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.