15 Days

I've started this post a few times.  There are so many things to say, and I have no words to say them.  I'm speechless.

Our life is about to change.  I've had this said to me a number of times in the past few weeks.  I would like to say, I know.  I know that it will change in ways I cannot yet fathom.  I know it already has.  I know that this is the change we've been waiting for for way too many years.  We are ready.  We are more than ready.  We have been waiting.  For too long.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I know that friends and family members are well-intentioned.  But sometimes it feels like their words of wisdom are a bit loaded, perhaps even threats.  We are older parents, perhaps not by choice, but it was a concerted effort.  The road to get here has not been easy, and my life has not been full of long vacations, late nights of partying, and bon bons on the couch.

We are not afraid, naive or saddened by the changes he'll bring to our lives.  He is wanted.  We have prayed, cried, begged and prayed some more for him.  I loved him from the moment I knew he was a possibility.  Perhaps even before.

We have been doubly blessed with his birthmother.  A kind, strong, loving mother.  She knows what she wants for her child, and she's determined to make it happen.  She knows that for now, she is not enough, and that he deserves the thing that she can't give him.  A father.  A family.  

My heart breaks for her, but she is amazing.  I know that I would not be strong enough to choose life, choose adoption, I would be too selfish.  She is honest, caring and funny.  She's courageous.  I hope that in the years to come BB will know all these things about his first mother.  I hope he knows she chose this path for him, for her, for all of us.

I hope he won't feel unloved and abandoned.  I hope she stays a part of our lives.  I hope she knows that I love her.  I want her to know she's his family, she's our family.  Without her we wouldn't be a family.

We are 15 days away.  We are ready.  We are excited.  We are nervous.  We are grateful.

Meeting our birthmom

After the phone calls, tears and can-you-believe-it's we arranged for a time and day to meet C, our birthmother.  We had a long, quiet drive to Fairbanks.  I napped to avoid a complete meltdown, Brent listened to talk radio.  In an effort to exert control I led him on a wild goose chase and made us 15 minutes late.


Brent was mildly annoyed with me when we walked in, checked in and waited, and waited, for what seemed like an eternity.  It was literally probably 30 seconds.  L came up, greeted us with hugs and congratulations and all the turmoil of getting there disappeared.


She led us down the steps to the room where our process (finger printing) began just months before.  The door opened, I saw a messy dark pony tail, and a teeny little girl.  After we were introduced all I could focus on was that belly.  That's all there was to her, dark hair, sweet face and lotsa baby belly.  I have no words for that moment.  My love for her grew in that moment and our fate was sealed.  She would be the woman to answer my every wish and most fervent prayer.  I thought I'd feel guilt, maybe some jealousy, or perhaps even a little resentment.  Nothing.  Nothing but love and gratefulness.


The first thing she said was that she could promise a cute and fat baby.  Instantly all my apprehension and distrust floated away. We sat and talked for hours, learning about each other's pasts, and what we all wanted for the future.  We talked about her two young sons, and her desire for them to know this boy, our son.  She's an intelligent, goal-oriented, loving mother.  There were no tears on her part that day, just steely resolve, and a determination to do what was best for her baby, our baby.  She explained a bit of her past, with some apprehension.  I told her the truth.  Life takes us on a journey, we have no control, and we, of all people, understand that life happens.  I assured her that she would find no judgement with us.  From there, we flowed.


As we sat and talked, and talked some more.  C interrupted while I was talking to say that Baby Boy must like my voice because he went crazy whenever I was talking.  It was a simple statement, that quite literally took my breath away.


Sometime over the coming hours at lunch we discovered that she and I both hate socks, and a million other little tiny things that we have in common.  She explained how she chose us, and her mom chose us, how her dad raised pigs growing up, and how I grew up on a pig farm.  She talked about her plan for her future, and in a completely honest moment, I was so proud of her.  For not letting a detour stop her from becoming who she longs to be.  


She shared pictures of her boys.  Beautiful, beautiful boys. My heart was gone, sailing...


In the days and weeks past we've shared texts, phone calls from L, and we'll be meeting with C and her little guy (and ours) later this week.  I'm just hoping for a nice, relaxing visit for us all.

April 5, 2012

I have always imagined what it would be to hear the news that I would become a mother.  It happened nothing like I imagined, but it was absolutely perfect. 

April 5, 2012 started out as a completely normal day.  In fact, my work day ended as a completely normal day.  It was Day #2 of waiting to hear if we would be parents, or if we would (certainly, in my head) be turned down again.

I had just left base and was tooling along the Richardson Hwy when I received a blocked call on my phone.  This meant one of two things.  A telemarketer (jerks!) or the adoption agency.  I grabbed that phone and hit answer faster than I can down a twinkie. 

I was right.  It was L, from the agency. I was preparing myself for another no, as she was giving me grief for answering my cell phone while I was driving.  I was telling myself that it was no, and it was ok.  That our time would be soon, when I heard the words "C has chosen you and Brent to parent her child.   She'd like to meet you." I immediately started sobbing, set down the phone and pulled over.   I just sat there and listened to details, not believing those words, not hearing the majority of what was being said.  I heard boy, due June 8, and I was in love.  And so stinkin' excited I thought I might explode.

She ended the phone call, and I got out of my truck.  I'm sure to the passers by, the lady jumping up and down, obviously emotional, was probably a pretty disturbing sight.  I could care less.  On the way home I tried to imagine how I would tell Brent.  I would glance at my speedometer and see that it was far above what the Alaska State Troopers would find excusable.  I eventually just set my cruise and tried to enjoy the longest, most agonizing trip home.  Ever.

I finally got home and found that Brent and the dogs were outside.  Cash and Ches greeted me as they do everyday, and Brent's nose was buried in the hood of the snowmobile.  I tried to give sufficient love to the furkids, but I was bursting.  I asked Brent to turn around and look at me.  I told him I had something really important to say and he had to look at me.  I could tell he was annoyed.  I left my sunglasses on so he wouldn't see my red, puffy eyes.  Though how he could miss the tears on my cheeks, I have no idea.

I said to him, "well, I hope you can take some time off work in June.  I can't really bring your son home from the hospital by myself.  She chose us!!!"  To which the most manly face turned exuberant with yes's and a whole lot of jumping and fist pumping.  Then we hugged, shared our moments, and I'm pretty sure he asked me at least 25 times if I was lying to him.  And the phone calls began.

I find myself weepy, excited and scared all within a 30 second window.  I'm pretty sure he feels the same.  Then the reality hits that she could change her mind, we push that down, and we just enjoy the pure joy we feel.  How blessed we are!

MIA

My penchant for blogging left me a while back.  I was drowning in stacks of paperwork, profiles to write, background checks to complete and an assortment of all kinds of fun things.  And now, I have too much time on my hands, and still with nothing really happening, it feels like I don't have much interesting to say.  This is what's up.


We have a completed homestudy.  We have a completed profile.  And we're waiting.  Waiting for a mother somewhere in Alaska to decide that she's not ready to be a parent, and to pick us to parent her child.  The latter is the trickier portion of the equation.  That being said, I'm practing my patience skills every day.  Some days are easier than others, and those that haven't been through it don't understand.  It's okay.  I smile.  And wait....and wait...and...you get the picture.


April 2012 will mark the beginning of our 12th year waiting to become parents.  In some ways it seems like a lifetime ago we began this journey.  In other ways it seems like yesterday.   I have learned a lot, changed a lot, and become a woman in the process. 


While I wish that our journey hadn't been quite so long and drawn out, I can say that I view parenthood and parenting much differently than I did a dozen years ago.  I personally feel that I will be a better mother, more prepared for how an 8lb wonder will change our world.  And more prepared to handle life that revolves around a vomiting, pooping, jumble of perfect imperfections.  


I cannot wait to meet my child.  I cannot wait to meet the woman who gives me the most precious gift.  And I cannot wait to make my parents grandparents.  I wish I weren't going to be the first. I wish my brothers would bless our family with some beautiful, bouncing babies!  Come on boys!!!  But I know that their decisions are theirs.  And while I cannot always understand I have learned to respect those choices.  


My younger brother isn't off the hook, yet.  Giddy up, Andy Taylor!  


I don't wish infertility on anyone.  But I wish it were easier to explain to those outside the fire how absolutely life-changing it is.  How much pressure, stress and fatigue it adds to your life.  How it threatens to tear apart every dream and ideal you ever had, almost succeeds, and then the relief and joy in managing to find the love and happiness in your life once again.  


How it changes the way you look at every relationship, feel about women who can conceive with seemingly little effort.  How it makes you feel crazy, and feel like an outsider amongst your friends and family.  How you don't want to feel angry, hurt, like dying, when one more person receives the gift of a child.

I wish that people could know how happy we were at the news of their coming babies, how much we love the children in our lives.  Our nephews, our niece and our friends children.  


I wish I could find a way in words to convey how anticipated and loved our future children are.  How much we want them and how proud we are to be (potential) adoptive parents.  How the decision to adopt was easy for me, and how once my better half decided he was ready to adopt attacked it with gusto.  I wish those who haven't been through it wouldn't judge.  


You don't know our hearts, you don't know what happens in our life, and if you cared enough to ask, we'd be happy to share.  Just trust that we have thought through every decision, gotten lots of advice, done a ton of research, and we're going to rock this parenthood thing. :)


Happy Spring!