Forty and Four Hundred

Gestation Periods:

Mice—19 days

Prairie dog—33 to 38 days

Mountain Lion—95 days

Black bear—215 days

Orangutan—270 days

Sperm Whale—480-500 days

I was hoping to have a great update by now.  I was hoping to shout L-O-A, but I can’t.  Adopting is apparently most like giving birth to a whale (no wonder I've put on a few pounds!).  Our paperwork, and our baby girl sit, just waiting to get shuffled along.  It’s been seventy days since we saw her face for the first time and nearly burst with love for someone we’ve yet to meet.

Today is 40 days of waiting for our LOA, and nearly 400 days in process for this adoption.  Four hundred days of thinking of our baby every day.  Forty days of thinking “this could be the day that we can begin counting down to our Forever Family Day.” 

Remember when you were a kid and you COULD.NOT.WAIT for your birthday, or Christmas, or whatever the most special holiday was in your family?  As we get older, it’s easy to forget how long those few weeks seemed.  It’s easy for me to tell my kids, “it’ll be here before you know it.”  Well, here I am again, feeling five years old, thinking each day is taking FOREVER. 

Forty is such an interesting number.  It’s repeated over and over in Christian, Jewish, and Muslim scripture, and it is always related to trial, a time of change, or maturity.   In ancient times, a solar year was counted in 40 day cycles.  It has been a trial to live outside of rules and estimates, and any semblance of “fairness.”  There is simply no real way to tell when the paperwork might get done.  Predicting (guessing) and being wrong only makes it more painful.  It has been a time of maturity for our family, and me specifically, as we get sister’s room ready and I answer the oft repeated question from her brothers of “when, Mama, when?” 

I wrote at the beginning of this process about being taken to the end of myself, over and over, and knowing the reality of “too much” was really God’s way of growing me in places I would never have predicted.  Well, I’m growing.  I officially have stretch marks on my soul.  Now please, please let it be soon. 

And for those of you who have so patiently followed along and encouraged us, here’s a peek into the room we’re working on (it's a lighter pink in person and I haven't finished figuring out the artwork for her walls)…

The Case for Santa

“Mom, do you have Santa’s address?”  So cute, but not what you think…I’ll get back to this later….

We live in the land of excess.  It’s a fact.  If you are an American, you have too much.  You throw away more food than some ever get.  We turn on a faucet and have clean, hot water come gushing forth.  That’s luxury.  It also makes us spoiled.

So, when I see some who shun big glittery Christmases, I can understand.  When I read articles about how to teach your child to ask for gifts of time, or how to get their Christmas list down to three things, I feel pretty good that maybe we’re not as morally corrupt as generations before us seem to think we might be.  My children know, unequivocally, that we celebrate Christmas as the day Jesus was born.  But, Santa, well, Santa is here to stay in this house.

You can lecture me about how Santa is a Coca-Cola construct, or how we’ve moved away from the tradition of Saint Nicholas merely bringing one nice thing, or filling a stocking, but you won’t change my mind.  I’ve wondered, for years, if we were ruining our children, “lying” to them, letting them think nice things come from nothing. 

Two little boys changed this Mama’s mind.  These two boys believe in fairies, and leprechauns, and seem to believe “Jack Frost” is a real guy out there somewhere with a giant frozen paintbrush.  And they love every second of it.  They are willing to believe that there are things out there that they don’t fully understand, and that those things are beautiful and wonderful.  They have faith in things unseen. 

(I know, this is the part where I get in trouble). 

They believe, because they can see “fairy dust” that the tooth fairy spills.  They believe because they see the frozen patterns Jack Frost leaves. They believe because Santa leaves them at least one gift that was exactly what they asked for (even in a whisper).   They believe with a sweet faith.  If you never believe in anything bigger than mankind, with the innocence of a child, how do you begin to wrap your head around something bigger than yourself later?  Where do you get faith muscles?  NO, I’m not saying you must teach your children about Santa if you want them to believe in God--PLEASE don’t write to me about how blasphemous I am!  I simply think it’s a lovely bridge into talking about getting things we haven’t earned, and believing in things that we can’t prove. 

This year, for the first time, I heard, “Mom, do you have Santa’s address?”  I figured they’re both old enough to write actual Christmas lists and letters, my careful and practical little boy probably wants to make sure we know where to send it before he goes through all of that effort.  I was wrong.  When I asked why, he said, “Well, Santa makes all of the presents.  He delivers them to children all over the world.  And no one sends him any.  I’d like to send Santa a Christmas present.”  It took me a minute to recover….then we had a lovely discussion about what we could send to a guy who has everything and could make anything he wanted to play with or use.  We talked about how God gives us everything, and the only thing we can give him back is ourselves, our love.  What could Santa not give himself?  He couldn't give himself a drawing that was hand made by my sweet boy, a piece of himself.  (Or twenty such drawings...we're still working on it!)

My little one believes that Santa leaves gifts on Christmas Eve, something he cannot prove.  He is inspired by the selfless way that Santa gives, and figured out through that inspiration that his heart, time, and talents are the best gifts he can give.  Along the way, we got to have a discussion about the gifts that God gives.  The case for Santa is a good one, if you can use it to guide young hearts and not just spoil them rotten.

News! The Right Place, The Right Time

Well, we've spoken with many of you already, and you might have seen our exciting news, but in case you haven't,
WE
ARE
MATCHED!

It's a crazy and wonderful story.  The agency we were using was telling us that it could be up to another year before they had a match for us.  That was tremendously sad because we KNOW there are kids who are waiting for families.  We are ready, they are ready, WHY do we all have to wait?  Well, it's a matter of where the files for those little ones go.

Disclaimer:  this is my own understanding of how the process works...
Most children who are adopted from Ch*na right now come from orphanages that have "partnerships" with a particular agency.  So, that agency may support the orphanage through donations, staff training, facility upgrades, etc.  When the children from that orphanage then have their file prepared for adoption, the files will first go to the partnership agency.  These files are VERY rarely transferred to another agency.

Our agency was a large, incredibly professional, efficient organization with a wonderful reputation.  They really are amazing to work with.  However, because of all that I just mentioned, the "line" of families waiting to work with them is long.  We were pretty far down that line, and didn't necessarily realize it at first.

Through some incredible circumstances, we found out that another agency had (for a brief moment), a few more files than families.  After a LOT of prayer, we decided to give them a call.  One week later, on October 8th, we saw our daughter's face.  She's very young, and very beautiful--chubby cheeks, a sweet little nose, a smile that lights up her eyes, and a she wrinkles her nose when she laughs!  There was no going back.

So, we transferred to our new agency, AAC Adoptions, and got busy on more paperwork! On November 6th, we were given our new Log in Date (LID), and submitted a letter of intent (LOI) for our precious little one.  

What we are waiting for now:
Our dossier (paperwork) had already been translated and reviewed by the central adoption authorities.  However, transferring agencies makes us have to go through part of that review again.  So, we wait, again.  We are waiting for what's called a letter of acceptance (LOA), which could take 2 weeks or 2 months.  After that, we play what I like to think of as a game of paperwork "tag" with immigration for about 10 weeks before we can go get her!  We are hoping to travel by March.  Yep, it's a long way away, and it's hard to know she's sitting and waiting for us, but she appears to be very well taken care of, and we are praying for her each day.

Oh, and PICTURES---sorry, we can't share until LOA.  We'll share her new name and  sweet face when we're allowed.  In the meantime, if you see us around, please ask us, you might get a sneak preview!

Croppy Pictures

I have wonderful in-laws.  Truly, they are amazing.  But, my mother-in-law likes photos, and, I’m not exactly a fan of being IN pictures.  I’ve known my husband a long time, so I remember a picture at his parent’s house of ME, a 5x7 print of me, at my college graduation.  I was beaming—happy, proud, and relieved all at one time.  But when I looked at that picture all I saw was that my head was turned awkwardly and I had about a million chins.  Maybe a billion.  I asked him why his parents would have such an awful picture of me in their home.  His answer didn’t sink in for over a decade.  “Because they love you, and they’re proud of you, and it’s not awful.” 

Like a lot of moms, when I had my babies I especially hated having my picture taken.  I had in my mind that I was puffy and tired and without make up, and WHY on earth would I want to remember that?  I’m here to tell you, I am forever grateful to friends and family who did take my picture—who INSISTED that I be in the picture.  Going back through pictures of my early marriage and my first few precious years with my sweet boys, I LOVE those pictures.  I wish there were more.  I look at them and I think, “Look how young I was.  Look how happy and healthy I was, and how much fun we were having.”  I won’t lie, sometimes I also think, “Dang, what is WITH that haircut!?”  They are all good reminders.  Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not nostalgic because life is less wonderful now.  But I’m not 23 anymore.  My boys are not babies anymore.   You don’t get those days back.

My mother-in-law still loves pictures.  She makes albums for each year.  They are sorted and labelled and full of decades of beautiful memories.  And, along with precious memories of family vacations and special people, I’m in those albums.  The young me, the less young me, the skinny me on my wedding day, the first half marathon me, the nine months pregnant me, the still pudgy first day home from the hospital with baby me, the me-trying-to-lean-out-of-the-picture-please-don’t-take- my-picture-right-now me.  They’re all in there.  I want to go back and tell them how it all works out.  I want to tell them to get comfortable, to enjoy it, to have confidence that THAT body will carry you through amazing times and places. 

I want to encourage my mom friends…dads too.  You don’t get do-overs.  You won’t get younger.  You will want to remember that day on the beach, even if all you have of it is the picture of you with your belly puckering and your hair blowing in your face with that raccoon sunburn.  Your kids will want those pictures too.  They don’t want pictures of your arm around them with the rest of you cropped out.  They don’t want pictures of you wearing that pained look because there’s a camera in front of you.  They want pictures of those special moments where you (with your imperfect arms or your bad hair day or your slightly-too-tight pants or your bathing suit wearing 40 year old self) are giving them a big squishy hug and enjoying every second of it.  You don’t want to look at them right now?  Fine.  Put them away.  But keep them.  Don’t hit delete so fast, and don't get crop-happy.  And, for the love of all things good, next time someone asks if you want to be in the picture, say YES.

My favorite awful photo of 2014...

Getting Somewhere--Bit By Bit

Just after publishing my three hundred days post, I got an email back from our agency answering a question I had asked about our dossier.  I had asked about being OOT, or out of translation.

The process goes something like this:
1. Get documents together (dossier)  .....
2. Send them to Ch*na (DTC)   .......
3. They are received and logged into a central system (LID)
4. They are fully translated, word by precious word
5. They show in the system as out of translation (OOT)
6. They are reviewed to be ready to compare a child's medical files against the family's approved home study and immigration paperwork (Reviewed)

Then, after a family is matched:
*The family writes an LOI (letter of intent)
*The LOI prompts a Match Review (to make sure the family's paperwork and the child's paperwork are compatible, ie: the family is approved by immigration to adopt the age and special needs that are listed)
*Letter of acceptance (LOA) is issued as long as everything matches up

Then the LOA starts the process toward travel to pick up that child (generally LOA to travel is about 10-12 weeks).

Well, my email said we are all the way through the top six points.  We are Reviewed!  That's exciting because if we had been matched right away, we would have been waiting for our dossier to go through translation and review anyway.  Many people wait over 70 days, and some up to 100 days just to get to the step we are already on.

It also means that when we are matched, we will probably get the LOA very quickly (fastest I've seen is 2 days, but most are close to a week), and we will be on our way to pick up our daughter much faster.  This way, when we see her little face, we'll be about 2-4 months away from picking her up, rather than 4-6 months away.

All of this being said, I'm frustrated today.  It is looking like next May is a very real possibility for how long it might take to get that precious referral and match.  :(

Three Hundred

As I write, we are on day 299 of our wait for our little girl.  Tomorrow, a Saturday, we wouldn’t hear from our agency.  So, I’m staring at 300 days of waiting.  Three HUNDRED. 

Since the day we said yes and officially filed our MCC (Medical Conditions Checklist), we have been waiting to see who she will be.  Realistically, she has probably also been waiting this long, or nearly.

True Confessions of a Hopeful Mom:

*I have looked at our medical checklist about a 4,654 times, trying to see if we should add other conditions, which is crazy, because we read, researched, prayed and agreed about what to add in the first place.  Good thing my husband is such a rock!

*I have searched other agency’s waiting child photos, hoping I might see her face.

*I have fallen in love with photos and stories of children at special homes through their Facebook pages.  Several of these children have already left these facilities to join their true Forever Family.

*I have been decorating and filling a room for a child we don’t know about yet; and I have loved it.

*I have cried both happy and sad tears when other children have been matched with families we know.

*About once a month I call our agency for an update, even though I hear the same thing over and over.

Over and over.  Three hundred days over.

Three hundred is actually kind of a cool number.  Gideon was a guy in the bible.  I like his story because God was so patient with him.  God wanted him to do amazing things, but Gideon kept responding with his version of, “ok, but are you sure?” 

God tells him, I want you to save Israel, and Gideon says, “Pardon me, my lord, but how can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family.” (Judges 6:15) 

Gideon finally gets on board (after several days of convincing); and God tells him to get an army together to destroy the people who have been oppressing them.  Gideon can only get 32,000 men together, which he thinks is not nearly enough, and he’s right.  God has a different idea…“The Lord said to Gideon, “You have too many men. I cannot deliver Midian into their hands, or Israel would boast against me, ‘My own strength has saved me.’ (Judges 7:2) 

My.Own.Strength.  I’ll come back to that….

God wanted Gideon and his men, and all of Israel to see, once again, that while he might use them, he could use the weakest, and the least, and still overcome. 

Well, the end of the story goes like this:  God tells Gideon he can only have 300 men, he OBEYS, and the Midian army is destroyed by 300.  Just 300.  And God. 

Not by strength. By God. 

I am not strong enough for this.  I’m not strong enough to wait.  I’m not strong enough to help my daughter from here.  I’m not strong enough to help her through the feelings she might have later about why her story was written this way.  But God is.  I’m just one of 300, of the weakest, and the least.  But He is, and for that I am so very grateful today, day 299.

PS: Here’s a link to a wonderful essay written by a friend’s daughter recently.  I am grateful that she is willing to share her thoughts so that I can begin to pray for my daughter’s hurting heart before I ever even meet her.

http://www.nohandsbutours.com/2014/09/19/im-pretty-sure-my-china-mommy-cried/

The Director's Chair

We are still waiting. 

I wonder how many more months of updates we have where I will have to begin that way.  It has been ten months since we started our adoption journey.  Our agency, with their conservative estimates, says 5-8 more months.  But I wonder. 

My grandfather was an art director at a large company.  He had an bright yellow director’s chair with his name on it that I’m sure was some token of appreciation (or a good-humored joke) from years ago at that company.  He loved that chair, and I’m sure it was comfortable, but I never sat in it.  It had his name on it after all. 

Director—one entrusted with the direction of a group of individuals, a corporation, or an artistic production. 

If we think of our lives as the most beautiful, the most complicated of artistic productions, we know that we have no right to sit in the director’s chair.  Whether you believe in the universe, karma, or God by any name, you know that chair doesn’t have your name on it.  You are not writing the story, nor can you predict the outcome.  We try, and sometimes it feels like we’re sitting in that chair, but like triumphant toddlers standing on top of the kitchen table, we’re not really doing it right, and it’s not a safe spot.  We are bound to fall.

You can use whatever you like as a reminder, but my reminder is Proverbs 16:9 “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps.” 

I am planning.  I’m painting and buying a few little outfits in bigger sizes when they are on sale.  I’m checking our agency website.  I’m making lists of things that need to be done before we travel.  I’m asking for luggage for Christmas.  But, the steps to actually bring me to our little girl, those are still unknown.  The step of seeing her little face is so far away that I can’t imagine it. 

So, we stay….

                       One.

                                   Step.

                                                At.

                                                        A.

                                                                Time.

Be Still

The story of Moses parting the Red Sea for the Israelites is, I would venture, quite well known.  I was reading it again this morning, though, thinking, if I were an Israelite, seeing the Egyptian army in all of it's military glory coming after me, feeling stuck up against an ocean that can't be crossed, I would have panicked too!  I would have complained the way that they did, "Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us here to die?" (Ex 14:11).  But, they didn't know what God was about to do.  The only reassurance they were given was from Moses, who answered the people, "Do not be afraid.  Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today.  The Egyptians you see today you will never see again.  The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still" (Ex 14: 13-14, emphasis mine).  That day the Lord parted the Red Sea for them to cross over, peacefully, just before allowing the ocean to wash back into place, destroying the Egyptian army completely.

I am sure that there were those among the Israelites who could have held their own.  They could have put up a valiant fight, maybe even escaped.  The Lord could have chosen to give them superhuman strength or perfect aim or the element of surprise to overpower the Egyptians.  But instead, this one time, I can almost hear God saying, "Sit right here. Don't move.  Be quiet and just watch.  I've got this."  And He did.

I am a valiant fighter.  God made me strong, gave me good sense, and an ability to GET STUFF DONE.  So, the very hardest thing for me to do is to be still.  I just don't want to.  Our adoption right now is forcing me to do that very thing.  We are logged in.  We will soon have been logged in for three months, waiting, waiting for that file of the little girl who is supposed to join our family.  We've been told it could be another 6-9 months of waiting, just to find out who she is.  I'm not going to lie, it stinks.  I hate that somewhere, she is waiting, without her family, without a Mama.  I want her to have someone sing her to sleep, I want her to have someone hug her good morning, I want her to know that she is so very cherished.  It's ok some days, and like a gaping, oozing wound on other days.  My oldest asks every other day about when we might get a picture of sister, if he can save certain toys for her, and whether I think she will like him to read to her.  He asks to watch little videos to help him learn some Mandarin.  He writes down important words he wants to remember, Mei Mei = Little Sister, Ge Ge = Older Brother.  I love his heart, but it breaks mine.

Meanwhile, we have celebrated birthdays:

We have taken peaceful vacations:

We celebrated 4th of July fishing with family and enjoying our first sparklers, courtesy of new friends:

We've also spent lots of time with wonderful friends, and enjoying the fruits of summer:

Check that out...three months worth of amazing memories.  If I can't be still, I'm going to at least be JOYFUL!  The Lord has asked us to wait, to trust that even when we can't see what He's going to do, He's already doing it.  I hope every day that today will be the last day our daughter will have to go without a family that knows who she is, a family that will cherish her, pray for her, and love her for everything she is and isn't.  Meanwhile, I am so grateful to be part of that family.

So You Think You’re a Dad?

I meant to write this post a little closer to Father’s Day, but alas, time escapes, even in the summer.   My birthday is soon, and I’m thinking about what it means to have a Birth Day.   It’s that day when you pour out into this world, and the clock is set at zero, and anything is possible.   I have wondered a lot what Little Sister’s Birth Day was like (I do really think she has been born already).  Was there a whole family there waiting?  Were there tears of joy?  Did her father wrap her up in a blanket and coo over her beautiful face?  Of course this train of thought continues right up to the idea of parenting.

I grew up with a very caring mom.  Most of the time she really had to be both a mom and a dad, and while she did it with grace, I could always see how hard it was.   The reality is, there are all kinds of parents and all kinds of families, and as long as kids have beautiful people full of strength and love in their lives, they are blessed.  As I watch my husband with my children though, I am truly touched by what it means for him to be a dad. 

You Might Be a Dad If….

1.       You’ve been peed on while changing a diaper, and lived to tell the tale.

2.       You’ve had to walk away from a small child to hide the smile on your face because what that kid just did was BAD, but it was also just too funny to contain.

3.       You’ve realized how rewarding it is to teach your child about the little things you love.

4.       You’ve sung, (possibly terribly) approximately 500 billion bed time songs.

5.       Your heart aches when your child makes a terrible choice.

6.       You have slept in a recliner with a sick child on your chest.

7.       You’ve cleaned the “Puke Bucket” and you don’t live in a frat house.

8.       You’ve stayed up way too late waiting for a child to make it home, or debating how to help them navigate this crazy life.

9.       You’ve given in, too many times, to the phrase, “one more story, please.”

10.   You have listened to a zillion slow explanations that start with “this one time…” and spent endless hours answering a zillion questions that started with, “Hey dad…”

And the list goes on.  And on.  And on.  You know if you’ve done these things.  My hubby is an absolute Superman at this list!

But the older I’ve gotten, I’ve realized there is also another list.  There is the list of “Like-a-Dads,” that is often more elite, born out of extra effort and abundant love.  This list is quite a bit more ambiguous, but you definitely know if you have done these things.  For the people who make this list, I’m truly grateful. 

You Might Be Like-a-Dad If…

1.       You have listened, endlessly, to a child, or teenager, or young adult pour their heart out because you knew that they just needed someone to listen.

2.       You told a child, or teenager, or young adult, that they could then follow their hearts, and helped them make it there.

3.       You have put someone else’s needs above your own, often with risk, because you love and value them, not out of any obligation.

4.       You taught someone to fish, to enjoy great jokes, to camp, to write a resume, to apologize, to manage their anger or just how to be themselves.

5.       You go out of your way to make someone feel special, because in your mind, they just need to see all of the incredible that they already are. 

6.       You have shared your faith with someone and it changed their life.

To Dads and Like-A-Dads, you are AWESOME!  The world cannot live without you.  For every hair that turned grey or fell out because of the beautiful love you were giving a child, you are appreciated.  

One more...you might be a Dad if you mostly let the little boys in your life blow out your birthday candles, just because it's more fun that way!

I Wrecked the Boat

It all started so innocently.  My kindergartener, thrilled at the idea of seeing the world, announced in the car, “When I grow up, I’m gonna have a boat and a camper so I can travel all over the world.”  In a six year old mind, it really is that simple.  You need something to drive on land and something to sail over water, and then you are all set to travel the Earth. 

 I could have given a standard “mmm, hmm” answer to this announcement, and it would have been better than what really happened.  After all, you and I both know that there’s no chance this kid is going to buy the aforementioned vehicles and set off into the sunset.  But no, I couldn’t leave it there.  I had to start in with the questions. 

“Well, buddy, how are you going to get your camper to the next continent if you travel there by boat?”

He had solutions.

“I guess I’m going to need to get a helicopter too, so it can deliver my camper.”

Ahhh.  Excellent problem solving.  But….

“Buddy, who is going to fly that helicopter while you sail your boat?”

Silence.

“Um, I guess I’ll hire a pilot.”

I see.

“Buddy, where will you get the money to hire a pilot?”

“Uh.  I’ll talk my brother into becoming a pilot and he’ll work for me for free.”

Truly a great plan.  [For future reference, this was where I went one step too far.]

“Who is going to pay for your brother to take flight lessons to become a pilot to fly a helicopter for you?”

 “Well, I guess, I was thinking you could.” 

By this time, this poor six year old had gone from happily day-dreaming of a beautiful carefree adventure to a slow and sad realization that maybe there were too many things to work out for this to be a reality.  This was not a proud moment for me.  I do like to get my kids to think through things.  I love to hear the way they solve problems.  I love to hear the way they dream things can be, and then try to direct them toward those things.  But that is not what happened here. 

I hijacked his beautiful adventure and infused it with my doubt, my roadblocks, and my insecurities.  The truth is that he probably could figure out how to get a camper and a boat and travel the world.  Would he need a few other things?  Sure.  Would he figure that out by himself by the time he got old enough to really consider any of this a possibility?  Yes.   

There is a difference between building into your kids by helping them see the bigger picture, and building self-doubt into your kids by never letting them be the “expert.”  If they have a dream, or a subject they are passionate about, let them “teach” you.

When in doubt, stop before you squash. 

Stop talking, stop asking, stop insisting you are right before you squash all of their enthusiasm, their confidence, or their ability to think for themselves.  Back to our travelling the world example, is it really as simple as a camper and a boat?  Sure it is.  Until you have to eat, which really is a self-limiting problem.  Let it be that simple, and be there for when it’s not.

Red Light, Green Light

We are celebrating this week.  Nearly six months to the day after we began the adoption process, we officially received a L.I.D., or logged in date!   That means that our dossier was received and logged into the system in Ch*na, so we are officially eligible to receive a match any day!  YAY!  Also, that was pretty much supersonic speed for completing a dossier for this country.  I wasn’t expecting the gift of LID until the end of June. Again, YAAAAAY!

However…..

Remember playing red light-green light as a kid?  Remember how you had to just stand there, perfectly still, until the person calling it would shout, “green light!”?  And sometimes even faster again, shout, “red light”?  Do you remember ever being frozen mid-step, with your leg quaking from the effort of trying not to fall over or move, lest you be OUT?  We’re playing the grown up version.

Red light—Fill out this paperwork.

Green light—It’s approved.

Red light—Move on to filling out the next paperwork.

Green light—Congratulations!  You’re done with paperwork!

Red light—Wait 6-8 months to hear back about your child. 

Yes, I said SIX to EIGHT months, or more, until we find out who our daughter is.  At least, that’s what we’ve been told.  Yes, it’s the don’t-hold-your-breath kind of wait.  Yet, I am HOLDING MY BREATH!  I am so ready to find out who she is.  I am so excited to know who God has chosen as my boys’ baby sister that I can’t help but stand here on quaking legs. 

I think I’m gonna have to let it go a little.  I mean, eventually, I’ll get tired.  Eventually I’ll run out of oxygen holding my breath.  I don't want to look like this by the time we get there: 

This week though, this week I’m doing it, I’m jumping up and down, taking deep breaths, shaking it out, and getting ready for our marathon wait.  Green light, bring it!