2009

As I reflect on the past year, I see so many changes, firsts, and miracles. There were downs, of course, but the up's gave off a light that obliterated any shadow. Just one more thing to be thankful for. It has been some time since my last entry. The holidays brought with them a very busy schedule that had us running. With New Years Day just around the corner I feel a rest coming on. Not the rest of old mind you, not with a mobile infant in the house, but rather something new that I've never known before. I'm a new kind of tired but wake up each day renewed in spirit. Cameron is our son and our lives have never been better!

The adoption is final (insert all manner of cheering here). Though we never truly feared that he could be taken from us, just the fact that we shared him legally with someone else always kept that thought in the back of our minds. As of November 20th Cameron's file was sealed and he now has our last name. The paragraph in the paperwork explaining all of this always chokes me up (he is hereby the son of....). He may not be our biological child but Cameron is ours. How could we feel any closer to him? How could we possibly love him more? OUR SON!

Cameron is ten months old now... WOW! He has four teeth, has started crawling, loves to walk (with help), has discovered the art of tantrum throwing but is just as quickly learning boundaries. Cameron had his first high fever, a result of traveling, teething, and a lack of sleep due to the excitement of visiting family. With this he ate no more than his required bottle and even turned away his beloved Mum Mum Cookie. Though I have worked in the childcare field for most of my working years, when it came to a child's illness I always sent them home to their parents to get better. Caring for a sick baby is new territory for me and, admittedly, I cried. That admission has brought me many congratulatory remarks from other moms. "Welcome to motherhood," they have all cheered.

I still have a lot to learn. For instance, I was very excited about celebrating Cameron's first Christmas. The morning arrived and with it came the anticipation of watching him play in the paper and smiling with wonder at the new things around him. What was I thinking? He isn't even a year old yet. What we got was a grumpy baby who was ready for his mid-morning nap, several smile-less photos, and a general lack of any interest in what was under the tree. Instead, Cameron took a nap while four adults opened the baby gifts. Re-energized smiles returned by evening, just in time for the traditional family photo in the leftover wrappings.

So often reality is far different than what my mind tends to conger up. My imagination can be a wee bit too active. I'm not complaining though. The reality that God has blessed me with has me more thankful that I can express. 2009 has been an amazing year! All I can do is stay focused on the gifts in front of me and leave tomorrow up to the One who gave me such an amazing here and now. Besides, I have enough to keep me busy this moment without worrying or daydreaming about what will be. For example...

The house needs some baby-proofing. Who sells the outlet covers I've heard about? Which table foods will give the little one a rash? Why is it always their head that gets the first bump or bruise (the new compresses went into the freezer last night)? Why do they insist on eating the most microscopic piece of anything they find on the floor? It's true that when things are too quiet the child is up to something they shouldn't be. Who taught them how to have an attitude? Developing the "Mommy Face and Tone" really works wonders. Running errands requires a whole lot more prep time, we never get anywhere fast. What am I supposed to do during the first public meltdown? He didn't come with an instruction manual but I think we are figuring things out.

And that is just to name a few. WHEW!

Busy Little Bee

All of the special dates during the first year of a child's life (holidays, church events, milestones, etc) are not for the baby. No, they are for the parents. Throw in parents who waited almost six years for a child and were on the brink of accepting that it would never happen and you now have two adults celebrating every moment as if it was HUGE. Cameron could care less as long as he has someone to snuggle with and something to put in his mouth. For Chris and I, this first year with our son is one celebration after another. We just can't get enough.

Holidays have been, well, just another day in our household for too long. Take me for example. I've always LOVED Christmas. The music, the twinkle lights, decorations, the whole thing. Love it! But over the last few years Christmas has lost it's sparkle. I could barely force myself to pull out decorations and even then they sat on the floor until it was just too late to do anything with them. Christmas Tree shopping was another check mark on my To Do List. The day has come and gone with half-hearted smiles and a feeling of relief when it was over and life could get back to normal. So NOT me. It was a mind set. For us, Christmas was about celebrating Christ's birth (and all the trimmings) with a child. If I was ever going to enjoy the holiday again I needed to change the way I thought. That is exactly what Chris and I were contemplating when Cameron came along. Now, everything is fresh and new and we can hardly contain our excitement.

In preparation for Halloween, a dear friend of ours handed down the cutest bee costume for Cameron. It was a little big but very wearable and wear it he did... twice. Our church usually encourages appropriate costumes the Sunday before. Kids come all decked out as well as quite a few adults. Chris and I have never participated. For me it felt like, "Why bother." But this year I was all set. I purchased a black mullet wig for Hubby along with a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and for me a bright purple bob wig along with a Scooby-Doo shirt. Wouldn't it figure that this was the first year in ages that adults were not to dress up as we were having a special service in a park with a more formal tone than a costume would allow. Kids could dress up though and so Cameron got to make his big debut as the cutest bee I've ever seen. He never fussed once or tried to wiggle out of his get-up. In fact, he was more interested in the elephant costume of a fellow baby. Too cute.

On Halloween night we joined our friends (who gifted the bee costume) for some Trick-or-Treating in their neighborhood (and debut our own get-ups). For their youngest, as with Cameron, it was the first experience of this kind. The weather was great, there were lots of folks out going door to door, and the conversation was fun. Cameron slept through a good portion of it however, but we'll be able to tell him all about it when he is old enough. Like I said, his first experience was really for our own benefit and we had a blast.

Since that fun filled week, Cameron has taken to playing on Daddy's drums, banging on the piano, cutting his second tooth (bottom front right), taste testing more and more of our grown-up food, sitting in an overwhelming pile of leaves in the backyard, sleeping twelve hours every night, tasting and loving diluted juice, tasting (by Mommy's mistake) scrambled eggs which resulted in his first allergy rash, and not reacting to the multitude of kisses we bestow on him on a daily basis because to him they must be as natural as the blinking of an eye. Throw in an overactive camera and video recorder and you have every day life in our home.

Cameron is doing what an almost nine month old should be doing while Chris and I are soaking up his life with as much excitement and enthusiasm as we can handle. There is so much joy within us that it often feels like our chests will explode from the fullness of it. On a regular basis we lose ourselves completely in the innocent giggles of our son. God wrapped so many pure and wonderful things into this tiny (but growing) package and we are in amazement of it every day. I mean.... WOW!

So to all the celebrations yet to come, we thank you Lord for this most precious gift and eagerly await the celebration of your birthday like we have never celebrated it before. We hope your gift to us will be just as much of a gift to you.

Love, Cameron's Family!

Meet Me At The Fair

Last Sunday was a first for the whole family... the State Fair. Chris and I had not gone on this kind of outing since we were "just friends" without a clue we would end up in love and married. So there we were all these years later and with our son. Not only a first for Chris and I as husband and wife but also our first outing of this type as a family. It made the whole experience... special.

The weather could not have been more beautiful. Though the temperatures have been dropping enough to make for chills and goosebumps, the sun came out in its Autumn glory and warmed up a blue sky. The air was perfect for an outdoor excursion. Traffic was being handled like a well tuned symphony (kudos to our guys in uniform). And even though tractor-pulled trailers transported us from the far out field where our car was left to wait, we chose to enjoy the walk back even after spending five hours eating, playing, picture taking, and rides. It was a good day.

Cameron doesn't care for heat too much, spoiled by AC and all. The only photographic evidence we have of this was taken by the park staff, a gift we payed $11 for upon our exit (a bit high for a key chain, I know, but OH that face, I can't resist that little boys face). That is what we get for forgetting the camera. OY! Still, my memory of the day is fresh and filled with firsts.

We were not in the park for long when a good friend we had not seen in a while approached with arms open wide for a great big hug. Her name is Kim and we used to be in drama together at church. A couple of years ago she was diagnosed with breast cancer. One of those "you have got to be kidding kind" because she was one of the healthiest people I knew. Her family found another church that fit all of their personalities and so contact became few and far between. But there she was at the Fair looking great. What sticks out the most though about our reunion is something that she said. She is still battling cancer and had lost a friend to the disease just days before. So before we parted ways, she gave us all an extra special hug and very clearly told us that she loved us. This was followed by the statement, "You never know when it will be your last chance to tell someone you care." May I never forget such words!

After Kim and her family went off to enjoy the festivities, we too began to explore. Chris happily bought a day pass for the rides while I just passed on the rides all together in order to introduce our son to the sights and sounds of people having fun, including watching Daddy whoop it up while being spun high up in the air. The first ride, though, went to Cameron. Not only the first ride of the day but Cameron's first ride period. Daddy and Son enjoyed the magic of the Carousel. With my cell phone I caught what images I could and loved every minute of it. Chris was beaming like the proud Papa he is and Cameron, though never smiling, soaked it all in and had fun. We were so proud.

Another first (and a Fair must) was the funnel cake. While Chris was being spun high up in the air, as previously stated, Cameron and I indulged in a bad-for-us goodness. He was only allowed a few bites but the vote was clear... funnel cake ROCKS. Because Chris was intent on trying all the daredevil rides, he too only allowed himself a sample of the fried and powered sugared dough leaving Mama with the rest. That, plus an ice cream cone later on, made for an unhappy tummy for me but HEY it was the Fair and that is what you are supposed to do!

As Chris finished his final ride, Cameron settled down for a nap and never has a nap looked more comfortable. As he laid back in his stroller, right arm propped behind his head, and one foot up on the stroller dash we snapped photos, again on my cell, and quickly texted them to family. Cameron was the image of "Ah, this is the life."

We didn't see any animals and we only saw but a small section of all that the park offered but we figured that would be for another year, when Cameron is a bit older and more able to appreciate it. As for this trip, well, it was for Mama and Papa. It was a great family event to share though we have got to STOP forgetting the camera!

Now you would think that was the end of the story. Family goes to their first Fair, turns their stomachs on the rides, eats junk food, buys overpriced memorabilia, and goes home happy. Now all of that is true but there was one more first waiting for us, one that Cameron kept hidden until bedtime. There we were going through the nighttime routine with baby on the changing table, Daddy changing the diaper, Mommy brushing the gums, BUT WAIT, not just gums... a tooth. Yes, Cameron has cut his first tooth, lower left of center. We were so excited and, well, shocked. We had heard from several people the effects teething can have on a usually happy baby. For a first tooth, this one came in under the radar and capped off an already wonderful day. Good work little one!

We don't need no stinkin toys!

There are those ironic subjects in life that people discuss and laugh about because they are so stereotypically true. When you drop the piece of bread you are spreading your favorite jelly on, it will hit the floor jelly side first. The day after an appliance warranty runs out is when the appliance will break down. When there is money in your pocket to buy some new clothes, you won't be able to find a single good thing to try on or buy BUT when you're broke.... every outfit you see is the one that got away. I do believe Alanis Morissette wrote a song about such things.

I've heard parents of every age talk about the toys they searched long and hard for only to have their child be more interested in the box the toy came in than the toy itself. I can now claim this truth for myself. It isn't as if Cameron, who is seven months old, has a lot of toys. How many play things could he possibly need? What few he has, though, are already boring and can only hold his attention for short periods of time. Baby version of "been there, done that." So today I searched out those items that seem to capture his desires most of all... the mommy and daddy tools that "are not for little kids." Yea, right!

Today I put "his" toys back in their little bag and set it aside. Instead, he got a tippy cup filled with a touch of water, a small plastic bowl (with lid) containing a couple of cheerios, a wooden spoon, and a rubber spatula. You would have thought he had just found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Such smiles. Such adulation. "Thank you Mother for giving me the cool things."

So here we sit, I at the computer and he on the floor beside me with his forbidden treasures. Rockin Robin from the "You've Got Mail" soundtrack has my foot tapping and Cameron has his serious face on as he studies every minuscule detail of his new delights. The sun is shining, the back door is open letting in fresh air, and the wooden spoon just became the drum stick to the cheerio bowl's cool thumping sound.

The simple things in life are good. Now if we grown ups could figure out the not so simple things of life like mean people, spies, tattle tales, and thankless endeavors. Really, how hard could it be? Everything should be as simple as a rubber spatula and as mesmerizing as a bowl of dry cereal. Alas, the innocence of babyhood is fleeting.

Penny's From Heaven

With every season there are new adventures to have as well as new trials to overcome. Adoption is one of those ever changing seasons that give the would-be parents something to grow in, learn from, adjust to and so on. But there is one constant that remains the same no matter what... money. Forget the worry about how much a child will cost once they are born... in adoption the wallet is being drained long before. There are so many requirements, musts, have to's and what not's that must be met otherwise hopeful moms and dads cannot advance to the next phase. And just when you think the wallet will get a break... there is always one more thing.

Going into adoption, at least within our state, there is a required class that all parents must take even if it is the twelfth adoption for that family. There is a fee. Then there are all the legal documents that verify that you are not a predator or pervert (very good things). There is a fee. Nickle and dime opportunities that must be met or the case is stalled. The longer the stall the more likely the chance that the time limit runs out on certain documents and thus you have to go back and repay in order to restart the process. Every step is understandable given that the best interest is in the love and well being of a baby. To meet that need there are lots of people involved and, as is true of many important things in life, very little is done for free. People have to be payed... they have families of their own to care for.

Then there is the final adoption payment. This is the grand-daddy of all bills. Families can take out loans, ask their kin for help, host a raffle or whatever creative means it takes to come up with the final payment. But even with that "paid in full" stamp of approval in the official file, that is still not the end. You see, once the baby is placed with their forever family, that family has six months to bond and make sure that the fit is a good one before making everything legal in the eyes of the law. At the sixth month mark that is when the family seeks out an adoption attorney who will represent the family in court until every "T" has been crossed and every "I" has a dot. I've never come close to making per hour what lawyers make. I mean... WOW!

With the attorney fee also comes the final state processing fees for this, that and the other. In the end, what was spent on adoption could very easily have payed for the child's first and possibly second year of college.

Chris and I are so thankful for the opportunity to call Cameron our son. In truth, this blog is the first time I've even thought about the money... with the exception of the lawyer fee. You see, we are just days away from the six month mark. The attorney has been hired and the clock is ticking on her meter. Even then, I don't care about the cost... most of the time. I wouldn't be human if I didn't cringe a little at our dwindling savings account and the fact that, now I am a stay-at-home Mom, there is no extra money coming in to replenish what is being spent. God has blessed us so much in this amazing adventure. As I reflect, all I can honestly do is give glory to God because his signature is over every detail.

Will we eventually adopt again? At some point in the not too distant future we would love for Cameron to have a little sister or brother. So I will try not to panic about the finances, the "how in the world," or the "it just costs too much" words of panic. If this is to be our route again, God will provide. How do I know? Well, because He already did. I can't explain this past year any better than that. And oh how we will celebrate once the adoption is completed. With the money we'll save from adoption we'll be able to pay for diapers, formula, clothes, classes, toys, trips, outings, food, opportunities, medical, dental, sports, recreation, hobbies, education, more food, more clothes, etc...

You know... we may be broke for the next 20 or so years but we wouldn't change a thing. Money aside, this is the best adventure either of us have ever been on and we have Cameron to share every moment of it with. That is priceless!

"Ah Ha" Moment

This weekend has been a complete opposite of the last one. If one was dark, the other was light. If one was sorrow, the other was joy. For once I won't go into too many details. What I want to recognize will be stated briefly and with heart-felt respect. It may not make sense to many but will be completely understood by a few. It is to them I write.

As a new Mom I am discovering previously unknown things about myself... some of which have caught me off guard. The love I feel for Cameron is sometimes so overwhelming that I am sure God must have put checks and balances within me so that I don't explode with the emotion. In those moments... only tears escape. I cannot imagine life anymore without this most precious gift. How was I ever whole before Chris or before our son came into my life? It is that intensity that stops me in my tracks, uncertain as to how to proceed.

Last weekend my mind and my heart battled. Chris went to Texas to visit family and I could not go. With our one-income status and a parrot without a sitter, it was obvious and fine for me to stay behind. Fine, that is, until Cameron was scheduled to go too. My mind said that it was not a problem. It said that Chris would take good care of him. It reminded me that family would love to see him and that it would be selfish of me not to let him go. My heart though... how it began to panic. Not that I didn't trust Chris. It was never about that. It was about not being within sight and sound of my five month old. After all, Texas is a long way from home.

Before they even left, just the thought of their absence brought me to tears. How I dreaded the date of departure. My mind said, "Stop being so emotional!" My heart said, "How can you let him go?" When Chris and Cameron walked through the security line and beyond my view the tears flowed. I spent four days hiding from the world so as to avoid the question, "Where's your son?" Would they think I was an over-emotional female or sympathize with my struggle? I didn't want to find out. My comfort came in the form of pizza, ice cream, whispers to Heaven, and absolute solitude. I shut down the emotional outpouring and became like stone. That was better than being weepy all the time. Even now I cannot decide if how I felt was acceptably normal or over the top. I'll take a cue from Scarlet O'Hara and promise to think about it another day... maybe.

My "ah ha" moment came in understanding someone who I think, after all these years, was relieved to have me understand. The look in their eyes, the expression on their face, the tone of their voice... it all came rushing back to me. What I once wondered "why" at, I finally got. I am not the first nor the last person to deal with the emotions that threaten to overwhelm. To finally comprehend those memories, though, only draws me closer to those I love. To you I say, "I understand now. I had no idea."

Chris and Cameron got home safe and sound. My greeting of them was as it was upon their departure... tearful. I came back to myself over the next few days, a point my Husband was happy to point out. His patience with me is abundant. However, I don't think any future trips will be taken without me. One day, maybe, I'll appreciate the "temporary" solitude. For now,though, home is where the heart is and home is where it will stay.

If I'd Known Then

Growing up as the first child and a girl to boot (in a family where the babies were predominantly male) I became very much adapted to a life of being spoiled. For the first three years of my life my Mother wondered if she had created a monster. I don't remember those days but for one vague memory in which I barricaded my bedroom door with all my toys as well as my child sized table and chairs. This happened at my parent's first house so I couldn't have been more than two. The story goes, though, that when I turned three I became an angel. At least that is what I've been told. Now I am sure that I made my share of mistakes and threw my allowance of tantrums as I grew but, from my point of view anyway, I was a pretty good kid. Not to say that the spoiling had stopped. Spoiled, after all, doesn't' always equal bad.

Life has had its share of highs and lows but that is true of anybody. What I reflect upon now, however, is that I always came through situations loving someone more or feeling stronger within myself. I have no doubt that there are plenty more roller coaster rides to go on and can only hope that what I have learned up to this point will help me achieve and overcome. Even now though, as the mature adult that I am (hee hee), I still feel spoiled. Not just by my family or my Husband... but in life. God has been truly good to me even if life has thrown some major curve balls.

When someone is spoiled they tend to 'just know' that things will go their way. Now add rotten to the end of that original word and the results could be catastrophic where others are concerned. But spoiled alone can be a good thing. The person who suffers this particular affliction is more optimistic, seeing the glass half full, always believing in the silver lining. So when life gets a bit unfair, it can hurt.... a lot. But once through it, and when the light is shining once more, it is easy to remember the good things and to see the blessings for what they are.

I am spoiled. Touched by life's hurts and wounds.... changed by them even.... but underneath it all I still believe in miracles. When my brother Trevor passed away it was crushing. But I KNOW I'll see him again in Heaven. I even got a sneak peek (but that is another story). When I was still single at 28 with no prospects, I wondered what was wrong with me. In the end though I met and married the most wonderful man. When year after year went by with no sign of children I began to fear faith.... the loss of dreams hurt too much. But now I am a Mother (ahhhh) to a beautiful baby boy. That is the point of this particular blog.... a story that is real and our own family miracle.

In January of 2008 I was going through one of the worst times in our infertility.... verbally admitting that it may never happen for us. Saying it out loud was gut wrenching. I was grieving, angry even. The cold and lonely hand of depression pressing down on my heart. So when I sat in a staff meeting at work (I was a church secretary) and we were asked to say a prayer out loud for someone, I admit that I was not in the mood. I was too into my own private despair. But, I knew better. When my turn came, I lifted up a gentleman I had bumped into at the store over the holidays. He seemed like he needed a prayerful uplifting. But that was not the end.... two people down from me was a petite woman who was and is a biblical powerhouse. If anyone had a direct line to the man upstairs it was her. When it came time for her to speak her words were, surprisingly, for me. What she said went something like this, "When I heard Carina pray, I felt in my spirit that there was something she needed to hear. I don't know what it means but she needs to know that 2008 is the year.... 2008." At the time, the woman of God did not know my story. Tears filled my eyes but my heart felt skeptical. Still, I wrote 2008 on a sticky note and put it on my computer where I would see it every day of the work week.

Every day turned into a year and finally 2009 was upon us with no children to show for it (which is what I took "2008 is the year" to mean). As I took the note off my computer and crumpled it up for the garbage can I felt the disappointment I had feared. Not to the full extent, admittedly, as I had not fully jumped into the river with both feet. Come to find out, the God fearing woman who gave the prophetic statement was confused too. We both were thinking, "Why didn't anything happen?" Two months later, God filled us in on the story.

You see, God can see the whole picture.... even the parts before the beginning and well beyond the end. Back in January of 2008 He was letting me know that Cameron was on his way. He was conceived later that spring and was born the next year. One month after that we brought him home with us. Now that is a miracle in my book. I am sure there are those out there that would say it is all coincidence. But to me, God is just a very good and creative storyteller. Despite any hardships I must face, He can be the author of my life story anytime.

Something Good

As I review my blogs from the past few years, remembering my ups and downs, reliving the good times along with the bad, I realize that something is missing. This blog is my journey through unexplained infertility and the adventure of adoption. So, of course, it is all about my thoughts and feelings. But I was not alone in any of this and how thankful I am for that. No, I had a wonderful partner by my side who was strong when I was weak, who held his tears for when he wasn't wiping away mine, whose hope in the possibilities outlived my very own. If it were not for my wonderful Husband, my life would be quite different... less full and very lonely. This small token of my love and affection is for Chris.

Because of my shyness I have often found myself avoiding social situations. If not for my dear friend Susan (and, for that matter, Chris' friend Garth), I may never have met the man I would marry. Eight years ago Susan assured me I would have fun at a gathering called "The Farm." It was Cheers in the flesh with the ping pong and Foosball replacing alcohol. Everybody knew your name and for those who didn't it mattered not. People were just happy to see you and have you around. It was at The Farm that I met Chris. We sat on the same couch, chatting easily. Stars did not sparkle in our eyes and the world did not come to a sudden stop. We were friends... social buddies. But that was in June. By December things were different.

Chris and I had been paired up to swing dance in the Christmas show at my church. He was an excellent lead to my not so excellent following. And could he talk! In fact, that was one of his major talents... conversation. This worked out great for me because I am a listener. What I lack in verbal skills I make up for in rapt attention. So it was when Chris got quiet that I realized something was about to change. For the first time in my life I was ready. For years I had kept men at a distance all the while hoping that "the one" would break down my defenses. God paved the way ever so quietly. When Chris invited me to join him at his company's Christmas party, he was shocked at how quickly and easily I said yes. The walls were gone.

On Friday, December 21st we went on our first date. On Saturday, December 21st of the following year, we said "I Do." Ours was a Christmas wedding filled with reds and greens and lots of twinkle lights. Friends and family gathered to witness our vows. We were both amazed at the reality of our decision when the pastor introduced us as Mr and Mrs for the very first time. Talk about a waking dream. It was a very good day.

As days turned to weeks turned to months turned to years we grew in our relationship. We settled into marriage and dealt easily with the the quirks that rarely are seen during the courtship. In him I have found a rare jewel. Marriage is like holding a very clear-glassed mirror before your face revealing the truest nature of you. In that mirror I saw my flaws, foibles, and not so pleasant parts of me. And still this man looks at me every day with an amazing love saying that it is I who has the harder job. He looks and not just says that he finds me beautiful. After a restless night of sleep with hair poking in every direction, circles under my makeup-less eyes and morning breath to boot, his eyes never lie. I will always wonder at how that is.

I've only seen Chris cry a couple of times and always concerning our struggle for children. How much he longed to be a Dad. In the secrets of my mind I faced those moments when I thought it best if he divorced me so that he could remarry and have the children of his dreams. I wouldn't have faulted him. I never mentioned it to him... I know he would not have had any of it. Despite my inabilities he loved me still. He faced our emptiness with a boldness I could not always muster and we got pretty good at pretending that the silence where children's laughter should have been wasn't deafening.

Then came the phone call... we had a son. Chris jumped for joy just as he had done the day I said I would marry him. He held me in his arms and swung me around so that my feet left the ground. The pure joy on his face when he got to tell his best friend the news brought tears to my eyes. "I'm going to be a Dad!" I wonder if he had ever practiced those lines in the hopes that one day he would say them for real? They sure sounded good when he did!

Cameron has been with us for four months now. Whenever he snuggles with Chris, I see wonder come over Daddy's face. When he smiles at Chris, Daddy's smile grows ten times larger. On Father's Day it was Chris' time to celebrate. At last I got to see tears of joy in those wonderful eyes.

So Chris, this is from me to you. Thank you for... well, everything. My life is richer and brighter because God placed you in it. To my wonderful Husband I say, "I love you. You are wonderful!"

"For here you are standing there loving me, whether or not you should, so somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good." (Sound of Music)

Cam Day

The day we met Cameron was like no other. As I reflect upon it now it is like looking through a tunnel. My memories are narrowed down to very specific facts while all the little details are faded and out of focus.

It was a Tuesday morning. My stomach was tied into knots which meant that food was not a workable option. Chris, on the other hand, seemed as carefree as could be. Not to say that he wasn't in "pinch-me mode" but he was carrying it off better than I was. When it was time to leave it was understood, if not spoken, that we would never return to our house in the same way again. Everything was about to change.

On the way to the agency we had to pull over because some unimportant part on the underside of the car decided to come loose. Some greasy hands and dusty knees later we were back on the road... my stomach growing tighter and tighter. Despite the small set-back we arrived early so Chris, whose stomach was the opposite of mine, grabbed a quick bite to eat at a Burger King across the street. Change was within walking distance and I had no idea how to cope with the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm me.

The agency office was clean and strangely quiet. We talked to the secretary and two case workers. Awkward is a good way to describe the moment. How do you make small talk when a child is about to be given over to you? Next we were taken down a long hallway to a small room that had a desk, some low sitting chairs, a lamp, and a book shelf. Chris pulled out the video recorder and asked how I was doing. When the tears began to rise I asked him to put the recorder away. For some reason it was important to me to look more calm than I was actually feeling. As a distraction we looked at a book that chronicled Normal Rockwell's life and work. That kept us occupied until the case workers were ready to have us sign pages of paperwork.

After an hour's time we finally heard the words we had been waiting for, "The Foster Family is here and your son is in the other room. Are you ready to meet him?" We walked back down the long hallway, into the clean and very quiet office, took a right and saw the door we were to walk through. With all eyes upon us, we stepped breathlessly through the doorway and beheld our son for the very first time. There he was in the Foster Mom's arms, drinking a bottle and talking between gulps (a signature move of his even to this day). He was so small and had such curly hair. Everything in the room faded away as Chris and I sat on the couch and saw only him. What an exquisitely weird moment. When he was handed to me I forgot all about my nervous belly, the eyes that were watching us, the past, the future, everything. All that existed was this tiny baby who was looking at us. What an adventure he had already been on. Birth, foster care, and now us. Did he wonder what could possibly happen to him next?

After we were given a few moments alone with our new son the Placement Ceremony, as it is called, began. The case worker shared with us Cameron's history (as given by the birth mom). The foster family shared his schedule and details of his doctor's appointments. Bible verses were given to each person in the room to read as their turn came. For some reason I was not given one, which was fine with me, because I knew the moment I read about God's promises regarding children I would get too choked up to speak anyway. Chris read twice instead. There was a time of prayer followed by some finger foods and photo opportunities.

Before we knew it, the ceremony was over and it was time to head home. I changed Cameron's diaper for the first time and then Chris and I tried to look like we knew what we were doing as we placed and buckled him into the infant car seat. The weirdest part, though, was that nobody followed us out of the office when we left. We kept waiting for someone to run after us and say that that was as far as we could go. Were they really just going to let us drive away with this three and a half week old baby?

Drive away we did with Chris behind the wheel and me buckled-in next to Cameron in the back seat. Cell phone pictures were immediately sent by text to family. Chris and I kept glancing at one another in the rear view mirror. We didn't know what to say or think. Reality was having a difficult time settling in despite its... well, reality.

A couple of stops had to be made before taking our son home. First there was Target so as to purchase some bottles and formula. Next some Chipotle-to-go because now we (especially me) were starving! The time between the bottle Cameron had that morning and the next required feeding was running out quickly. In fact, by the time we got home this new little child of ours was crying passionately. The look on Chris' face was priceless as he held his unhappy son. He was so worried that we were making a horrible first impression. The bottles had to be boiled though which took time. It was all I could do to convince Chris (and me) that Cameron would be just fine. In the end the bottles were cleaned, filled, and happily accepted. Tears were replaced with contended gulps and the new parents sighed with relief.

Chris and I spent the remainder of that first day staring at the little miracle who now called our house home. Many pictures were taken, uploaded, and then emailed to family and friends who were eagerly waiting for them. We had no routine, barely had infant items set-up, and no idea what to do from one moment to the next. Cameron didn't seem to mind, thankfully, as long as he could sleep, eat, and have a clean diaper. He had already spent three and a half weeks training the foster family and now he had to start over with us. He had his work cut out for him.

All children have the exciting opportunity to celebrate their birthday once a year. For Cameron there will be a few added celebrations. With apologies to St. Patrick, March 17th will forever mark Cam Day (that most amazing first meeting). Later on down the road there will also be the day when the adoption becomes official in the eyes of the courts.

Chris and I had hoped that 2009 would be a good year... how small our imaginations were. We are truly humbled by this amazing opportunity and beyond words thankful.

Labor Pains

Adoption can be a funny thing. Like in those moments when I meet someone who hasn't seen me in a few weeks or months and suddenly there I am with a baby in my arms. I rather enjoy watching this "look" that comes over the person's face as they try to put two and two together. You can see the questions racing through their minds... "Have I really not seen her in nine months? If that is true, her figure sure looks good for having carried a developing child." I laugh every time. But often there is another look that follows when I mention that we adopted. A kind of deer in the headlights expression. I've never asked why and I am sure there are plenty of answers out there. For others, though, it is an overjoyed pleasure to finally meet the child who was long hoped for and dreamed of.

Infertility knocked us for a loop. Couples start off with this innocent "it could never happen to us" mentality and then weeks turn to months, months to years, and years to... despair. The walls that go up around the heart are both painful and necessary. Now that I can let down those walls it is taking much more work than it did to construct them in the first place. I've lost the ability to dream innocently. The reality that nothing is a certainty is blatantly real. My faith struggles more than it ever did... my hope is overshadowed often by doubts... my dreams are kept detached so that no emotion is actually associated with them. Facts have settled in where once frivolous ideals once roamed freely with encouragement.

I may never know what it is like to get pregnant and feel a life grow within me. I may never be able to see my Husband's eyes or my dimples in our biological child's face. There are up-sides though. I may never have stretch marks. I may never have to know what giving birth is like. But labor I have known, if not in the literal sense. Instead of a number of hours of physical pain as a child enters into the world, my pains have lasted five and a half years. First there was the "hmmm, something is happening" thought. And then with every test, every treatment, every prayer, and every disappointment the pains grew until they were nearly unbearable. It grew harder and harder not to cry, scream, and lash out in agony. Finally I begged for the emotional epidural. That came in the form of a mental box in which all experiences and emotions were locked into and then buried deep, deep within me. I had the knowledge of what was happening but the pain was kept at bay so that I could function once again.

That box may always exist and, unless truly necessary, will be kept locked. Adoption hasn't removed those pains but I have to admit that it has taken my focus away from them. Most days now, even though I am only a couple months in, I forget all about the box. My joy has been regained in a beautiful baby boy that came into my life in a most unexpected way. I may not have gotten my dreams in the form I had hoped for but I got them just the same. I still battle momentary hurts from time to time when news around me catches me off guard. I feel guilty for that. I blame it on years of practice. I hope they too, like the box, are one day forgotten to the dust of time.

A dear friend of mine asked if I would be changing the name of this blog. I had intended to keep it since infertility is still my burden to bear. As I thought more about it though I have to agree that the time has come to make some changes. Upon my next entry I will officially change the name to (drum role please) "Love, Marriage... Adopting the Baby Carriage." A new adventure is before me and one that I will embrace as much as I can.

Thank you Lord for this blessed opportunity!

At Last!

Have you ever worked so hard to guard yourself from something that when it came time to let down the walls, a battle between your heart and mind ensued? For the last five and a half years Chris and I have slowly but surely built our defenses against the pain of infertility by blocking any related emotions. We couldn't go about our everyday lives fighting back tears and heartache.... life had to go on. So we did what we had to do in order to face each day with not only a brave face but an unreachable heart where children were concerned. After all those years of practice though, it has been difficult to accept the changes.... even though the changes are really, really good.

While on our cruise we actually had to practice saying "our son" out loud and had to push our feet forward when it came to entering a children's clothing shop in one port. Since bringing our son home we have had to remind ourselves that we aren't babysitting and that nobody is going to come and take him away. You see, our hearts are willing to go there (as the heart often is when it comes to loving and experiencing the joys of life). What is getting in the way is our brains. It is that part of us that keeps calling us to check... "Are you sure you want to go there? Remember, it hurts when you go in that direction. Are you sure you want to say that out loud? You risk it being taken away and feeling all the worse for it. Are you sure? Are you sure? Are you sure?"

Cameron has been with us for over seven weeks now and still we feel the need to pinch one another. The battle between the head and heart rages on. For the first time though, we find ourselves cautiously tiptoeing over the line of fear. Our son is real... he isn't going anywhere... and yes, we can explore toy departments, childen's clothing sections and even call ourselves "Mommy" and "Daddy" without fearing that a lighting bolt will strike our happiness away. What a glorious awakening!

As many "firsts" as Cameron is having, Chris and I are having just as many. Yesterday marked a milestone for one of my firsts... Mother's Day. Before our child planning years Chris and I celebrated Mother's Day for the sheer enjoyment of putting our own Mom's on a pedestal and saying "Thank You" for all that they had done. God has blessed us both with great Moms. However, as infertility plagued our relationship, the celebration of Mother's Day changed. The purpose was still the same but we battled our own hurts. We wished our Mom's and friends and anyone who crossed our paths a happy day all the while hiding the tears in our eyes and the overwhelming and growing ache in our hearts. We never missed church on or around Mother's Day even though I found myself forcing back tears the entire service. Our church tried to be gentle by not only celebrating Mother's but also women in general. Still, that selfishly powerful pain kept making it all about my loss. Some friends who also have battled infertility chose to stay home rather than face that battle again... I can't say that I blamed them.

So there I was yesterday in the same church I've been in for years, with the same people I've called friends for some time now, celebrating the same day that has both thrilled and tortured me. Only, on this occasion I was (gulp) a Mom. For the first time, Chris and I beamed and soaked up every well wisher's wish. At last (our Etta James theme in life) it was our turn. Because of our beautiful baby boy I was able to join the ranks of motherhood. Because of his birth mommies brave sacrifice, my dreams were allowed to come true. How amazed I am even now as I write this.

During the service a video was played about a mother's love. I found myself fighting back tears. Not the selfish tears of old but the familiar tears for my sisters in life who have not yet won the battle. My heart ached alongside theirs as another Mother's Day brought familiar hurts their way once again. How I pray all the more fervently for them now... Lord, please take their sadness away.

And so here I sit knowing where I came from only weeks ago and seeing where I'm now allowed to go because of my son and my heart and mind continue to battle. The heart is winning but, admittedly, I hope the mind doesn't stop pestering me all together. May my prayers be faithful daily for those whose arms are still empty and may I appreciate daily this gift that keeps my arms full and warm.

At Last!

God's Sense of Humor

As a Christian, faith has always played a major part in my life. Sometimes I am pretty good at it while other times I can't muster up enough of the stuff to equal a mustard seed. I figure God must sit up in Heaven shaking His head wondering why He didn't build a few more "patience" cells into our human DNA. Instead, I imagine, He listens to complaints, frustrations, hurts and outright rants knowing full well the when's and the how's but keeping them to Himself for reasons only He knows. Most of these seemingly unanswered prayers aren't problem makers but there are a few that make us truly question what God is or is not up to. That must be where His grace comes in.

Over the past five and a half years God has shown me A LOT of grace. When Chris and I started trying for children it was easy to believe that IT would happen. After a year went by with no success we were a tad concerned but knew that, despite the fertility test or ever faithful cycle, pregnancy was a certainty. Fast forward to last month and you'll see a very different picture. My Husband and I have been balancing precariously atop the narrow fence of faith upon which we walk. Falling to one side equaled unquestionable belief that our dreams would come true one way or another while a tilt in the other direction meant letting go and giving up forever. In all honesty, the belief side of the fence has been getting farther and farther away as our balance has teetered towards doubt and reluctant acceptance. One night we finally discussed the possibility that our life might equal two and no more. Everything we planned or dreamed of always included us multiplied so to think of us as only two was a tough reality to swallow. Nerves became raw and our honesty with God was... well, honest.

This is where that God humor thing comes in. Chris and I joke that the big man upstairs must revel in that moment when the answer to a prayer becomes reality. We can just imagine Him calling Gabriel and Michael over and saying, with a gleeful look, "Watch this!" What am I getting at? Let me fill you in on our turn of events.

Since the Summer of 08 we had been planning, along with a group of friends, a week long Western Caribbean Cruise. As THE DAY approached the anticipation became nearly tangible. The house was cleaned, the bags were carefully packed and the passports were checked and double checked. At long last our departure came and we headed south for my In-laws home. Before our vacation could begin, you see, our bird needed to get settled in with our family so that we could travel without concerns. Okay, so it takes a few hours to get there just for the sake of going on vacation but, as bird people will attest to, a happy bird is worth every inconvenience. So there we were two states away from home and literally five minutes from leaving for the airport when my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number only that the area code was from our neck of the woods. In an unusual move by me, the admitted phone freak, I went ahead and answered it. How glad I am that I did.

The call was from our adoption case worker. "You need to get Chris on the phone too," she said. That could only mean one thing and one thing only.... we had a child. She promised to send pictures to our email account, accessible through the ship's cybercafe, and to let us know via our cell phone if there were any changes, a scary possibility, during our absence. Our job otherwise was to have fun on our cruise and to think of a name for our little boy. Talk about an intense ride to the airport. Family members were called, tears fell, giggles of shock erupted. Chris and I looked at each other with "pinch me I'm dreaming" expressions on our faces. Had we heard right? Did we really have a son waiting for us back home?

After eight months of cruise preparation, something of much more significance captured our attention. Not to say that the vacation wasn't an absolute blast but I doubt many others aboard awaited the return home as eagerly as we did. HOME!!! Speaking of which, we didn't have anything at home ready for a three week old baby. When we got back into town we would have that night only to baby-ready our house because as of 10am the next morning our son (what a great sound) would be moving in. So much to do, so little time.

Those seven days in the Caribbean and the weeks that followed have given me many topics for upcoming blogs. Life has changed and, joyfully, will never be the same again. We went from a happily married couple dealing with a very present absence in our home to instant parents so overjoyed that we may never descend from the cloud upon which we now find ourselves floating.

God does have a sense of humor and I know that He and the Heavenly hosts had a moment of pure celebration when Chris and I met and then held our baby boy for the very first time. Ahhhhh... but that, my friend, is a tale for another day.

Snow Angel

All throughout childhood we plan our adulthood. We think about getting older, being able to drink alcohol legally, voting in a major election, where we'll go to college, the places we'll visit, the adventures we'll have, the age we'll be when we marry, the number of children we'll have... heck, we even have names picked out long before procreation is even remotely possible. Our youth is spent planning for the future. The popular question asked of all kids is, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" See my point?

Then there is my Grandma M. She mentioned not too long ago that she doesn't feel any different than when she was twenty. It is only when she looks in the mirror that she realizes that the packaging has changed and wonders when in the world that happened. In four and a half years I will be forty. That number freaks me out because it sounds so "old." How did I get to be that age? Just like Grandma, I don't feel any older and yet there are all these markers that say I am aging.

When I was in High School, the big accomplishment in the social scene was if a girl dated an Air Force Cadet. There these young men of military stature were in their blue uniforms looking mighty mature and adultish. A girl was really something special if she had a Cadet as a boyfriend. So what happened to my eyes? When did Cadets start looking like babies?

It seems like only yesterday that I was the teenager wearing the latest trends and paving the way in modern lingo. I don't understand the majority of today's teenage slang and (GULP) I haven't a clue as to how what they listen to even counts as music. YIKES... I'm a grown up!

I look in the fashion magazines in an attempt to try and have at least one modern outfit that doesn't reveal my 80's upbringing. The twenty year old model in the magazine makes every item of clothing look so good. How disappointed I am when I try on that same figure flattering top and curve hugging jeans only to see that one gaps here, the other pulls there and the hanger makes a better model than I do. That wasn't always so... and I'm still in relatively good physical shape. When did things start to change?

Perhaps who we really are is not what people see on the outside. The body is just the shell to the true "nut" inside (so to speak). It is forever changing while we, really, aren't. Not to say that there isn't learning, growing, and maturing going on... but the eternal teenager is still there. Our true youth hasn't changed any. We have to be the proof.

For the first time in a few years, a significant snow finally hit our town. Not this dusty, wimpy stuff that sends everyone in a panic and then melts away at suns first light. No, this was actually enough to bury the feet and land-lock the cars in the driveway. Still not the true snow of my childhood (I promise, no jokes about blizzards and walking up hills) but significant for this area. It is because of this latest snow that I know we are still kid's at heart.

With boots laced, coats zipped and gloves appropriately in place, my Husband and I headed out into the wintery scene to un-bury the cars. We did the responsible grown-up stuff like scraping off the ice, sprinkling salt onto the sidewalks, and even carefully stepping through ice patches so as not to fall and mame ourselves. It wasn't long, however, until our inner child came out to play. We threw, flung, and all together dumped snow at and onto one another resulting in wet gloves, wet clothes and snow coming to rest inside all manor of nooks and crannies. If you look out our front door right now, you will see what appears to be an angel in the middle of the yard taking a siesta. A true heavenly body? No, my Husband's youth displaying itself for all the neighbors to see. Ice patches? Gotta keep a few around for the run and slide. Extra points for going long distances in style and managing not to wipe out.

I may not be able to stop the outside of me from changing (at least not without a few bucks in the wallet and a good doctor on hand). But I hope I don't ever lose that inner youngster. There will be days when the absence of children in our home is overpowering, causing me to feel emotions that are too easy to dwell on. I hope, in those moment especially, that I stop being so grown up and act like the person I really am... young at heart and ready to play!

Freezing In Arizona.... say what?

One week ago today my Husband and I were in southern Arizona. It was a trip that we had been planning for some time... one filled with cherished family interactions and warmth (both the human affection kind and the sun in the sky kind). But despite my Grandma's insistence that I am not a jinx, I fully believe that my bragging about 80 degree weather only days before our departure sealed our fate for an unusually cold Arizona experience. Oh, the sun did peek out from time to time... when it wasn't raining (definitely not common for the desert). There was actually frost on the windows and goosebumps on the skin. I was in a turtleneck instead of shorts for goodness sake. Spirits, however, were not dampened and the memories will be added with pleasure to those of vacations past.

It has been seven years since my last journey to Arizona, a trip made in order to spend time with my Grandparents (snowbirds who head for more favorable temperatures when winter comes a calling in the Rocky Mountains). A lot has changed since that visit. Seven years ago my Husband was my first serious boyfriend, I was a teacher for Early Head Start and, well, I was seven years younger. For this visit, I am six years married, a church secretary and, well, seven years older. It doesn't feel like that much time has passed though.

To me, my grandparents will always be Hapa and Haguamp (terms of endearment I coined as an obviously creative child). To them, I will always be their ugliest Granddaughter. I've been referred to as such for as long as I can remember. You see, for the first 29 and a half years of my life, I was the ONLY granddaughter on that side of the family. So... of course, I had to be the ugliest. On the flip side, that meant that I was also the prettiest and as so many folks will attest to, the most spoiled. Thanks to the loving care of my wonderful Husband, that latter part continues today.

This time around we only had a couple of days to fit in as much as possible. We made it to Mexico and had real Mexican food (or at least as authentic as a border town can provide). We drove around and took in the sights of the snowbird populated city (a veritable ghost town in the summers), visited family and friends living in or passing through the area, ate at a delicious buffet that only a casino could provide, and sat back for quiet evenings watching the one or two channels that offered anything worth viewing. It was a much slower pace than we are generally used to but one I wouldn't trade for the world.

As with every vacation beginning, there too must be an end. The truth is, I am not good at goodbyes. There are tears on my part and more tears if I even think about having said goodbye no matter how many miles have been put between us. So, when the last photo was taken and the hugs began... so fell the inevitable tears. Grandpa just laughed and Grandma smiled. Even now I feel the pressure behind my eyes. My Husband says I have a tender heart. I just hate goodbyes.

As we drove down the highway and my thoughts were filled with images of the past couple of days, the sounds of voices echoing in my still fresh memories and the familiarity of family draping me like a warm blanket, my thoughts went in a direction that didn't help the tears. It was not a new thought, but one I've tried to face bravely before... a battle I will never win even if children do become a part of our lives.

Unlike my Husband, who lost his grandparents years ago, I had the amazing privilege of growing up in close proximity to both sets of my grandparents. I consider myself extremely blessed! I married late and despite our every effort, children have not come along. With every passing year, the dream of having my children know my grandparents is slipping away. I've lost one Grandpa already... and though I'll be able to tell my children all about him, they won't have the memories or the experiences of him. They won't remember his laughter or be able to see with their own eyes how very much he enjoyed buying jewelry for his wife. The thought of these memories ending with me sometimes hurts far worse than infertility.

Perhaps it isn't so much the struggle with infertility that takes my thoughts in such painful directions. I love my family and am thankful for the people in my life. I don't understand how people who don't believe in Heaven can handle the final goodbyes we all must face. My one comfort is that I believe I will see these dear loved ones again someday. Still, be a vacation goodbye or an eternal one, I still am not good at them and tears are a guarantee. I guess this is something we all can hope for in the end... that someone will remember us when we are gone and cry good tears.

If my vacation story came across with a slightly depressing tone, that was unintentional. None of us is guaranteed a tomorrow and sometimes I am too aware of that. Throw in my struggle with infertility and you got a bit of an overly emotional thinkaholic. I used to keep such things to myself but then came along a blog and now you too are privy to my thought processes. I doubt I am alone though in my ten degrees of separation mentality.

To wrap things up for now, I will tuck all thoughts of goodbye (past, present, or future) away and reflect on the conclusion of our freezing Arizona trip. Where one chapter ended, another began... my Husband and I miscalculated travel time and thus missed our flight home, got the full pat-down at the airport by security personnel, and had to break the news to my father-in-law (who was our final ride home) that we were being rerouted to another airport (a trip that would take him a little over an hour out of his way at midnight no less). Life is full of adventures... and for good or for bad those we love often get to be a part of them.

In March my Husband and I are going on a Caribbean cruise. For our family's sake lets hope this next adventure stays right on track.

Baby's First Squawk

Every morning there is a routine that needs to be followed, there are rules that apply throughout the day, and then there is a bed time routine that, if deterred from, usually results in a tantrum by which food is dumped on the floor. Bath time comes once a month though there is a daily spritzing. Toys that make suitable noises are bought regularly and just as quickly destroyed. Snuggle time is always appreciated until someone gets bit.

My Husband and I may not be parents in the conventional sense of the word but we still are called "Daddy" and, well, something that sounds like "Mommy." Since "m's" are impossible to pronounce it is usually only a sound I can interpret as meaning "Mommy." Our child will be twelve years old in April though she will always act like a three year old. Her room is a cage, her bathroom is a layer of newspapers and if something fits in her mouth, she will tear it to tiny unrecognizable shreds. To add a scandalous note to this little tale... I bought her when she was only seven weeks old and my Husband has only known her for the past seven years.

Paz is a Blue and Gold Macaw. I met her first by sound and then fell in love with her by sight. As my mother and I wandered the mall some years ago, a mysterious and loud sound kept coming from the pet store. When we went to investigate, we came face to face with a five week old parrot who was bald, had purple-pink veiny skin, two big feet she couldn't yet stand on and a bottom bill that was larger than her whole head. Say what you want about the brilliant beauty of birds in general, but as hatchlings... they aren't much to brag about. That didn't stop her, however, from wooing my heart. She stretched her scrawny neck out towards me, flipped her featherless wing and squawked her way into my life. Some things are just meant to be.

Over the years we have learned to read her face which, if we are paying attention, will tell us very clearly if she wants our love and affection or if she would much prefer ripping our lips off. Recognizing physical cues is a must when the child in question has a mouth that makes short work of an unshelled walnut. We've also learned, or are still learning, how to be patient. Despite her amazing vocabulary, there is plenty she can't say or adequately express. This means that in order to communicate her wants or displeasures, she will tip bowls, shred paper, squawk loudly, or do anything that, in the past, she was told not to do. If it works in her favor, it is fair game. This means that my Husband and I have to react moderately. The less drama, the less fuel for the fire.

I went into parrot parenthood without any research. I don't believe that would have stopped me from bringing her home though... some things you just have to learn by experience. For example, a book could never have told me how much I would love this creature. I never knew parrots liked to snuggle... Paz does this under my chin while making baby noises. She loves to give kisses, get kisses, make kissing sounds, and will use this auditory cue as her way of saying "Thank You" when we give her a treat she especially adores. On the flip side, however, a book could not have properly expressed how frustrating my new child could and would be. For instance, parrots like to dismantle or chew up anything that is within reach. The bolts on her first cage were constantly needing to be retightened and the perch upon which she stood ended up as toothpicks on the floor. Did you know that as a parrot moves from childhood into adulthood, their love becomes hate? She turned on me for a period of three months. I couldn't get near her without my blood being unwillingly drawn. My Husband on the other hand... let's just say that Paz redefined the meaning of goo-goo eyes. She LOVED him and HATED me. I admit... I cried.

As many parents celebrate the passing of the dreaded "teen" years, so too have we celebrated the passing of that most hormonal avian state. Our child is, for the most part and for lack of a better word, no longer insane. As long as we read her face correctly, we don't get bit. As long as we are patient, she stops bad habits. As long as we plan ahead, nothing gets destroyed. And as long as we pay attention, we have a companion who will seek us out for quality family time.

We still look forward to having human children of our own. As we see it, they will only add to our numbers. Paz is here to stay and will most likely outlive us (her life span being 75 plus years). Hopefully the children we only dream about now will one day fight over who gets to care for the bird. Let's also hope that the bird loves them too. Until then, though, I am being summoned for some of that quality family interaction. Nine of her stuffed animals lay on the floor in front of her cage as she stares expectantly at me to join her in a game of toss. Ten points for me if I can get her to squawk. Twenty for her if I'm the one making all the noise.

Power Play

Friday nights are date night for my Husband and I. This always consists of dinner at some local restaurant followed (at times) by a movie in which I faithfully indulge in a sinfully buttery order of movie theater popcorn. We have made date night a priority in our marriage so as never to allow life in general to get in the way of quality hubby-bubby and wifey-pooh time. However, our Friday night plans were nixed last week... but for good reason.

Date night ended up being on Tuesday and it wasn't local. We also didn't plan any part of it... my boss did (oddly enough) along with paying for a portion of it. He is a major hockey fan with season tickets that never go to waste. Last Tuesday he had a meeting he couldn't miss so he offered the tickets to us. He explained how to get to the stadium, where to park, which restaurant to check into and even, if we had time, where to go for some ice cream. The night couldn't have gone off better... well, except that our team lost miserably. Still, we had a blast and hope that the grumpy man who sat at the end of our row learns to have more fun too!

It surprises even me that I enjoy hockey. I am not anti-sport... but I usually don't spend any time watching, studying, or participating in it. That was not always the case. For quite a few years in my youth I was a gymnast and after that I was a cheerleader. Two great forms of athletic endeavors that I am proud of. Some folks might think me sacrilegious or even anti-American because I am not a football fan. But hockey? I don't know, something about it catches my interest and I find myself not only willing to go to a game but also ready to offer up commentary during the action.

In hockey, when one team has a penalty, the player responsible for that penalty is taken out of the game for a pre-determined amount of time causing what is called a "Power Play." His team, now one man short, must continue to play even though their opponents have full numbers. This is when things get exciting and can either work for or against the team of choice. Imagine four players against five all in the fight to score the next point. Will the underdogs come out victorious despite the odds or will their momentary weakness be their undoing? Win or lose, it is just fun to find out.

Reader beware... I am about to turn a date night story into a hockey-themed life lesson. Continue at your own risk... lame self-made theology ahead!

How often have I created a power play in my own life? Whether I am the underdog or just the spoiled wife/daughter/friend/etc... that wants to get her way I can either come out victorious or just plain pitiful. I struggle with God because he might not be answering my prayer the way I want Him to when I want Him to. I fight my pride at work when someone else can do a part of my job better than me not because I am lacking but because they have perfected that skill. Jealousy over other couple's success to conceive is a constant power play. Am I truly as happy for them as I say I am or has bitterness made me a liar who covets what they have? The list could go on and on and on.

In the end, whether I succeed or maybe not so much, all that matters is that I learned something valuable. God's ways will always far surpass anything I come up with. A co-worker's skills are a free opportunity for me to learn and better myself. And as for those couple's who get the honor of being called parents... well, I AM happy for them. I may have to cling, sometimes white knuckled, to that better-natured part of myself but it is a fight worth winning.

Sometimes, like our hockey team did last Tuesday, I will lose miserably and will feel every humiliating moment of it. Thank God for His grace and strength when my battle feels every inch of the hill I find myself climbing. Time and again, though, He has been there to pull me (if not carry me) to the top where the view is fresh. This may just be the beginning of yet another stress-inducing power play but perhaps this time I'll shoot and, hope of hopes, score. Thank goodness I have a patient coach!

You Never Know

People are funny. We walk around acting like we have things figured out when, in reality, we are lucky if we even know the next step to take. Most of the time, I believe, everyday living is a faith walk. Like Forest Gump famously said, "...you never know what your going to get."

I went to college to become a first grade teacher. After four and a half years, I graduated with an English degree that really was only good for getting my foot into some doors. Instead, I went out into the world and worked my way up the childcare ladder by starting at the very, very bottom. About four years ago, I resigned as the director of a fairly large childcare center and went back into the classroom. The comment was made that I was going the wrong way... down the ladder. Now I am a secretary for a small but growing church. I've been given the freedom to design every detail of the job even though I never worked in this field before. My name is listed right up there with the various pastors and church leaders. How did that happen?

When I was asked in High School where I wanted to be in ten years, the answer was easy... married with at least one child. Yes, like so many, I dreamed of the loving Husband, cottage-like home with the ever popular white picket fence and a mom to boot. I had no qualms about the barefoot and pregnant bit. My Husband and I didn't meet until I was 28 and we didn't marry until I was 29 1/2 years old. A bit later than I had originally planned. However, when asked if he was worth the wait I had no problem then or now saying, "YES... I would not change a thing!" We never have had a white picket fence but our homes have been amazing blessings and we still sit in wonder of all that God has provided.

Still waiting on the children part as well. This next birthday I'll be closer to 40 than to 30 and I wonder when "late" is considered too late. In the mean time, we have a parrot (not a dog, cat, or something normal) to tend to and she thinks she is all too human. Often we wonder who is entertaining who?

As I sit here tonight reflecting, I see so many "plans" that took completely unexpected turns. Lots of blessings for which I am truly thankful to God for but certainly not what I pictured. I truly believe that God laughs at our so called blueprints for life... much like Morgan Freeman did in Evan Almighty. When I try to look at the possibilities for 2009 my mind goes blank. I can no more see into the coming weeks and months than I can the next five minutes. When God says He is "a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path" He means just that... that little section immediately in front of our toes. That is all we get. Anything beyond that is a blind guess at best no matter how we try to convince ourselves otherwise.

Tomorrow could be business as usual though I may throw in some hair color and a trim OR some new surprise twist or event that could take me in a direction I never even fathomed. That thought could get a bit scary for I know too well how a negative life experience feels. My family may never fully recover from the loss of my youngest brother... he was only sixteen when he died. He'll have been gone for thirteen years this coming May. That was not a part of any of our plans. Perhaps that is why God says "not to worry about tomorrow for it will worry about itself."

I had no idea what to write about tonight only that I had the need to write. I don't mean to sound preachy in what I say nor do I claim to have said anything of great import. All I know for sure is that right now, as I sit at my desk typing, there is a roof over my head, my Husband has made it safely home from work, the parrot has unsurprisingly pooed over the side of her cage (again), and the day was good. I'm grateful. Like Caroll O'Connor said in Return To Me, "I am blessed with work." Plug in any word in place of "work" and that would fit just as well. Everything I dreamed for my life has had nothing so far on what God has made reality. Everything has had purpose, leading from one thing to the next (like connecting the dots) even if I don't understand or see where some of those dots will finally meet. In time I'll know, but for now... well, I'll close and go snuggle with my Husband. For a next step, that ain't bad... not bad at all.