tragedy and magnitude of privilege

I found this on Pinterest -- I'm not certain of the quote's origin, but it rings so true to me, that I need to share it.

clearing out

I've been getting the itch to do some spring cleaning a bit earlier than usual this year.  I was tackling the kitchen "junk" drawer, when I found this item in the very back:

My heart sank, just a bit, and I could feel the familiar fog of grief starting to creep in.

Sadness was streaming over me, as I was reminded that I will never need to take one of these tests again, since the surgery last fall.  I thought about how appropriate the term "barren" really was, now that the lining of my uterus was removed and cauterized... depleted, empty, fruitless.

Then I felt intensely guilty as I heard Emma yawn in the next room.  I felt as if the longing I was feeling in that moment, the remembrance of the years of trying, hoping, grieving, and trying again... it was insulting to my beautiful baby, that I would ever feel regret or yearning for another, an other, child.

I have what I had always longed for - an incredible little girl, who fills our house with so much joy and completes our family. She snapped me back out of my self-indulgent moment, and gave me the strength to throw the test away, and with it the last of my guilt over not being able to sustain another life within myself.

My goal, throughout this journey - I should say *our* goal, as it is the same for The Boy as it is for me - has been to be a parent, not to biologically pass on my genes.

I don't need this test anymore, just as I don't need to be pregnant and experience childbirth to be a mother. And I absolutely do not need to feel bad about my journey to parenthood anymore.

Closure, that is what I found tonight, in the back of a kitchen junk drawer.

(which, fyi, now looks lovely and organized!)

Purpose

It's been one of those nights where I click a link in a blog post, which leads to another, and another, and then a video, an article, another blog, a Google search, several more articles, and now I'm sitting here two hours later, soaked in tears, seriously considering making some plans for my future which are very different from anything I had previously considered.

I don't think there is an appropriate emoticon for that.

three months

The time is flying by.  I need to find a way to slow everything down, to savour it and really appreciate how precious each of these moments are.  If someone out there figures this out, please let me in on the secret?

She's been home for just over two months now, but it feels as if she's been here all along. We just fit, the three of us, perfectly.

I have nicknamed her "Turtle" due to the goofy way she looked up at me, all wide-eyes and wrinkly-necked, when she was learning to move her head around on her own.  I loved cuddling her on my chest, nestled beneath my chin, and the way she would lean back and pear up at me, blinking, and smiling... my heart could barely stand it! 

So she's my Turtle, or Turtle Dovlet, or Little Missy Peanut Sauce, Emmi, EmmaLaLa, Lovey, Bean, Beansie... and so on. The poor kid is going to be so confused about her name with me as her Momma!

complete and utter joy!

Tonight we met Emma. Tomorrow is my last day at work. This weekend we must acquire all the necessities for sustaining this tiny little life.

It's difficult to grasp just how much I love her already! It's amazing!

On Monday I will become a mother.

Blerfpftrsshdnejfkdpfss...

We are meeting with a set of birth parents this afternoon, as soon as I can get off work.

I am beside myself. I am thrilled. I am terrified.

I feel like this is the most important "first date" of my entire life, and I can't properly articulate all the thoughts and emotions that are coursing through me.

I want this so badly. I am so afraid that I'm going to screw this up somehow.

My stomach is doing summersaults, and my head is swimming.

My heart is aching.

Yearning.

There is a deep, pervasive ache. A scream being stifled, just below the surface.

Wheels are spinning in place.

Time is wasting.

the next chapter

We have begun the process of (hopefully) becoming adoptive parents, officially, tonight. There is a great deal of paperwork to get through, some alarming and disheartening statistics to wade through, classes to register for, and many conversations to be had with our families.

We've been talking about the option of adoption since shortly after our wedding, almost four years ago, but it actually feels real now.

I'm feeling excited, nervous and hopeful. Mostly hopeful. Hopeful is good.