It's a Boy!

This might have been the longest day in history. 

Highlights:

1. Nichole had an ultrasound.  It's a boy!

2. C-section is schduled for Friday at noon!

3.  I'm going to bed.  'Night all!

"Let choice whisper in your ear and love murmur in your heart. Be ready. Here comes life." -Maya Angelou

Miles to Go Before I Sleep

The visit today with Nichole went better than I could have ever hoped.  I drove, we walked, we ate lunch, we talked, we listened.  We asked questions.  We laughed, a little. 

Nichole is beautiful, in personality and in appearance. She is steadfast.  Decided.  Serious.  Interested.  Curious.  Exceptionally strong.

A couple of minutes into the car ride, I blurted:  "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.  Not to embarass you."   She said: "All of my kids have my eyes."  I just smiled.

Three and a half hours later I was talking to Kevin on the phone, as I drove back to the B&B.  I quietly said: "I'm starting to think that this might actually happen."  Immediately I catch my breath as I remember that I could drive home with an empty baby carrier in my backseat. 

That said, after my solo (fabulous paella) dinner at the local Mexican restaurant, I locked my car doors, parked away from light posts, and sobbed.  Dug around in my dark car for tisses and wept. 

I wept in light of Nichole’s courage.  Her faith in us.  Her hope for her child.  For the crappy, ugly, real, evil twin to adoption: relinquishment.  The overwhelming brokenness that it represents.  For the dichotomy of hope that we might actually adopt this baby, and the searing pain of loss.

I wept because this adoption story (if it continues and results in signed papers 72 hours after the baby's birth, and a permanent placement of the child in our home), is owned by this sweet, swimming, peaceful child.  No wonder s/he is stubborn in making an appearance.

I wept because according to plan, Nichole will go home without a baby carrier in her backseat.

It rained all day.  How apropriate.

I pray for God's continued hand to guide this story, we souls dancing together in this solemn, joyful waltz.  That we courageously help this child embrace, and never forget, the love that we all have for him/her. 

I was Born in a Small Town

Waiting.


Ready.

Unbelievably excited.  Cautious.

I'm cozied up in a beautiful B&B in small-town Illinois, eight hours from our home in Michigan, scheduled to meet at 10am tomorrow, in person, for the first time, the woman who has chosen our family to be her child's family.  She is a mom; she plans to make me a mom again.

Mindblowing.

Together we wait for her to go into labor or for her doctor to schedule a c-section.

This sure is one small town, with small-town welcome like none other.  My B&B host went to college in my hometown and has a son and daughter-in-law who adopted domestically.  She is elated.  (I find that I feed off others' excitement, as I'm simultaneously elated and protected, mentally and emotionally.)  I feel right at home here.  It reminds me of my hometown.  (BTW, these pics are not really from this B&B or this town.)

Here's what's happened so far.  And, no, we don't yet know the baby's gender.  And for those of you that are itching for details, Hello, can you say LONG blog post ALERT!  (If you don't want a TON of detail, just skim to the bottom.)

11/1/11.  Tuesday.  I heard about this adoption situation on site kinda like Facebook, dedicated to connecting home-studied families with adoption agencies.  I emailed the agency for more information, knowing the mom was due that same day.  No, she hadn't had the baby yet and wasn't matched with a family.  We knew the mom was in IL; its closeness appealing to us as we hope for an open adoption situation.  (PS.  I seriously didn't know Illinois was so BIG!)

11/2/11.  Wednesday.  Kevin and I talked about this situation and it looked great to us for many reasons.  We decided we'd cautiously move forward, just taking one step at a time. I called the agency that completed our home study (Adoption Associates Inc.), asking if they'd be willing to FAX our home study to another agency.  I got a "sure! tomorrow?" response and our case worker gave me welcome advice on some good questions to ask the agency.

11/3/11.  Thursday.  I completed and emailed the agency's preliminary application, telling them we were interested in the situation in IL.  AAI faxed over our home study early Thursday morning.  That afternoon the agency presented more (not personally identifiable) detail to me about the mom and baby.  All systems were go from our perspective, so they presented us to the mom.  The mom thought about it (us) overnight.  I surprisingly slept peacefully.

11/4/11.  Friday.  Early Friday afternoon I got a call that the mom wanted to take the next step have a phone conference.  We began that phone call 15 minutes later and talked for about a half hour with agency facilitation.  Soon thereafter the agency called to say we were an official match!  The mom had made an adoption plan for her child with our family!

Kevin and I told our colleagues, friends, and our parents. I notified Human Resources regarding FMLA, found out that my mom was willing to retire two weeks early to care for M while we were in IL, and I ran to the bank for a wire transfer.  Friday evening we freaked out.  Went our for dinner with M and went to bed early.

11/5/11. Saturday.  We dug baby clothes out of the garage attic.  We drank too much coffee.  We put the car seat in our car. We explained the situation to M.  Sent cautiously excited emails notifying friends, family and church.  We talked, planned, asked questions and prayed for the mom and baby.  We researched organic formula and bought dye free diapers (boy those have come down in price since M's birth!).

We were very pleased to find out that the mom is interested in meeting us prior to the baby's birth.  And we are overjoyed that she wants us to be involved at the hospital.  We went out for a very late dinner with friends who have adopted and listened, learned and asked a lot of questions.

11/6/11.  Sunday.  We decided that I would go to IL right away to meet Nichole.  Kevin will join me as soon as a c-section was scheduled or labor has begun.  I talked with Nichole for a bit that evening.  Nicole is articulate.  Cautious.  Very thoughtful.  Determined.  Honest.  Funny.  Tired.  She said she is nervous.  I assured her that we are too; this is a first for all of us.  We had dinner with other dear friends that have adopted and floated baby names to them, with no firm decisions made.

11/7/11.  I worked some today, getting my projects handed off to my team; preparing for (at least) six weeks of FMLA leave.  I ran three miles.  I talked with Nicole and let her know that I'm here, in the small same town as the hospital in which she will give birth.  A dear friend, Amy B., drove 2 1/2 hours from my hometown to visit me, just for the evening.  She gave me a mug that says: "Keep calm and carry on."  Praying for that, yes!  Bless you, friend!

Here is the plan so far, for those of you that are curious.  (Most points are subject to change.)

My mom is arriving on Amtrak tonight to care for M while we are both away.
I'm meeting with Nichole tomorrow morning to visit, go out for coffee or lunch.
Nichole's baby is 41 weeks along today.
We'll go to her doctor appointment on Wednesday.  If she hasn't begun active labor by Wednesday, they will schedule a C-section, but we don't know when.
Nichole has asked us to choose the baby's name.  (No spoiler here!)
If all goes as planned with Nichole beginning the legal process at 72 hours after the baby's birth, I will stay with my brother and sister-in-law in Chicago until the ICPC paperwork has been completed, which could be up to fourteen days.  Then home to MI.

More to follow soon!

Blessings to all and to all a goodnight.  

Another ONE

Yes, another miscarriage. 

I simultaneously feel shock, awe.  And an odd, numbing familiarity.

I feel tears stuck in my throat. An odd resignation.

No surprise.  Confirmation of current knowledge.

Anger at the brokenness of our bodies, nonetheless.

I hear babies crying.  (Well, figuratively, just so you don't send me to the loonie bin.)

It's different to find out you're having a miscarriage before you found out you were pregnant.

Malia is the miracle.

Thank God for her.

Hope lives for a life grown in another womb, to join our family.  Someday.

Thanksgiving

What motivates you?  What keeps you going through challenges?  How do you embrace the moment while you wait?  What pushes you forward, spurs you on?

On this Canadian Thanksgiving weekend I'm thankful for:

Music.  All types.  These are just some of my favorites, old and new.  Sinead O'Connor.  Sara Bareilles.  Music Together.  Beastie Boys.  Public Enemy.  

Support systems.  They are fabulous.  They are not for the weak, but for the strong.  We were created to crave community, belonging, speaking and listening.  Caring.  Helping.

Nature.  Thank you God for it.  Its complexity, its fragility, its intricacies, its beauty.  

Family and community.  Thank you for thriving cities, art, dance, concerts, teachers, and all people that improve communities, care for others, provide encouragement and bring about improvement.

Quotes are bits of shared wisdom.  These quotes have been particular meaningful to me within this last week:

I am thankful that I am parenting.  I love being a mother.  Exhaustion.  Overwhelming joy.  Peace.  Chaos.  Laughter.  I love the bliss of experiencing a new body and soul growing into herself.

I love being an educator.  There is always something more to learn, some assistance to provide, another way to listen, to share, to collaborate.  I love electronic tools and new ways of thinking that increase efficiency and effectiveness for students and teachers every day.  I am motivated by turning data into information to inform instruction and increase learning.  

I love life.  This messy, painful, joyous existence.  It surely is a gift.  

I am thankful.

Three Matches....No Baby...Yet

This adoption process is not for the faint of heart.

Persevering through this is a marathon.  Muscles burning, expending all energy for just one more step.  The next moment almost flying through the air.  These are mountainous peaks and valleys.

Most adoptive families experience more than one match before a permanent placement and finalized adoption. We are zero for three.  "Match" describes a wide range of situations, from a mom choosing an adoptive family but never meeting, to developing a close, multi-month relationship of going to doctor visits, planning names and bonding.  We have not met any of the moms that have chosen our family in any of our three matches. 

First, we were matched September 2010 with a mom that was making an adoption plan for her one year old and her three year old.  A family member of the mom chose to adopt her children.

In June 2011 we were chosen by a mom who was using Michigan's safe delivery law to relinquish her child to protect herself and her baby from an abusive partner.  Horrifically IMHO, the hospital chose another family for this baby with no input from the mom.  Nor was she allowed to send a love letter with her child as s/he began life with his/her new family.

Two days ago we were matched with/chosen by a mom and dad in Florida whose baby is due in January.  We were asked to fly to Florida this weekend to meet with the couple. They need money now to get the mom out of homelessness. Can you say red flag? This situation, for many reasons, does not work for us. How did we say no to this baby?  How?  Simply. Heart. Wrenching. 

Should we have chosen differently?  I don't know.  Should we have said yes?  Flown half way across the US?  I have no idea.  My brain hemispheres speak different languages; One side screaming a different message than the other, peaceful, quiet side.

We will continue to wait...and live fully.  Embracing the present.  We grow stronger.

I have never felt God's presence, guidance, love, and comfort like this.  Surely God is "one crafty mother" (as Anne Lamott writes.)  Yet confusion is sneaky.  Only strong marriages can survive this, I'm sure.  Steadfast friendships help immeasurably.

Dear friends of ours, that have been waiting to adopt since last summer as well, are bringing their bundle of joy home today; they were matched two days ago.  We rejoice with them beyond word expression.  Yet as my knees slammed into the 125-year-old wood floor of our kitchen, I wept.  I wept with immeasurable joy for our dear friends; happy tears.  I wept in pain; momentarily afraid it will never happen for us.  The dichotomy of pain and joy.

I've never been more sure that our pain pales in comparison to the experience of a mother/father making an adoption plan.  Not that different pain can be measured by placement on a scale.

I have never felt as peaceful.  I'm sure that there is a baby for us.  I can't wait to fold the little soul close to my chest in a baby wrap. 

I'm praying for the mothers in all of the situations mentioned above.  I'm praying for the mom considering an adoption plan that will choose us...someday.

I'm pretty sure I might be certifiably insane.  Or I'm just your typical, special, soon-to-be adoptive mom.  Maybe wearing an Elvis costume through this marathon would help?

Learning While Waiting

To combat the challenge of waiting to adopt, I've been working on flexing my mental muscle to focus on the positive.  I do still, definitely, allow myself little pity parties too.

I'm learning to care for myself by prioritizing exercise.  Primarily through RUNNING!  Seriously, it has never felt so great.  Getting treated for asthma recently helped just a tad.  I ran five miles last night: woohoo!

I breathe deeply.  

I enjoy eating healthy foods that fuel my body.  (This is a HUGE change!)  For the first time in my 37 years I'm losing weight by caring for myself.  Not shaming, blaming, despising, hating.  Geneen Roth's work has resonated and taught me that caring for myself comes BEFORE losing weight, NOT after. 

I'm learning to exist in now.  Enjoy the moment I'm in.  Not dwelling on past moments or wishing myself into an unknown future.

I'm giving up control, over and over and over.  Anne Lamott claims the two best prayers she knows are: "Help me, help me, help me" and "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She has a friend whose morning prayer each day is "Whatever," and whose evening prayer is "Oh, well." Anne describes God as "one crafty mother."  I like this...a lot.

I'm contemplating this adoption journey.  Anticipating.  Praying for birth parents everywhere.  Learning about relinquishment.  Thinking about phrases and words that describe adoption.  Contemplating the adopted child's grief and loss.  Thinking about inefficiencies of the whole adoption system.  Hoping that we'll have open adoption(s).  Learning a lot about transracial adoption.  Praying for wisdom for all adoptive parents, including us...someday. 

I'm learning to live vibrantly, even while embracing grief.  Multiple years of infertility and three miscarriages have not only taken.  They have molded, impacted.  Added depth. 

Although not a new concept to me, I am beyond-words-thankful for loving, listening, joyful and authentic husband, friends, family and community.  The joy of embracing new friends into our lives is pretty darn amazing as well!

I'm learning who I am, and gently feeling my way to who I want to be.

I'm leaning into life.

Open heart.  Open mind.  Thankful.  Loving.  Learning.