plan, but other signs creep in to keep it in the forefront of our minds. These weeks of signs plant fleeting thoughts that this is really going to happen for us. During these times, we're living in the now, and the now includes positive reminders that we're going to be placed with a baby someday.

When visiting with our friends last weekend, we learned that another couple they know were just matched with a birth mother and will be picking up their baby today! We don't know these people, but I can certainly relate to, and share in, their joy. Later that afternoon, a story on the radio highlighted a woman who was placing her baby with her sister to adopt. Yesterday, one of the other waiting moms in our group emailed me to say that she was checking in because she just felt there was some activity with birth mothers working with our agency and she had a feeling someone would be getting a call soon.

Sometimes, it just seems the subject of adoption is all around us whether we want to focus on it or not. These little tales and dreams of adoption working out attach themselves to our story so far and begin to paint a different, more hopeful and imminently promising picture.

Tonight, my Colorado mom and I have tickets to see Lori Lavender Luz speak as part of the Listen to Your Mother series. Lori has written a book and blogs about open adoption. Also in the audience will be a friend of a friend who I've never met in person. She and her husband also adopted and she provided tremendous support to us during our California "vacation" last summer (start with this post and go backwards if you would like to catch up). It feels fitting to finally get to put a face to the friendly emails we've received from her during this week of signs.

We certainly have no way of knowing if this week's signs will amount to anything. They haven't in our past. However, emotions during the experience of The Wait are important to recognize. Living in the moment with reminders popping up every now and then about what might be creates an optimism that is absent sometimes. When it's present, all things seem possible.

Reflections of a Wish List on May Day

Another anniversary has come to pass. One year ago today, we met with the agency to complete the process of training, paperwork and background checks. The last step was to answer pages of questions that amounted to our "wish list" about the baby we wanted to welcome home.

It's funny how time and experience change a person's perspective. Before that meeting, we tried to anticipate the questions. We discussed things like how comfortable we would be with drug exposure in the womb, how much the mother drank or smoked while she was pregnant, what level of financial support we could provide her, and the ethnicity of the baby.

In the meeting, each of those questions was broken down into as many categories as there are types of cereal in a U.S. grocery store. We were not prepared for the degree to which our preferences could be dissected. We spent the long drive home rethinking our responses and emailed updates to the agency a few days later, then again a few months after that, continuing to question our thoughts and feelings on different topics. It carried the weight of an anvil bearing down on us. With every "yes" or "no", we felt that we were directing the fate of who would find us. What amazing life experience were we eliminating with a "no" to a potential illness in the baby's background? If we said "yes" to certain characteristics, was it a guarantee that our baby would have them?

Now that the recent year has passed, we know some of those answers might still set up the plot of our tale, but we also know that our story will not be written by the responses to questions about our preferences, but by something completely out of our control. Answering those questions in a particular way does not dictate who walks through the agency's door. When a woman brings her own unique story to our agency, there are always decisions to make about our comfort levels on various topics, all while the potential placement of a baby is staring us in the face. Making these decisions while wrapped up in the emotionally charged hope of being matched can be nearly impossible, but it remains important to consider things carefully. After all, it isn't wise to quit your job after buying a lottery ticket. You need all of your numbers to match the ones pulled in the drawing to achieve success. At this point, the only remaining wish on our list is for a speedy, successful placement.

I recently learned about one May Day tradition from two good friends. They both grew up placing a May Basket of treats and flowers on the porches of their friends' houses, knocked on the door and ran. Hmm, could it be that we'll receive a very special May Day Basket of surprising news today, one year after our Wait officially began? Of course it could.

---

P.S. On another note...Yes, it is snowing here, AGAIN, four supposedly springtime weeks in a row. Whether it is a beautiful snow globe storm or not, we're ready for the flowers to bloom. It seems there is very little that gets more stale (see various posts about The Wait) than the persistence of winter when the flowering buds are forming anxiously on the trees, trying to break through to brighten things a bit.

We Made It! (I think)

There is no snow on the forecast for the coming month and shortly after that we'll be in the thick of summer. We should be in the clear to break out the short sleeves and get to work (and play!) outside. It's time for things to start popping up and coming to life now, and the garden knows it. The tulips that are left are fighting for their last chance to shine before pouting in dormancy for the year, cheated out of their show in April. The lilacs look like they might just bloom after all and fill our sense of smell with the pleasant childhood memories of grandma's house. Peas, kale, lettuce, chamomile and hops are all poking through the soil and will leaf out in no time with the bright sunshine calling them upward. I really think we made it through the weekly onslaught of frozen moisture until next winter. Whew!

There were little glimmers of activity sprouting through the dense cover of the adoption process this week as well. All of the families working with our agency got an urgent message to let the agency know if we were interested in being a foster family for a newborn baby. We don't know much about that baby, but we know that it wasn't meant to be our story.

We also learned that the agency has plans to show prospective birth mother(s?) our book, along with all the other waiting families, at some point soon. We don't know when someone will be looking through the personal details of our lives. We don't know who that person will be or who they are hoping to find to parent their baby. We don't even know if they are planning to create an adoption plan for their baby just yet. Remember though, if no one is looking at profile books through our agency, then it's unlikely anyone is planning to call us. A little is worth a lot sometimes. We'll call them "baby" steps.

These little signs of life along our journey are important for the active mind, waiting. Although it is often used as a synonym for "obsess", I was reminded of another one of the definitions of the word "dwell" this week: to exist in a given place or state. In that way, being told that I'm dwelling on this process isn't such a bad thing. I am in fact existing in The Wait. The trigger to devote some thought to this was a quote from one of my dads:

"To dwell is to garden."

~ Martin Heidegger

With that in mind, it stands to reason that I've used gardening in springtime as such a prominent metaphor for my dwelling in this state of continual waiting. And, I resemble that remark. If my dwelling is the process of creating some beautiful dream I've been sowing for the past few years, then I can't wait to harvest the fruits of our labor. I happily accept that my thoughts and dreams about our family to be are merely preparing the bed, setting out seeds and giving love and care under the bright sun. And speaking of the literal garden...

"In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt."

~ Margaret Atwood

Let that be your inspiration to get outside and create something lovely this weekend!

We're (even more) Ready

What would you do if a loved one fell unconscious and stopped breathing during your next celebratory family gathering? What if it was a stranger? What if it was your own baby?!

Based on personal experience, I can say with 100% certainty that I have no way of knowing what I would do, but we both felt that we needed proper training to at least give ourselves a chance at being helpful. We've written about the hours of training we went through last year to prepare ourselves for welcoming home a baby through adoption. Before we knew what that training would include, we imagined it would have something to do with emergency preparedness, but it didn't.

Among the multitude of questions we experienced during the start of the adoption process, we often asked ourselves why birth parents who parent their kids don't have to go through any mandatory training to be trusted with the life of another human being in their care. At a minimum, everyone should know what to do as an appropriate first response in the worst potential situations regardless of how their kids joined their family. Maybe all of the training is just to keep excited, adopting parents busy during The Wait. If that's the case, I see your hours of training and raise you additional classes to keep busy.

We went through almost 40 hours of adoption-related training last year that included what to do in a lot of uncomfortable situations. We left each class feeling one step closer to a slightly larger family and to being able to use appropriate tools to work through the challenges of adoption. Emotionally, we were spent, but excited to put this new-found knowledge to use.

As part of a personal commitment to be prepared in any and all ways for what's to come, last weekend, we were trained in adult, child and infant CPR/First Aid. When it was all over, we walked home quietly. Emotionally, we were spent, but began praying that we will never have to put our new-found knowledge to use.

I assure you, you have no idea how you'll act in the worst of emergencies. But I can also say with certainty that if you don't know what to do, you can't act at all. Check out available classes near you now: http://www.redcross.org/take-a-class

More Talk About the Weather

I know, I know you've heard me going on and on about the garden for over a year now. You've followed along as I liken my adventures in our yard to our enduring wait to grow our family. I just can't help it. The joys, setbacks, unexpected twists and surprising beauty parallel what we feel with The Wait. I had no intention of sharing anything with you today. But then I got this quote in an email from my favorite nursery (plant nursery, that is). I couldn't help but continue the metaphor. The last line just spoke to me.

"Mother Nature is not really a 'mom,' but more like Cinderella's stepmother.

Conniving, mischievous, misleading, and when you think you have April weather,

she slaps you in the fanny with that of February.

Working in the garden under her domain,

she giggles with child-like giddy at slowing you down.

Then, of course, there's Father Time. Don't get me started on him."

And so, thanks to Father Time and his cohort Mother Nature, the tulips and the lilacs and the seedlings under the heat lamp wait for bright, smiley sunshine. And so do we.



This is today, after Monday's 12 inch accumulation melted.
The tulips bloomed under the tarp, and more snow is falling again.

Guilty Pleasures in a Perfect Snowstorm

As a gardener dying for that first hint of spring, those bright tulip colors popping up in an otherwise forgotten landscape, the sign of shadows changing shape as sunshine changes course, you'd think I'd be miserable. We've been waiting for winter weather, well, all winter. Now, for the past two weeks as spring peeks through the dormant foliage everywhere, winter has decided it's not done yet.

Tulip bulbs were literally just blushing their true colors when last week's blizzard hit. We hurriedly got them all covered up with garden plastic to weather the storm. Towards the end of the week, we uncovered them, watched them come back to life and stretch upwards again. This time of year, the sun shines down on the yard in ways that resemble spotlights, highlighting sections of our outside space that have been hiding in the dark for a few months, reminding us how beautiful it all will be again in a few more. We spent the weekend in the garden, weeding, whistling, and sowing new plants to nourish us later in the season.

Today, however, winter is back. I just re-covered all of the now blooming tulips, draped sheets over the tender lilac buds which were fooled into popping out early and battened down the hatches on the chicken coop. By this afternoon, we're at about five inches of snow and counting.

If you ask any of our local friends, we're all "cranky" at the continuing onslaught, "over it", "ready for spring already!" We all know we need the moisture. We all just wish it would come in the form of spring rain, instead of the continual weight of snow, oppressing all things bright, cheery, hopeful and green.

With the peer pressure of every one's disillusioned sentiments towards old man winter, it's hard, but necessary, to hide the smile inside as I shovel the sidewalks...again. When I moved here, I thought snow was snow was snow. I've since learned that there are different types of storms and to be sure, some I do not like at all.

However, there are those perfect snow storms. The stuff of snow globes, winter paintings, holiday carols, and the simple, quiet beauty of Japanese wood block snow scenes. The flakes just keep falling in a thick blanket, straight down to the ground. The sheet of white blurs the views outside our windows and coats the world in soft, fluffy chills.


Koitsu-Spring Snow at Maruyama park

As a family, we've been tested a lot. By now, I've spent months of my life trying to see the positive in situations that seem anything but. It could be that I've just brainwashed myself into that mindset, but I don't think so. I still believe it's important to remember, even when you're being dealt a blow (and my beloved spring flowers are suffering right now, I assure you), that there is something to be grateful for in it all. And with that, there is hope that there's good to come.

I'm grateful that neither of us had to drive in this storm. I'm grateful for the moisture that is sure to quench our garden's burgeoning thirst and help out our drought-laden state this summer. And, I'm grateful for the fact that despite the damage already done to this year's springtime display, I'm finding some peace and beauty in this storm. For those of you not "suffering" through this storm with us, let me tell ya, she's a knockout. Just don't tell anyone I said that.  As I watch my plants fall victim to this deluge, I have a reputation as a devoted gardener to protect.

National Poetry Month

Thanks to a good friend, we are made aware of National Poetry Month every year. Each April, he beckons us to join him in committing random acts of poetry and with it, kindness. I wanted to share the following in support of fellow adoptive families who are waiting for The Call and with our family and friends who wonder what sorts of daydreams go through our minds as we ourselves wait. Occasionally, The Wait is frustrating. Sometimes, it is peaceful. Mostly, it's full of blind hope and tireless love for someone we cannot even imagine yet. Always, it's too long.

 

Thoughts Along The Wait

 

Today you've never heard our name,

Tomorrow you will share it.

Today you've never seen our faces,

Tomorrow they will smile on you through tears of joy.

Today you've never known the warmth and security of our home,

Tomorrow it, and all we have, will be yours.

Today you don't yet know our love,

Tomorrow it will envelop you.

For we will be a family, forever.

There is an old joke about people being treated like mushrooms - being kept in the dark and fed manure. While mushrooms are still flourishing in the dark and isolated environments of remote forest floors, they are actually fed something more like the decomposed quality of compost: old and recycled.

Many of you have asked how the scheduled monthly calls with our agency are going, so we wanted to share what they're about. Our latest call with the agency was last night and it was a pleasant and brief check-in on our emotions, but uninformative with regards to progress along our path to parenthood.

For a number of reasons, situational and genetic, we are more comfortable with information than without it as we stumble along on this adventure. We find it easier to manage our attitudes during The Wait when we learn how many women the agency is working with, when they are due to deliver and what they ultimately decide to do, place the baby for adoption or parent. (Of course, the surprise, same-day placement is more than welcome as well, but that doesn't seem to be the norm.) However, somewhere between December and March, our agency made a decision that they are no longer willing to share this coveted information.

On behalf of our sanity, and all of you who ask about "the latest", we shared our disappointment with this approach. We inquired about why they feel that sharing no information is a better way to support waiting families and were told that they don't want to repeat the disappointments of December (ours was not the only match in December who changed her mind and decided to parent her baby). Disappointing though it was, however, it was our disappointment to bear and we still hope for information to help us manage our expectations during The Wait.

Unfortunately, the decision seems to have been made to keep us in the dark for now. It's a good thing we like the peace found on the bottom of a forest floor, though the taste of recycled advice to be patient is less appealing sometimes. It doesn't feel like any light will be shed on us just yet.

What a Difference a Day Makes

At this time yesterday, I was writing a very different blog post. I felt all frenzied inside. I was neurotically staying busy with work, checking emails, looking out the window, opening and closing the fridge, walking up and down the stairs to do laundry, just generally moving. The post included a video of 1000 cuckoo clocks going off at different times around the world. That is what my mind was feeling, just cuckoo.

"The Scream" by Edvard Munch

Finally, I had the sense to reach out for a little support. Josh met me at a favorite restaurant for some cheap eats and loving smiles at happy hour, our placement supervisor with the agency wrote me a list of phrases to meditate on, I walked through the neighborhood in the shadow of a beautiful sunset complete with neon clouds and enjoyed an hour and a half on the mat in the peaceful environment of our local yoga studio. It all happened at just the right moment for me to be open to a change in mood and I walked home grounded in my soul, feeling happy and grateful for the village it took to calm my busy mind.

It doesn't take the uncertainty of the adoption process to plummet people into the emotions I was feeling. Sometimes those incessantly annoying busy thoughts just won't go away. I know you can all relate. Books and courses and therapy and drinks and love have been poured into reminding us about how to keep our mind, body and soul at peace. I can offer the admission that when you're in the thick of it, it seems that none of those tools will do the trick. It took a small, persistent and peaceful army to snap me out of it last night. The crazies will be back, of that I'm sure. However, for now, I'm feeling a lot less like the image above and a lot more like this:


Just look at all those happy, bright rays of hope coming out of me!

Family Values

A year ago, we were just finishing up our group training in preparation for the kids coming into our lives. Detailed accounts of those sessions were recorded in earlier posts, but lately we have drawn upon the lessons from those excited weekends for some confirmation of what we will focus on as we grow together into a family of 3+ (plus? - plus chickens!).

After being taught some of the key things to keep in mind while we're attempting to guide our kids through life in the real world, we were tasked with developing a statement about what our family will stand for, a set of core values, a mission statement. This creates a place from where all of our decisions and actions can take root. If we guide our lives with our basic core family values, then our actions will demonstrate our beliefs. So, the challenge was to figure out what we want our actions to say about what we value as a family.

This was no easy task. I'm never good at selecting a favorite anything. The password hints I choose for on-line services are never the "favorite film" or "favorite book" options. I am just incapable of narrowing down the full list of what I've enjoyed in life to one succinct answer. I am always anxious that I'll leave something out that actually had as profound of an impact on me as the one I listed.

When asked what specific values we will turn to as we endeavor to guide a child through this crazy world, the list was long, and growing. I mean, isn't it the goal to get all things positive and genuine into their little hearts, minds and souls and then somehow teach them to deal with all the negative stuff in the best way possible? Right, so what are the best ways possible? Or, what will be our way? The tricky part is not to rewrite the thesaurus in an effort to make sure you didn't leave out any important attribute you want to instill. Here's where we stopped (not that it's complete or anything):

Our family values love, support, patience, kindness, trust, communication and humor.

We invite friends and family into our home as a place to feel comfort, peace and laughter.

We believe in giving to others.

We respect and nurture the planet and all of its inhabitants.

We seek a diversity of new experiences in order to continue learning.

 

Even as I look at it now, I see things I want to change. But, we hope they'll get the picture and learn to be good to others and themselves. For our part, we will try to continue to absorb these statements into our beings and embody them as we muck through reality. After all, we are reminded daily that patience might be one of our values, but it's not one we've mastered yet.

A go ka

Moto ga ka. Ma hin suuru Musa. “The truck will come. Be patient, Musa.”

How many times had I heard that while waiting at that barren crossroads? After an exhausting 6-mile morning hike through deep sand up the narrow donkey path from my village, by the time I arrived at the way station (a simple, solitary hut on the desert hardpan), the sun would already be dominating the sky over the scorched Sahelian landscape. The searing heat of the day, while imminent, had not yet begun to oppress, but a sense of approaching heat was already in the air. I had to get to the river market before I melted into my usual apathetic lump of shade and water-seeking irritability for the rest of the afternoon.
Through the woven grass walls of the shanty hut, I heard the intermittent shooshing sound of a calm wind blowing through the straw reeds. But everything else was silent. Standing there in the vast Nigerien shrub and sandscape, I noticed the faint scent of smoke from acacia wood.

That roadway could not have felt more abandoned. The dirt I stood on was packed hard by months of absolute zero precipitation. Beyond what my starved perception craved, there was nothing coming along the road. Not yet anyway. In the stillness, there was no sign of movement: no oxcart, bicycle, camel or donkey--much less any motorized vehicle--within what seemed like a hundred miles of the place. Despite the sinking feeling I had in my chest, I gazed hopefully into the distance.
Several village men sat on their 50kg sacks of millet. They waited with me in the languid atmosphere.  
Watifo moto ga ka? “When is the bush taxi coming?” I asked.

A ga ka sohon. “It will come now.”

Sohon sohon? “Do you mean ‘now’ now?”

Oho. ...Sohon. “Yes. ...Now”

“Now” is such a relative term. It could mean literally now, approximately around now or, quite often, several hours or almost a day from now.

It would still be many months before I would learn to sit down under the shade of that thatched roof, still my impatience and rest my expectations. For now I waited as a tense and restless westerner, standing in my sturdy new Tevas, holding my unscratched Nalgene and full bottle of sunscreen. I even imagined that I could hear the distant hum of the truck motor.

Wa 'Allah i, moto ga ka. Ni ma hin suuru.  “I swear it will come. Have patience.” Those words were lost on me. I had somewhere else I needed to be and simply could not wait.

The experience of just waiting... and waiting... in the parched desert with seemingly nothing to do but perhaps sit until you turned to dust and blew away, was sheer insanity.
I had yet to learn that the wait itself was secondary to the real experience of just “being” there. After all, there was still plenty to do while I waited. Perhaps I could share some hard-learned Zarma conversational phrases over a two-hour tea session. Himadou just bought a new goat for Eid, and Hadissa is getting ready to plant her peanut crop! There is so much happening back in the village! We could spend all day just brewing and sipping tea and discussing these riveting topics. Then we could take a nap on our bags of millet seed, swatting at flies, sweating and wasting the afternoon away until the truck finally came.
I strained to look further, expecting at any moment to see that dented vintage Mercedes Grand Camion spouting its black plume of exhaust and sending a rooster-tail of dust behind it as it growled and scurried over the barren hardpan, hauling it’s daily load of dried fish, gum arabic, cows, chickens, old and young men, women, children—all piled into the flatbed or hanging from the sides of the steel roll bars.

Sure it’ll come. ...any minute now.

It did eventually come. And when it rolled to a stop, the line of live chickens tied upside down at the edges of the truck swayed back and forth in unison. The driver’s apprentice leaped from the top of the human pile he was standing on, and the commotion began: millet sacks were thrown into the back while I bargained for a place in the front cabin. While standing next to the tailpipe and inhaling the mix of crude diesel and cheap cigarette, I communicated in my most well-rehearsed Zarma amid the sound of infants wailing, hens clucking, goats bleating and people chattering.

The next moment I was on my way... finally. How exciting! The front cabin was already full, as it invariably always was, so I hoisted myself onto the rickety tailgate to join the circus. Standing precariously with my hands clinging to the steel frame as the wind whipped at my face and clothes, I conversed with the old El Haji’s in my broken Zarma, pretending the entire time not to notice the huge craters in the road or the alarming tilt of the vehicle as it made its lunatic turns through the scrub and brushlands on the way to the river.

**************

With every passing day on this long journey, we wait. We know our ride will come. And when it does, it will be exciting. For now, we’ll just sit along this quiet roadway, drink more tea, talk about our goats and chickens and go a little crazy. But I know it will come... someday.

A ga ka sohon, wala?

Oho may. Sohon sohon.

Maybe it’s just my imagination, but I think I can even hear that motor humming in the distance right now.

Ugh, make no mistake about it. Impatience during this wait is all-consuming at times. However, be it noted that we haven't taken to acting like our friend Veruca Salt:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRTkCHE1sS4

...at least not externally.

Botanists say that trees need the powerful March winds to flex their trunks and main branches, so the sap is drawn up to nourish the budding leaves.

 

Perhaps we need the gales of life in the same way, though we dislike enduring them.

 

- Jane Truax

Get Rest While You Can

Happy spring everyone! Today is the spring equinox, the first day of spring, when plants grow and spirits soar as we shed the cool temperatures of winter and thaw out for some fun in the sun! Okay, so we're expecting multiple inches of snow on Friday. Today, we start to trend towards warmth and regrowth.

Since we started waiting for a baby to find us, we've gotten consistent advice from new parents to sleep while we can, get all the rest we can store up, and be prepared for sleepless nights. But there sure is a lot to think about when you're expecting a new person to enter your lives. In reality, if any of those new parents remember the phase of being pregnant, or waiting for their delivery, they might acknowledge that it's hard to simply "get rest" on demand.

We've extended our days by countless hours with the lights and technologies of our time. It's not just in the U.S. that we stay up later, ignoring the obvious hints from the sun to wind down. At work I review electricity development projects all over the world which have the sole intention of extending the daylight so that students can study into the evening or to improve safety in the darkness of their remote town.

However, one thing we loved about living in rural Niger was the way our bodies became accustomed to functioning after dark. We could see in the dusk by letting our eyes adjust to the shadows of the evening and, as the sun set, the sounds in the village were calming when life began to wind down. If you've ever been camping in the back country of our forested mountains, you know the feeling of the waning day. Contrast this with the sounds and sights of your late night news programs or prime time television dramas.

These days, it's go! go! go! until the split second when we shut off the light. It isn't transitional, but abrupt. It's hard for a mind like mine to just shut off like a light switch. I have been known to lie in bed and continue to process the day aloud as a way to slowly arrive at sleepiness. I think Josh's bedtime stories are a means for him to quiet me down and get my brain to slowly settle into stillness.

In the morning, it all starts again with the sound of the alarm clock. In our case, our alarm clock is a recorded rooster followed by the Muslim prayer call to remind us of waking up slowly with our neighbors in Niger. But, it still startles us awake from a shortened deep sleep rather than letting us ease into the day. Lights come on, showers start, and we hit the floor running, albeit groggily.

Inspired by multiple friends who periodically follow a "cleansing diet" or attend spiritual retreats and by our own constant feeling of dragging ourselves through the days with eyes half-open, we dreamed up a new tradition in our home and we're calling it ELO Week - Equinox Lights Out. Since Saturday, and until next Saturday, we're living from sun up to sun down without turning on the lights. We have been able to wake up slowly as the sun creeps in and we go to bed when it sets, spending a few additional minutes recapping the day and falling asleep by about 8:00 pm.

Unfortunately, we can't store it up and we're likely to go back to a later bed time when this is over. But for now, we feel refreshed and rested. It would be a great time to be placed with our children and, from this restful place, begin the slow decline to evening naps between feedings. We're now ready to be up all night!

Sure, we picked the easiest time to try this out. After all, we can't get all of our work done in the shortest days of winter and we might end up with even fewer sleep hours if we tried it in the height of summer. But there are other reasons to focus on rejuvenating our bodies and souls at this time of year. Here's a nice description of the significance that springtime holds for some:

Spring Equinox Blessings to you!

A Spring Kiss by Moonrabbit

After the winter solstice the days have lengthened and the nights shortened and here in the northern hemisphere the spring equinox marks the end of winter and the beginning of spring. Light and dark are in balance now, but light is gaining.

The earth awakens... new life emerges, sap rises, buds shoot and spring flowers are celebrated as gifts from nature. Spring returns and rejuvenates our own life force.

Spring is a time of the Earth's renewal, a rousing of nature after the cold sleep of winter, a time to celebrate the renewal and rebirth of Nature herself, and the coming lushness of summer.

At this time we think of renewing ourselves. We renew our thoughts, our dreams, and our aspirations. We think of renewing our relationships. This is an excellent time of year to begin anything new or to completely revitalize something. This is also an excellent month for prosperity rituals or rituals that have anything to do with growth. It is an ideal time to clean your home to welcome the new season. Spring cleaning is more than physical work. Some cultures see it as a concentrated effort on their part to rid themselves of problems and negativity of the past months and prepare themselves for new things.

This equinox is also known as Ostara or Eostre - and is celebrated as a festival of new growth, renewal, a re-balancing of energies and the return of longer days. It is also known as the day of equilibrium. Now is a good time to consider the balance of our lives - work, play and relationships.

It is now time to lay the seeds of new projects and new directions that you have meditated on throughout the cold months. Now is the time to start taking action. Decorate your home with spring flowers and sprouting greens. Begin a new project. Key actions to keep in mind during this time in the Wheel of the Year include openings and new beginnings. Start working towards physically manifesting your plans now.

Yep, that all sounds like as good a reason as any to hit the reset button on our overly active minds and bodies and take a break before beginning the fun times of spring and summer outside. Or, we're just lazy and wanted a lofty-sounding excuse to sleep more.

Three to Eighteen in a Day

I had the privilege of watching our neighbors on Wednesday, ages two and almost four. It was just for an hour after they were in day care all day and mom and dad weren't off work yet. The three-year-old explained to me that we were going to plant something because her mom told her that I am "a wonderful planter." Armed with two cups, some potting soil, grass seed and garden shovels, we went to work.

Now, since I'm in the thick of starting seedlings, I had it in my head that we were going to fill the cups with soil and plant grass in them so the kiddos could watch the grass grow in the coming weeks. Silly Tiffany. It turned out that the goal of the afternoon was to dig up a patch of daddy's lawn (which I've watched him tend to lovingly for the past few years), pour an abundance of seeds all over our hole and then fill it with water to jump in. The cups were to transport rocks from the patio to also fill the hole. The potting soil seems to have been intended as an exfoliating substance for our hands after immersing them in the puddle. It was an education.

Time was up and I came home to Josh, leaving their mom to get them cleaned up for dinner. Aren't I nice? I sat down at our dining table and stared out the window at our own back yard. I just couldn't find a patch that I would want dug up by our own kiddos. Thoughts of a boring, restricted life for our poor children flooded my mind as I considered the pros and cons of undoing the past four years of work creating our little backyard oasis. Then it dawned on us, a sand box! We have one spot left in our yard that could be enclosed by relocating our back fence. Yay! Problem solved! We would be good parents after all! (I am aware that they will want to play everywhere except the sandbox. They make locking gates for that. - just kidding.)

Thursday night we attended an event sponsored by the alumni association of my alma mater. It was to welcome newly accepted students and their parents to the university and to try to convince those who were still undecided to accept the invitation to attend. I was filled with the sense of pride and nerves in the room. The parents were mostly trying to figure out how to fund their child's impending educational expenses, but were beaming as they discussed their kids' success at getting accepted. The high school students were wondering about dorm life, what classes they should take to succeed and if it was really that cool to go to university in a town minutes from the beach and the mountains (duh).

Lately we've been so focused on what the first few years of our adventures into parenthood will look like that Thursday's event was an interesting take on a few steps down the road. Who knows if our kids will want to go to college, but at least we have seen that there is a time, later in life, after the midnight feedings, unending music lessons, arguments about appropriate attire and the beginnings of dating when they will begin to make their own decisions and it looks very exciting. There's a lot of work to be done between now and then, but we are hopeful to be sitting in an acceptance reception someday, shooting proud glances at our kids and watching them squirm with embarrassment as we brag about them to strangers.

Tiredly Hopeful, Hopefully Tired

What a beautiful early spring day! It snowed all day Saturday, and then that melted on Sunday. Last night the snow fell again, but it's supposed to be 62 degrees and sunny tomorrow. You gotta love Colorado weather. It's as ever-changing as the mood of adoptive parents enduring The Wait!

A month or so ago, our agency reached out to those of us waiting to be matched, placed, and kept up all night with a kiddo and asked how they could best support us through this period of no news. We all responded with differing ideas and they settled on quarterly meetings at the agency and monthly calls to check in with each of the 8 couples individually. Our first monthly call was last night. We were open and honest with them and were able to share that we're just plain tired of this wait. Sure our moods change, but lately it's just getting old. Admittedly, it does feel good to be wavering between hopeful and impatient rather than hopeful and angry, but it is still tiresome to be waiting.

On some level, we know you can all relate to this most simple, stripped down experience of the entire adoption process. Remember waiting for the response from a job interview you know you nailed, or for your boarding group to be called to get on a plane bound for a fun vacation? I know you've at least experienced watching the clock until the end of the work day when you're headed away for the weekend. Time never passes so slowly as when you're excited about the beginning of something wonderful and life-changing. There's no way around it. Waiting is boring and aggravating and makes you feel like a whiny 3 year old inside who just wants what you want now, darn it, flailing fists, stomping feet and all.

Spring is the time of year when it seems that all things are possible with a little effort. Before long we'll be basking in a fully grown garden, reaping the benefits of what we've sown in the storms of late winter. As snow melts, we look around and start to identify the next yard project, or trail to hike, or outdoor event to attend. It's definitely a time to live with intention and purpose to make our dreams come true!

But inside, we just wait. We spend a little time lying on the floor in the nursery, gazing up at the stars on the ceiling and get lost in our meditation to the sounds of owls hooting in a windy forest (courtesy of Josh's interpretation of the need for white noise in a baby's room). We want to be able to make something happen, but in the case of The Wait, there's nothing we can do. Our responsibility in this part of the process is to be patient.

Oh to be virtuous! http://youtu.be/vXNBH7S8YqY

Distraction is sometimes more of an effective tactic than just twiddling thumbs. The best distracting thought we gained from our call with the agency last night was that they are working with more birth mothers. None of them are ready to look at profile books of waiting parents yet, but they are at least seeking support through a difficult time in their lives. If they've walked through the agency's door, there's more of a chance that they are considering an adoption plan than if they hadn't. So, I'll focus on these prospective birth mothers and hope that they have found a peaceful place where they can make the best decision for themselves and their babies, whatever that may be.

Peace and patience hover around the outskirts of our psyche right now since we are still very hopeful that we're very tired soon.