Traveling..

Today I am flying to California to see my family. My WHOLE family. Except for baby girl.. She has to stay on this coast. My flight was delayed 15 minutes, so I took the extra time to wander the terminal a bit, knowing I would be sitting for six hours.  I'm not worried about the time.  Jetblue tends to arrive earlier than scheduled, and I know my husband will be waiting for me.

I went to use the rest room as a preemptive measure (who really likes making all your row mates get up just so you can piddle?) and as I entered, there was a lovely woman sitting on the floor by the sink, crying.  A woman who was wearing her own baby in a carrier was taking to the woman on the floor, who was pumping (to keep up her milk supply).

One Thousand

With my head perched on the sill of my bedroom window, I hear birds in neighboring trees through my wire-grid screen.  When I focus closely, every part of the world fits into neat little boxes.  Everything lines up with the coarse wire lines keeping the bugs out.  But when I fix my eyes far away, the lines become blurred; faint outlines of the little pixels that make up the picture of the larger world.

Lightning strikes. I count the seconds until I hear the thunder. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand.  I count to eleven. The storm is not far off.  This weather is oppressive and, even without my chest cold, I find breathing wearisome.  Won't the storm come? Won't the clouds release their torrents and rid me of this weight on my chest, this weight on my mind.

One one thousand, two one thousand. Three. Four...  Seven.  It is getting closer.

Today is six months.  Six months ago today a little girl was born and named after my husband and me.

Mourning

The other day, I read a post by a recently-delivered mama of twins.  [Please read it, it's wonderful!]  While her boys are mostly healthy, they were born a bit premature, and so they had to spend some time in the NICU, which is always hard for parents.  And not less so "just" because their babies aren't severely sick.

Her experience with her twin boys really resonated with me.  In my struggle with infertility, and now with a lengthy and drawn-out and unpredictable adoption experience, I feel a growing sense of loss.

The Loss of ultrasound appointments and announcing "We're pregnant!"  Informing the grandparents that they are, for the first time or once again, grand.  Missing those baby-kicks inside me, or the first tell-tale signs of labor: this is it--we will see our baby soon.  The Loss of experiencing those first precious days of our baby's life with her.  Seeing her first smile.  Sleepless nights, and early morning snuggles with a swaddled, cuddly newborn babe.  Even sore nipples from that unique breastfeeding relationship.  All these things I am missing.

News

Not of the baby variety, unfortunately, but (in a way) of the "dependent" variety.

I've officially opened my Etsy shop.  *cue dramatic music*

That is, there are things in it.  Two things.  Two mei tai carriers that a friend ordered.  So even though you can't buy them, they're in the shop, and I think that counts for something.

...

wordless

Enough

**apologies if you are reading this for a second time--blogger hiccuped sometime last week and deleted a few of my posts, so I'm re-posting them now**

I am in limbo. Hovering, or perhaps falling, in an empty space I didn't even know existed in the realm of "becoming mother." This "loving a baby who may or may not come home with me" is a wholly new experience for me; nothing like what I expected; nothing like I had heard from other parents, adoptive or biological; nothing at all like what I had hoped and prayed for.

The Lord is certainly teaching me patience. Or, at least, He continues to try to teach me patience. I don't think I'm a very good student, unfortunately. I seem to be asking the same question over and over, a la Derek Zoolander.

Maybe I'm just not hearing the answer.

Maybe the answer is Silence.

Some Sewing...

Oh dear, I haven't been nearly as good at keeping up on my sewing lately as I should.  And I haven't even been good about sharing the things I have done with you.  But I can share a few pictures (at long last--processing and uploading is slow for me too. Hmm..), with links to my inspiration, if you are interested :)

So, to begin.

Christ is Risen!

Indeed He is risen!!

St. John Chrysostom's Paschal Homily

If anyone is devout and a lover of God, let them enjoy this beautiful and radiant festival.  If anyone is a grateful servant, let them, rejoicing, enter into the joy of his Lord.  If anyone has wearied themselves in fasting, let them now receive recompense.  If anyone has labored from the first hour, let them today receive the just reward.  If anyone has come at the third hour, with thanksgiving let them feast.  If anyone has arrived at the sixth hour, let them have no misgivings; for they shall suffer no loss.  If anyone has delayed until the ninth hour, let them draw near without hesitation.  If anyone has arrived even at the eleventh hour, let them not fear on account of tardiness.

For the Master is gracious and receives the last even as the first; He gives rest to him that comes at the eleventh hour, just as to him who has labored from the first.  He has mercy upon the last and cares for the first; to the one He gives, and to the other He is gracious.  He both honors the work and praises the intention.  Enter all of you, therefore, into the joy of our Lord, and, whether first or last, receive your reward.

Small Update..

Yesterday evening, much to my dismay, I found out from our agency worker that Monday is not quite the auspicious court date she thought it would be.

Instead of being the day when a judge hears the case as presented, it is, rather, the day when the agency's lawyer goes to the courthouse to check on the case, to see if the birth father has filed anything contesting the adoption.  Somehow based on how that check goes, the actual hearing will be scheduled sometime within two weeks of Monday.

I don't know what will happen if the birth father hasn't filed anything, if the hearing will take place sooner or not.  I don't know when, within the next two weeks, the hearing might be.  And I don't know if this affects any sort of schedule for us (hopefully!) bringing the Babe home.

So to all of those who have so wonderfully kept us in your thoughts and prayers, do keep it up!  We are in need of them especially this week, as we wait for more information.

God grant me patience...

Labor

I am overflowing.  With excitement, anticipation, joy, anxiety, adrenaline.  Sometimes tears.  My body simply cannot contain the emotion that I am feeling.

I sometimes have to sit by myself--door closed at the office or in front of our icons at home, quietly breathing "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God.  Have mercy on me... a sinner."  Over and over again, just to get my heart rate back down to normal.  Just to quiet my soul and feel the presence of God's Love.  I know He is here with me.  I know He has a plan and will give me strength to accept it.  But I have to remind myself of that sometimes... sometimes when the my heart feels like it will burst at what it is experiencing.

To think that in one week, we could welcome into our home, for good, Our Little Girl.  To imagine going to sleep with her at night and waking up with her in the morning, content to be lying in bed with us, gazing at her in wonder-full Love.  My heart cannot sustain the anticipation.

3 Months

Our Little Girl is three months old today.  She has already outgrown the hat I made for her.  It was so big when she first wore it...

And as I think about having a three (nearly four) month old baby later this month, I find myself fighting against jealousy of all those parents who have had the chance to hold their babies the whole time.  I think about all the nursing I've missed already, all the giggles and the growth.  I even think about all the dirty diapers and stained favorite clothes and sleepless nights I've missed.  She's changed so much since we met her and first whispered our hopes to bring her home someday.

I think about how our lives would be different now, if we'd had this baby for three months.  Being able to know her and to see her first smile, to be able to make her laugh, take her to doctor's appointments, read her books, sing her songs.  All the time.

But then I also think about the family we wouldn't know if we had our Girl already--our Baby's foster family.  We are blessed that they do not live too far away from us and we are able to go up to see the Babe at least once a week.  It's such a joy to know them, to have them in our lives, and in our Little Girl's life.  They take such good care of her and want nothing but her happiness.  They hope and pray that we are able to bring her home, forever.  And they have opened their hearts to us in ways I never expected.

Babies and Boobies

They're not so different, really.  Squishy, squeezy, squirt-y.

Though I guess breasts that are feeding babies are mostly the ones that are squirty.  And most people know that breasts only get squirty (ok, we'll use a grown-up word), that is, bring in a supply of milk after the woman has delivered a baby and the hormones + baby suckling cues the body to start producing milk.

But what does a woman do when she has a baby she didn't give birth to?  Can she still breastfeed?

Look, Ma!

no hands! 

Guess who snuggled up perfectly in this new mei tai.. and went right to sleep?  

That's right--(hopefully) our little girl :) 

Fiction Friday

Back and forth. Back and forth.  She gently rocked her new baby in her arms in the warm, dark bedroom.  Gentle baby coos issued from that perfect little mouth as his eyes fluttered up and down, resisting sleep, but smiling at his body's own frustrated effort.

Contentment.  Pure contentedness.  It flowed from the pair of them the way rain flows down a well-paved hill, gushing and spurting over any obstacle and rushing ever onward to its goal.

She looked at the tiny crib tucked right next to her and her husband's bed.  It was all ready and welcome to receive such a warm and cozy little bundle, ready to keep him safe and quiet and sleepy until she finished the dishes.  She took a step toward it but he cooed again.

She looked at him.  At his dark hair, his tiny fingers.  She watched him smile in his sleep..

Cribs can wait, she thought.  There will be time to lay him down later.  Dishes can wait.  He's all mine, right now.    I'm all his.

She sat down in the rocking chair, covered them both with a blanket and leaned her head back, listening to him breathe, close to her neck.  She could feel his heart beat.  She could feel his warm, soft cheek on her chest, his tiny hand wrapped around her finger.

Yes, dishes can wait..

Not Ready

My mother-in-law, bless her heart :) has been good enough to order Taylor and me the "baby essentials" so that we're ready--whenever it happens--to take a baby, maybe a certain baby, home with us.  We have received a changing pad and cover, the crib we picked out, and the ever-essential car seat.

When the UPS guy buzzed our apartment and I came downstairs to sign for the package, he offered to carry the large car seat box up the stairs for me.  I thought a brief moment why--when they usually don't--they would offer this time.  Then it occurred to me.

"Oh! We're adopting." I said.  "So I'm not in any "fragile condition" or anything." I smiled and said I'd be fine carrying it up--"but thank you for offering. I appreciate it."

When I got the box upstairs and set it down in our apartment it hit me.  I'm in a very fragile condition right now.  We've already determined I have pregnancy brain, even though I'm not pregnant.  But emotionally, I'm all frazzled.  The uncertainty of the entire situation is certainly wearing on the nerves--not only  not knowing when, but even if this baby will be ours.  If she will ever sit in that car seat, or sleep in that crib, or look around at the pictures I have on my wall.

I sat there on the floor, in front of The Car Seat box and cried.  Just a little bit.  And not a despairing cry, or an anxious cry.  Perhaps I was just coming to terms with having to be prepared and accepting that we may never need the car seat.

I just don't feel ready.  Not that I'm not ready to be a mother--I've been "ready" [are you ever really "ready" to be a mother? it's always learn-as-you-go to some degree] for motherhood since the day I got married.  And it's not that I'm not ready for a baby tomorrow.  I guess I just don't feel ready to start receiving baby gifts like there's a due date a few months down the road where we'll pack up and go to the hospital to await the arrival of the baby we've known for nine months already.  It's different with adoption.  I've never been pregnant, but I know this much:  it's just different to be expecting to adopt.

Now don't get me wrong--I am truly thankful for the baby things we've received and my  mother-in-law is 100% right that we need to be prepared, and the sooner the better!  But it's difficult, still.

My sister graciously agreed to let us keep the baby things in an extra closet in her house.  She's got the space, and they're not far away, should we need them at a moment's notice.  But at least for now, they're out of sight.. not out of mind.  That Little Girl we met is never far from my thoughts, never far from my hopes to hold her and buckle her into that seat.

But out of sight helps a little, in the meantime.

Please

You know Taylor and I very much want children in our lives, and that we have started the adoption process.  We are nearly done with our home study and hope for a placement in the next few months.  It is an exciting and unusual time--expecting a child with no known due date...

But today, on the anniversary of Roe v. Wade, I need to say something.  I'd like to put this case in a slightly different light.  In 1994 at the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington, DC, Blessed Teresa of Calcutta sent this message to the United States:

Please don't kill the child. I want the child. Please give me the child. I am willing to accept any child who would be aborted and to give that child to a married couple who will love the child and be loved by the child. From our children's home in Calcutta alone, we have saved over 3000 children from abortion. These children have brought such love and joy to their adopting parents and have grown up so full of love and joy.

Her words mean so much to me.  About a year and a half ago, a woman I knew of through a dear friend was pregnant and briefly considered placing her baby for adoption.  My friend asked Taylor and me if we had thought about adoption--which was interesting, since we were, but hadn't "announced" it yet.  We prayed about it and we both came to the conclusion that we did, indeed, want to start the adoption process.  We told her that if this woman was thinking about abortion, we would--unconditionally and no-questions-asked--accept her child, if only she would maintain the pregnancy.

The day I called my friend to tell her our decision, she told me the woman was on her way down to the abortion clinic.  I was crushed.  It was a blow I wasn't expecting--to feel so acutely that I had lost a child whom I had never seen and only known about for a week.

I think the baby was a girl.  I have named her. Our first Little Saint.

Preoccupied

I've heard of "pregnancy brain."  If 95.8% of your friends were pregnant, you'd have heard of it, too.  And while I'm not pregnant, I've been totally distracted lately.  By lately, of course, I mean the past 6 weeks.  I can't get anything done in a reasonable amount of time.  Thank goodness for deadlines (like Christmas and airline schedules) or much would not have been accomplished at all.

Patrick McManus says that humans have a "worry box" in their brain and they can only hold so many items to worry or think about.  If one thing too many is added to the box, something else slips out.  My worry box is all full up.  Other Things don't even have a chance.

At least, my subconscious worry box is full up--I'm still able to think about Things like "when should I start dinner?" or "gosh, I really should empty the trash." or even "hm, maybe I should wake up so I can get to work on time."  But I have little space to worry about Christmas thank you cards (sorry folks, nothing personal!), sewing projects, or keeping the house tidy.

All I really want to do is putter around online (not unlike an attention-deficient squirrel on PCP) and ignore most of the things I have to do.

See, I can't stop thinking about her.  Her face.  Her hands.  Her birth parents.  The whole situation.

What's going to happen?  When will we know anything?  Why the delay?  Why now?  What do You want of us, Lord?  What should we do?

I know that my questions will be answered in time--in God's time, but my subconscious is overloaded in the meantime.  I walk into a room to get something or do something and the moment I get there, I forget what I needed.  I go to the computer to look something up.  I manage to check my email (no new messages in the last 10 minutes--why am I checking again?), catch up on twitter, comment a bit on facebook, and browse around Amazon.  But I don't look up what I needed.

Then, listlessly, I go sit on the couch, trying to remember what I was going to do when I hear the lid on the pot of water I was heating begin to spurt and bubble and I remember--I wanted to look up some baking ratio.  But now the water's too hot and I have to cool it down again.

Is this what it's like to be expecting?  I suppose at least, with pregnancy brain, the eventual holding-of-the-baby is a pretty for-sure thing.  Maybe that's what's driving me nuts.  I can't plan maternity leave; I can't set up the crib; I can't put the carseat in the car.  Why bother right now if we'll be waiting another 4 months?  What if this child never becomes available for adoption and we're back on the "waiting list" for however-long?  I work well with deadlines.  I rely on them.  But there's no deadline with adoption.  No date past which we induce.

There's only the waiting.

Don't misunderstand--I'm not feeling cynical and I'm not despairing.  These are just real concerns in adoption.  Real unknowns that I'm struggling with and learning about.  I can only hope that the expectancy of my subconscious translates, somehow, into prayer for this little girl and her families.  Scripture tells us the Holy Spirit hears the groaning of our hearts and knows our need more than we do.  My heart aches for This Little Girl.

She has so many people who love her already.  I hope she can come home, where ever her home will be, soon.

And forever.

...

[miss this little girl...]

Firsts

I've held lots of babies in my life.  My sister when I was very young. Nieces and nephews. Siblings-in-law. Friends' babies.  Babies I've only just met.

But always it was just holding them. For a moment.  Here and there.  The baby was always someone else's baby.  They were mine only in Love and far-off relationship.

And I've given lots of baby gifts over the years.  Hats, blankets, carriers, pictures, booties, mittens, clothes, nursing covers, shoes.  I've wrapped them and transported them and handed them over, watching as the mother and father undid the wrapping and ooh-ed and ahh-ed.

I did all that today again, just like always.  But it was wildly different this time.  I sat down on the couch, with That Sweet Baby Girl in my arms and asked Taylor to grab the little gift bag I had brought.  I had thought that the foster mother would open it and ooh and ahh.

"Why don't you go open it? Over there with Baby?"  she said.

I wasn't ready for that.  I'd never opened a gift unless mother's hands were full (of baby).  And certainly never while holding a baby that might be mine.  Taylor brought the bag over, sat down next to me on the couch, and put his arm around my waist.

A Day Away

Tomorrow we'll meet her.  A baby girl who could be ours.  A baby girl that God has placed in our lives for a time--who knows how long--to remain in our hearts forever.

I've never met a baby that could be mine.  I've only ever held other people's children.  Children who had parents close by, who knew mommy and daddy from the first moment of life, who would never need to ask "who are my birth parents?"

I am a strange mix of excitement, joy, anxiety, sorrow, giddy-ness, and apprehension.  What will it be like when I hold her?  What will it be like when she grabs on to my finger with her sweet little hand?  Will I get to feed her?  Can I kiss her?  Will I want to?  What will I feel as I hand her back to her foster mother when it's time for us to go home?  I don't know.

Oh, Sweet Baby, I wanted very much to be your foster mother while the legal technicalities of your future were hammered out.  I wanted to hold you and feed you and sleep close by every night, watching you breathe, knowing that your mother wanted us in your life, no matter how long we got to take care of you... I know that God has a plan, though, so I must trust Him that this is the best way.  I miss you already, Baby, even though I haven't met you.  I can't wait to hold you, even if just once.