So much to say. So little time. So little energy with which to say it. Convention is less than two weeks away. A week from today Mike and I will be moving into the Convention hotel for 7 days. It is Ca-Runch time. Crunchy! It’s all going well, it’ll be awesome and we’re getting excited, but planning a convention for 450 people is A LOT of work and we’ll be ready to have our lives back! Thank goodness we’ve got lots of people working on this thang. It’s kind of like training for a marathon: we’ve spent months (two years actually) preparing and following a training schedule/agenda and a lot of the time we’ve said, “And just WHY are we doing this?....When will it be over?...But it WILL be worth it!” And then when the big day(s) finally arrive, we’ll be excited and nervous and thrilled and full of trepidation. And then when it’s all over there will be this let-down. This post-Big event sigh of relief/sadness that it’s actually come and actually gone. (That’s when I will commence with master bathroom-makeover, garden shed installing and generally nesting and preparing for life to change).

Speaking of life changing, here’s a quick adoption update: We meet with Mia this Wednesday to negotiate the “Communication Agreement” (the legal document that maps out the plan for our contact with her post-baby). As you can imagine this can be a little intense and awkward, but we have a good feeling about it and there’s a neutral agency representative there to help maneuver through it. We also found out three items of EXTREMELY good news: our adoption fee will be $2000 less than what we’d thought (Praise God). And then ironically the same day we found out about the lower fee, the car broke down and sucked up $1200 of that saved money. Funny how that works.

Second item of great news: Mia does not request any input on naming the baby!!! HOORAY! (And no, actually, I’m not broadcasting the name this time ‘round. Believe it or not I CAN keep a secret…sorta. Sometimes….we’ll see. I will just say it’s pretty much the awesomest name ever and it’s not Abigail, fyi.)

Lastly, we learned Mia’s birth plan: being the smart girl that she is, she is aware of the emotional rollercoaster that she is in for and she will not hold the baby or see us at the hospital. We will get a call when she goes into labor, once the baby is born she (the baby) will be taken immediately to a private room; we’ll either be in the waiting room or arrive shortly after. When I thought about this scenario it made me a little sad: Baby’s just going to be hanging out in a room by herself with no one holding her just post-birth?!….and then I realized that (if all goes well), we’ll actually be able to hold this baby a lot sooner and longer than we did with either of the boys. I mean obviously I saw both of them and got to hold them for a MINUTE but then they were whisked off the NICU and we didn’t get to hold them for at least a day. We’ll also get to feed this baby sooner too. And at least this time round I won’t be recovering from labor, 7 weeks of bed rest and the struggles of nursing a preemie (and thus also having to pump and bottle-feed). This is DEFINITELY a different kind of labor-delivery-baby-scenario and it’s stressful in many ways but filled with huge blessings in many other ways. What. A. Ride.

Matthew is now a strapping young seven year-old. And, yet again, his birthday experience was a rollercoaster ride as he was devastated to realize that despite it being his birthday, he felt no different what-so-ever. Seven years old in the morning felt very much like six years old had felt the night before. Thankfully, we worked through the drama and he had a great, special day in the end.

We spent Labor Day weekend at Port Ludlow with my parentals, my two big brothers and my mom’s youngest brother – my Uncle Phil (aka “Uncle Phuzzie”). Uncle Phuzzie – who the boys quickly adored – taught the boys useful things like how to say “Good morning” in Japanese, “Where are my shoes?” in Spanish and the fun little classic ditty: “Miss me, miss me, Now you gotta kiss me.” He also chanted, “Matthew and Emma kissing in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g…” to which Matthew blushed fiercely and then, giggling, asked him to do it again. (Despite his reaction, Matthew claims to no longer have a relationship with Emma. That was SO Kindergarten).

We, along with my brother Tim, took the boys swimming on Sunday afternoon. All of a sudden, Zachary has no fear of the water and (clutching four swim noodles) he launched himself off the side of the pool at his Uncle Timothy. When Tim asked him if he wanted to do it again, Zach, said, “Um, maybe not, that was actually kinda scary.” Matthew did an awesome job swimming on his own, though it’s possible he also drank about half the pool in the process.

After swimming, we returned to the bumpin’ condo for dinner and birthday cake. Mom had decorated the cake with little green army men and Matthew was THRILLED. He announced, “This cake is SO COOL.” He’d gotten to open Aunt Jamie’s and Uncle Dan’s gift early on Friday and was thrilled to get to open a few more from the rest of us on Sunday. He got some birthday cash, some books (including audio books of Robin Hood and Black Beauty), and of course, we got him a couple of Legos that made him squeal with glee like a little girl.

All in all, it was a great three-day weekend and birthday celebration and once again, returning from vacation made reality all the harder to face. We’ve got nasty colds – Mike’s is actually the worst which is ironic as he’s usually the one that avoids getting the bug all together, and with only three weeks until the Convention that we’ve been working on for two years, things are going to be CRAZY for a bit. The. Count. Is. On.

Um, wait, September?! For really? When did summer come to a screeching halt? Where did it even go even? We didn’t make it to the local beach park once! We only did the slip-‘n-slide a handful of times. We didn’t make it to one concert in the park at our neighborhood park! I didn’t finish my garden sanctuary. I didn’t get the deck stained. Oh well, that’s what I get for blinking! Sheesh.

Here we are, September. We took Matthew to school this morning for his first day of first grade. FIRST, I tell you! AND Matthew turns seven on Saturday – SEVEN, I tell you! Zachary started gymnastics on Monday – he’s a natural and holy cow does he ever love it! I really don’t know that I’ve ever seen him look so enthralled and alert. His eyes were huge and lit up as he watched and listened to the coach’s every move. I can’t wait to watch him do it again!

September definitely marks the end of one season and the start to another. Vacation time is over. Beach time is over. We spent an AMAZING week with the Clan – Jason, Rebecca and their two boys – on our Clancation. We camped at Ocean City State Park near Ocean Shores. We had a great time and the first few days were gorgeous, but unfortunately the weather turned (totally) freezing-burr-cold so we (wisely) wussed out (just a couple of days early) and came back for a Clancation Staycation. For two days we did camping laundry, lounged about in pajamas and cozies, ate delicious food, drank delicious drinks and played game after fun game. For our anniversary, I got Mike (and the Clan) several new games and they’re ALL great: Qwirkle, Five Crowns and Carcassonne. I highly recommend them all. We also played one of our favorite games: Settlers of Catan. (And not that I’m bitter or counting, really, but I’m fairly certain that after seven evenings of playing games I only won a total of two or maybe just won one and tied one. At any rate, it was super fun and rough to come back to reality).

We came back to Nat’l EE Convention madness (thankfully just one month to go)! But we’re seriously going to be wrapped up in that for the next 30 days, so if you never (or rarely) hear from me/us, that’s why. We also came home to the joyful bill for Zachary’s hernia surgery ($1400 of fun!), we need to put about $1000 of work into our Honda CRV (yay!) and then, of course come December-ish we will pay Amara the ginormous (but totally worth it) adoption fee. It’s going to be a tight fall and Christmas!

Adoption news: We will be sitting down with Mia on Sept. 20th to negotiation the “The Communication Agreement.” This legal document spells out our post-baby/adoption plans for continuing contact with the birth mom. Negotiating this document can be a bit awkward and tricky business. (As you can imagine it can be difficult to balance the birth mom’s desire to see the baby with the adoptive parents’ desire to clearly assert their role as parents…that’s what the document AND the professionals are there to help sort out.) We’ve planned a trip to the zoo with Mia which might actually happen just a day or two before the C.A. negotiation meeting. Hmmm, could be interesting! I’ll do my best to keep you posted on that.

And now, for some quality time with Zach. He and I will be spend a lot of time together this year as I’ll be ‘homeschooling’ him for pre-K. It freaks me out a bit to be the sole teacher educating him in the basics (abc’s, 123’s, beginning reading, etc.), but thankfully pre-K Math is the only Math that I really excel in, so I know I’ll rock that.

I. Am. Pooped. Sheesh! We’ve been running around like mad packing for our week long camping trip to Ocean Shores with the bff’s. It’ll be a GREAT time – the forecast could be a TOUCH warmer, but it doesn’t look like it will be too wet (thankfully). And the good news is – as opposed to our last camping trip – we’ve got the boys’ duffle bag of (warm) clothes packed and we’re ACTUALLY gonna put it in the car and bring it with us this time. Genius, eh? Who knew?! The packed clothes work MUCH BETTER if you BRING THEM WITH YOU!

(Whooo! I’m a little punchy in my fatigue. Pardonnez-moi).

We’ve had a big couple of days too. In addition to packing for 7 nights ‘o camping fun, I also went to an ultrasound yesterday AND we went to the park this morning so Mia and the boys could meet for the first time. The ultrasound was amazing yesterday. It’s definitely different being a spectator and not the one experiencing the warmish goo-gel slide across your belly. There’s still something very surreal about the whole experience and I know that really, until that baby is in our arms and coming home with us, it won’t sink in that this is all happening. Baby right now weighs 2.5lbs. (at 26 weeks) which is awesome considering when I went into preterm labor with Zachary at 28 weeks he JUST weighed 2.5lbs. Mia will likely have no problem growing this baby – apparently Mia and her half-siblings were all BIG babies. Mia’s 7 year-old half-sister weighed TWELVE (yes, 12) pounds. The doctor actually induced Mia’s mom lest she end up having a 15 pound baby. AND this amazing/crazy/poor woman had all of her children naturally! (I didn’t do that and my bebes were only five pounds! Really, I shoulda/coulda just sneezed ‘em out).

We got some amazing photos from the ultrasound (and if I was savvy and had the energy or just had the time and asked Mike to do it, I’d scan and post them for you….but it’ll have to wait). And we saw the baby yawn! She looks freakishly gorgeous even in the womb! (Just sayin’).

So, this morning, as I said, we went to Green Lake for the boys and Mia to meet. Really, the boys could not have behaved better/more cute (cutely? That’s really a word!?) had we bribed them (which for the record, we hadn’t). Well, no I take that back, we did say that after we went to the park we needed to go to the grocery store where they could have a cookie (but that wasn’t contingent on good behavior. It was contingent on whether or not the bakery was handing out free cookies). ANYway, they WERE insanely cute. Like bizarrely/abnormally sweet with one another. At one point, Zachary was on the merry-go-round, and Matthew hopped on next to him. When Z noticed M, he lit up, grinning from ear-to-ear and threw his arms around Matthew in a tight hug. They proceeded to ride the merry-go-round together all brotherly-embraced. It was adorable (and again, slightly abnormal. I’m a little concerned). They really have been playing well together the last couple of days though. They even asked me tonight (as I double-checked their packed clothes): “Mom, can you please leave? We need to focus on playing.” (I reminded them that my getting their duffle bag ready for camping WAS actually fairly important and they could try to focus while pretending I wasn’t there).

Mia said the boys were just like the pictures she saw of them “cute and genuinely happy.” I like that description of us. I’ll keep it. I hope that by the end of week-long camping we’ll still be cute (though dirty) and genuinely happy!

Last night Zach suddenly asked me, “So, when are we moving to a different house?”

“Um,” I said, “We don’t plan on moving. Why do we need to move to a different house? What’s wrong with this one?”

He sighed with exasperation. “I just want all the new toys.”

I explained to him that moving to a new house does not mean that you get new stuff or new toys. You take all YOUR stuff with you. Zach’s jaw literally dropped and he said, “That’s A LOT OF STUFF to put in the car!”

* * * * *
We were supposed to meet up with Mia this morning at a park so that she could meet the boys, but I got a call that she was sick and would need to reschedule. I ALSO found out that I’m invited to attend a doctor’s appointment/ultrasound with her on Thursday afternoon!!! This will be SO super exciting (and a little nerve-wracking)! I’ll keep ya posted.

* * * * *
Check us out and our craftiness. I’ve been on a mission to beautify a section of my back garden that I call my “sanctuary.” (Right now my sanctuary just annoys me because we haven’t hung up the tile mosaic that I did yet and it’s in desperate need of being weeded, but I know it will be great once it’s complete. This table that the boys helped me with will go underneath my mosaic – which will hang on the fence – and between two chairs the exact same shade of blue as my favorite hydrangea bush. I have checked and this table – with the chairs – makes for a perfect margarita glass-placing and drinking location). I'll (eventually) have a picture of the finished Sanctuary to show you.

Oops, I had to think about the date for a second – doh! And Mike JUST walked out the door for work saying oodles of “I love you’s” and “Happy Anniversary!”(s). Today is our 9th wedding anniversary and quite frankly it’s the BEST (9th) wedding anniversary EVER! 

Last night we met the birth mom, Mia, and her parents Norah and James. Basically, we could not have asked for things to go better. They exceeded my most fervent prayers and best dreams. It was as natural and normal and amazing as I had so hoped (and kinda knew) it would be. As we first sat down I stated the obvious, “Well, this is like the most-crazy, ultimate blind-date!” I think that helped break the ice a bit.

Mia is SO AWESOME and, uh, to sound really humble here, she is SO much like me!! Seriously, the whole time I just kept thinking, “Yes, thank you! Yes, thank you! This IS as perfect as I thought it’d be.” I’m so, so thankful. I don’t even feel worthy of such a wonderful birth family and (hopefully!) ideal situation.

Now, obviously as we move forward with Mia she still has until 48 hours AFTER the birth to change her mind. But the more we get to know her and the more comfortable we all become, the easier it will be for her to hand that dear little one over. And it certainly won’t be the last time Mia sees Baby Girl. We would LOVE to have Mia as a part of our daughter’s life. This really does have the potential of being the BEST case adoption situation EVER….which is a little scary. Mike even said afterwards, “It’s almost TOO perfect.” I’d rather just forget the risks (if possible) and throw myself 100% emotionally in….that’s the only way I know how to do this now. And I’m pretty darn sure that Mia and her parents are going all in too.

Even the two counselors – Mia’s and Cynthia who was stepping in for Joy (as Joy is on her honeymoon and we VERY graciously ‘allowed’ her to go – sat back and just kind of watched in amazement. At one point, Alethia (birth mom counselor), shook her head and said, “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more perfect match.” Afterwards Cynthia – who hardly got to/had to say two words – told us that she’s never seen a match meeting go so well (and she’s been in the biz for a LONG time).

Do you know the movie ‘Juno’? (Teenage girl gets pregnant, gives baby up for adoption). Joy had told us that that movie has made things so much harder for them. “Everyone comes in saying ‘we just want a Juno,’ and rarely are things that easy.” Well, Juno – eat it – ‘cuz our Mia is the awesomest birth mom EVER. We got our Juno….actually WAY better than Juno.

(So, now we’ll just pray that the doctors are RIGHT this time and it IS a girl, that she stays healthy and for Mia as she moves forward on this difficult journey). AMEN. Yay God!

What. A. Ride. Yesterday afternoon, we were in the front yard so the boys could do the slip-n-slide. I sat in the shade and sobbed as I talked to our social worker, Joy, on the phone – because I was just SO SURE that Birth Mom would pick us. I just kept wondering how it would ever feel so right when I really, REALLY believed this was The One!! Anyway, Matthew -- all dripping wet -- came and put his arms around me. He rubbed my back and said, "Mommy, we'll get picked soon. I just know it." Ahhh, that kid. Seriously. That kid speaks the voice of God more than any little booger I know.

I sobbed for two hours. Then at 5:30, Joy called.

“Hey, Jenny,” she said. “I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”

“I’m OK,” I replied. I had, in fact, stopped crying – not because I’d run out of tears but because I’d run out of time. We were just about to walk out the door to a neighborhood party at the park. I was going to attempt to put on a happy face.

“Are you alone?” She asked.

“Um,” I looked around the living room at the boys jumping around excitedly as we were about to leave. “I could step out on the deck.”

“No, that’s OK. You’re home. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t driving or anything…’cuz….You ARE it.”

Silence.

Wait. Wha….? The….? Wa-Huh???

She went on to tell me that she hadn't realized just how close it'd been between us and this other family. But Birth Mom – for whatever reason HAD picked the other family although it’d been a difficult choice. In the end, however, the other family decided that they weren’t the right match after all. Thankfully, Birth Mom was NOT disappointed at all; she’s thrilled that WE’RE IT!!!

Part of the issue was that the other family did not feel confident in supporting and promoting this baby’s different races. (Baby will be mostly Caucasian with a little AfricanAmerican, a little Hispanic, a little Native American and a WHOLE LOT GORGEOUS). Joy – God bless her – assured Birth Mom that despite us looking as white as white can be and only having pictures with white friends and family in our book, we were ecstatic and enthusiastic about transracially adopting. And needless to say I AM ecstatic and enthusiastic.

All afternoon I just couldn’t shake the feeling, “But it felt so perfect. How is ever going to feel as perfect?! I was SURE this was it.” And I was right. Yay!

Obviously there are still several go’s on this rollercoaster ‘til all is complete. We’ll have a face-to-face “match meeting” with Birth Mom and her parents next week. If all goes well (as we’re confident it will), then we can move forward. Birth Mom could still – of course – change her mind at any time (up to 48 hours POST birth), so please keep her in your prayers as I cannot IMAGINE what a difficult process this is for her.

Sometime near November 25th (hopefully!) our baby girl will come home with us. Now, THIS will be a Thanksgiving we’ll never forget.

So, we found out this afternoon that after debating for several days between us and another family, Birth Mom went with the other family. We’re her “Back-Up.” Me thinks that makes it hurt even more. If only she could’ve met us. I felt like we were such a perfect match as did our social worker. She was convinced that we’d be picked and even wanted to run out to the parking lot and ask Birth Mom, “Are you SURE?!”

Ahh, the what-if’s. If only….if only.


Being the “Back-Up” family means that if at their match-meeting, Birth Mom or Other Family, doesn’t feel like it’s a 100% match, then we’d be it. This RARELY happens, and I won’t hold out hope for it. I just REALLY, REALLY wish, we’d had different news today.

Sucky. Sucky. Lameness.

My music-teaching, blogging friend Jessica sent me this ultrasound image. :) We don't know when/how baby girl will get to us, but we DO know she'll be worth the wait.

I had a revelation. And maybe it’s a little lame it took me this long to realize the specifics here. See, I’ve known for a while that I’m pregnant. (Woah, did I just cause a brief panic?! Meaning ADOPTION-pregnant, people, what did you think?!) So, through this pregnancy I’m able to run half-marathon(s), I can drink wine and girly froofy-drinks but no beer because I don’t like that anyway, and the beauty-beauty-best-part is that I don’t have to be lying in bed and/or locked in a hospital room for months. I can be up and about and living my (mostly, somewhat) normal, active life…except for these ‘bouts during the first trimester. See, this is what I realized: we’ve had three times now when we’ve waited to find out if a birth mom would pick us. The first two times, I was excited and definitely disappointed when it didn’t happen, but I wasn’t PRAYING that it would happen like this time ‘round. [Update: we’re still waiting for birth mom’s verdict. She requested more time because – uh, yeah! – it is KIND OF a big decision. She plans to decide by this Friday…as in three more days.]

The first trimester is often the hardest and most scary (unless you’re like me when you spend most of the 2nd-3rd trimester in bed trying to stop having the baby early…that’s fairly stressful and scary). So, for MOST women, the first trimester is a bit of a nervous time and typically you feel like crappola. You get nauseous (OK, don’t have that, but definitely do get the nervous-pit-in-the-stomach-slash-butterflies feeling). You don’t sleep well (check! CanNOT stop thinking about this and all the what-if’s which are constantly interrupted by my prayers of PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE PICK US. I’m tired). You have the deep, dark fear that since it’s so ‘early,’ there may be problems. You’re fearful that it might not work out and you don’t always tell everyone in the whole world that you’re expecting. (DEFINITELY scared it might not work out but DEFINITELY NEVER mastered the ability to keep pregnancy a secret until week 13).

So, what I SHOULD do is give myself a little bit of a break – take it easy keeping in mind that I’m on an emotional rollercoaster right now, and I have the right to be a little heapy-weepy, cranky and tired. (Sorry, Mike and the boys).
What I should NOT do is comfort myself with food and start gaining weight as if truly pregnant. (Not good). But, um, please excuse me while I DO help myself to an extra dose of morning antioxidants. (dark chocolate w/my coffee. That would be VERY good for both me and my family.)

Last night I threw a full on, kid-in-the-candy-asile-not-gettin’-no-candy tantrum. It was good. And impressive. And totally pathetic.

Here we are, yet again, taking another turn riding the Adoption Roller Coaster. To be read in a monotone voice with no actual enthusiasm:: weeeeeeeee. It’s funny – just like our personality traits – the thing that can be the best, the biggest blessing, can also be the worst and most pain-in-the-but causing aspect to this. It’s COOL that this is so out-of-our-hands. As a control freak, it’s very good for me – but very freakin’ hard! – to just give it all up and trust that everything will work out. (Yet, I know it will, and I know that’s what we’re supposed to do about everything).

So, a pregnant birth mom has come in to the Agency. She knows she’s having a girl. Everything looks good and healthy. She’s due November 25th (as in AFTER the National EE Convention we’re working on). The description of Birth Mom’s personality could’ve been someone describing me. And Birth Dad sounds like an imitation Mike. Birth Mom’s hobbies include: computer games (Mike), art (more Mike than me, really), writing (uh, that’d be me), reading (also me), animals (more Mike than me, I suppose but sorta both of us) and music (yep, right here). Oh, and unlike a situation we found out about last week (from which we were disqualified), this Birth Mom WANTS the family to already have kids. To make the situation even more enticing there are some other aspects to Birth Mom’s personal life (that I shan’t share here), that sure seem like this is the most PERFECT situation yet. It really does have everything that we’ve been praying for. So, I’ve been praying for it. And I mean, PRAYING THAT SHE PICKS US.

I haven’t done this yet. This one feels different. I WANT this one. I feel like I NEED this one. I DESERVE this one. (Yeah, do you hear the whiney kid-in-the-candy-aisle kickin’ in? She’s here!) With the other adoption situations that we’ve been presented with, I’ve gotten excited, but I never thought: This is TOTALLY it. I never actually prayed, “Look, here’s the situation: I really want this one. Please, please, please can we have it? Please can this be The One and have Birth Mom pick us, k? It’s everything we’ve prayed for. This MUST be it!” No, I’ve been a good patient girl (OK, not really), and just prayed more for my acceptance if things didn’t go our way. (Is that a sign that I must’ve known DEEP DOWN that it wasn’t “The One? Whereas with this one I’m just BEGGING that it be The One and make it so!)

So, I’ve tried to push all doubts from my mind. We are, again, one of 10 families in the running for Birth Mom to choose. We are family #3 in the stack (just based on how long we’ve been in child search). So, there are two families’ books above ours, two families who have waited a tad longer, but she can still pick any family 1-10. Yes, so there’s still only a 10% chance that we’ll get picked. [whiney] BUTIWAHNIT.

Finally, last night, after we put the boys to bed, I gave in to the doubt. And then it became a whole discussion of faith. I started crying to Mike that really, if we – obviously – will get The One that is intended for us, then what’s the point of even praying that this be The One?! We’ll get The One whether we pray for it or not, right? (I realize that I’m watering everything down and that obviously there is point to prayer, but in the depths of my dark realization that after this week of praying and pleading and petitioning….I still might not get my way). I even start questioning the whole process: Am I being selfish asking for this specific thing? Do I not DESERVE it? I don’t ask for much personally, so come on! But we do have two healthy children already, so who am I to deserve another? Is this the equivalent of me asking that our very comfortable income suddenly double? (Which I’d never do). But am I being greedy? Maybe I don’t deserve to have three healthy kids including boys AND a girl.

Mike’s most comforting comment was the reminder that with each adoption situation that we’ve seriously thought about, they’ve gotten better. Every single one has seemed better than the last. So, IF this one, isn’t The One, then it just means that there’s actually one even better out there.

“So?” I grumble, folding my arms like an attitude-stricken-teenager. “I want this one. I don’t want those other ones. How could there be one more perfect than this?”

“But we’ll only know about those other ones if this one doesn’t work out,” he says.

“So, what are you saying?” I snap. “You don’t want this one to work out?”

“No,” he calmly assures me, “I’m praying that this is The One, also. And I WILL be disappointed if it doesn’t work out, but I know it means that there’s something better still out there.”

Yeah, yeah, Mr. Trusting-Oh-Faithful-One. I know that in my HEAD, it’s just hard to accept it in my heart.

Unfortunately, in the middle of my tantrum-emotional-outburst, Matthew wandered into the kitchen.

“Mommy, are you sad?” He asks quietly.

“I’m OK, kiddo. Just…tired and a little frustrated.” I didn’t really know how else to explain it.

Then Mike adds, “Mom’s just having a hard time figuring out what God wants.”

“Oh!” Matthew says, like OF COURSE, I should’ve known! “Well, yeah, God IS hard to understand.” Then my little mini-philosopher wanders back down the hall to his room.

A couple minutes later, as Mike and I continue to talk in the kitchen, I hear singing coming from the boys’ room. Matthew is singing – at the top of his lungs – one of my favorite songs, “I’m Yours.” It’s a Jason Mraz hit but was also covered by my favorite (a capalla) group Straight No Chaser and THAT version mixes “I’m Yours” with the Hawaiian (Israel Kamakawiwo'ol’e’s) version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” It’s pretty much musical magic. (When I was in wallowing in the pit of post-partum depression, the second Mike got home from work, I used to go in the backyard and listen to Israel K’s song on repeat while trying to push out every last tear of grief…I never really ran out though). Essentially, it’s a song that – especially when sung by my six-year-old – can warm my heart and bring me to tears without fail (in a GOOD way).

I wander down the hall and see Matthew sitting up in bed. As soon as he sees me the singing stops and he grins. “I just thought I could sing it to help Zach fall asleep, and it did! And then I thought, ‘Hey! If I sing it loud enough mommy can hear too and it will make her happy.’ Did it work?!”

“Yes, it did.” I give him a hug and whisper, “You’re such a sweet boy.”

Matthew acts coy and says, “Well, you’re just going to make my heart fill up with love and explode, Mom.”

I know if this Birth Mom doesn’t pick us it will hurt. I know if this Birth Mom doesn’t pick us it will be OK. I know that I’m more than blessed already and anything else will just be sprinkles on the cake. (My cake already has LOTS of icing). But I would like some sprinkles too.

Matthew has had a hard time focusing lately – and for good reason. On Friday morning, I attempted to have him finish his tutoring worksheets before we left for camping. He was fidgeting and goofing and all around unfocused. I really just needed him to give me ten minutes of quality “work time,” but it just was not going well.

When I asked him why he was having such a hard time, he said, “I’m worried that camping is going to start without us!”

Tuesday, after his tutoring session with my friend Megan, she actually told me that he was even fidgety with her – doing such HELPFUL things as resting his head on his arm and blowing fart noises. (OK, that is kind of funny, but not exactly appropriate). I told her that I was having the same issues (not me making farting noises but HIS general inability to focus), and – not to make excuses – but this week is probably a wash because right after tutoring our best buds Joshua and Noah were coming over (with mom Rebecca, of course). Matthew hadn’t seen them in one WHOLE day, since we’d spent the weekend together, so of course we were all excited. Plus, Joshua and Noah (and Rebecca) would be staying for an overnight and then Zachary had his surgery the next day (yesterday). Anyway, Matthew has tutoring this morning, so we’ll see how that goes. I’m personally not expecting amazing things. It would be nice if his session went fart-noise-free this time though.

So, Zachary’s surgery WAS yesterday. When he woke up in the morning, the first thing he asked me was, “Is my surgery today?” When I told him yes, he started to whine, “I don’t wanna go. You said that it wasn’t until tomorrow!!”

“Kiddo, today IS the tomorrow of yesterday.” (Yeah, that’s right. I’m deep).

I was concerned that the hardest part for him would be not getting to eat cereal (or anything – but especially cereal!) first thing in the morning. I let him have a bowl of frosted mini wheats before bed (not to mention whatever he wanted to eat for dinner). The novelty of that was a pretty exciting distraction. At 7:57 yesterday morning – just three minutes from our deadline – I force fed him a few gulps of apple juice. I think he was still slightly mad about not getting anything else, so he didn’t even take to the juice much.

To make matters worse, our check in time at Children’s wasn’t even until 11am, so it was going to be a LONG time until this snacky boy got to eat. Thankfully, with Joshua and Noah here and getting to watch a Diego show, Zachary was pretty distracted. When we were about to walk out the door – all the while, Zach reminding me that he didn’t want to have surgery (I certainly didn’t blame him!) – I told Matthew to give Zach a hug and tell him he loved him.

Matthew squeezed Zach for an extra long hug and said, “I love you. Good luck, Zachy, I hope your doctor isn’t Dr. CLAW!” [the bad guy from Inspector Gadget who – I’m fairly certain – lied about his MD status.]

With that pleasant thought, we walked out the door.

We picked up my mom who kindly came along. Mike is still in California, unfortunately, for a work conference, and mom didn’t want me to “go through that” by myself.

I was SO impressed with Children’s – as I knew I would be. I’d heard such amazing things about the facility, the programs, the staff that – this’ll sound weird, but it’s true – I was kind of excited about getting to go there. I just knew that I would be thankful that we were there for a small Hernia surgery and not something more serious. Zach seemed to enjoy the brightly painted murals and the fish tanks scattered throughout the waiting area. Mom did a superstar-grandma-move and surprised Zach in the waiting room with a new toy (a Luke Skywalker action figure). Go Grandma! Eventually we were called back to the pre-op (and later post-op) area. After meeting several different nurses and doctors (some of them QUITE handsome, I might add. Mom and I were in agreement that any of them would rival “Dr. O’Hunk” – a doc that I saw in the hospital once in college). I think the hunky doctors were provided to boost the morale of the mothers (and grandmothers!). Literally, a moment after the Anesthesiologist walked out of the room we said at the same time, “GOOD lookin’ guy!” I would’ve guessed that these handsome men were just hired actors to appease the crowd, but I actually got to go in the OR and two of the hot-docs WERE in there doing actual doc-stuff, so I’m fairly certain they were the real thing. Or they just have the parents walk into a mock Grey’s Anatomy set room, and then once mom is gone, the real doctors take the patient to the real OR.

ANYWAY, Zach got super quiet when he was being asked questions by the doctors and nurses and I could tell that we were nearing some resistance. The fight came when it was time for me to take off his clothes and wipe him down with a warm-antibacterial cloth before putting on his backside-opened hospital gown. Yeah, that’s when he started saying, “I DON’T WANT SURGERY. I DON’T WANT SURGERY.” It broke my heart – of course. I just kept saying, “I know you don’t, baby, but you gotta do it. This would get way more owie if we didn’t do surgery now. And your tummy after the surgery won’t even hurt as bad as when you hurt your chin at Grandma’s last week….you’re being so brave.”

Things were made easier when they said 1.) That Zachary could bring Blanky back with him and 2.) That I could accompany Zach into the OR and be with him while that ‘put him under.’ I got to wear a big white suit over my clothes, a blue hair cover net and a blue mouth and nose mask. The doctor said that they would make “your mommy look like a big walking marshmallow.” Awesome. That’s hot. It cheered Zach up though.

Zach looked oh so tiny and vulnerable in his little blue hospital gown and red no-slippy socks. He clutched my hand tightly as we walked through the maze of halls to the operating room. Hot Doc asked Zach how old he was. When Zach quietly said, “Four,” Hot Doc said, “Well, I guess we better go in OR #4 then.” I thought that was impressive that he could just randomly pick the OR he wanted to use, but then we walked in and saw the room was already full of the several nurses and doctors who had come in to talk with us. Nice!

I sat Zach on the table and watched in amazement as the doctors and nurses showed him the squiggly lines on the screen that would show his heart and his breathing. Hot Doc said it was like a video game and every time Zach took a big breath he could make an even bigger mountain show up on the blue line. Zach had selected “bubble gum” smell for his mask and I watched as they placed the little cover over his nose and mouth telling him to breathe “slow and big” so that he could inflate a blue balloon that was attached to the end of a hose. Sure enough, every time Zach breathed in the anesthesia, the balloon got bigger. Eventually – maybe after a minute – Zach looked up at me with vacant eyes and Hot Doc quietly said, “OK, he’s starting to be disoriented and probably doesn’t even really see you right now.” A few moments later Zach started to feel heavy against my hand and a couple of nurses quickly stepped forward to lie him down.

“Now, he’s getting fidgety, just like we talked about,” Hot Doc said. Earlier, in pre-op, he’d walked me through how Zach’s body would react to the anesthesia. He’d said, “It can look a little scary – like he’s having a seizure. They wiggle around. Sometimes their eyes don’t close right away, and then they’ll start taking short quick breaths like they’re panting. It’s all totally normal but can look a little scary if you aren’t prepared for it.”

I thought it was incredible how he talked me through it all right then too.

Zach’s eyes slowly closed and I did notice him starting to take short, quick breaths. Hot Doc put his hand on my back and gently nudged me towards Zach. “Mom, go ahead and lift your mask and give him a kiss on the cheek, then nurse Kelly will take you back to the waiting area.”

Ahhhh. That is the hardest thing to see ever. I KNEW he’d be fine. I KNEW the surgery was very low risk and not that big of a deal. It’s just so hard to leave your baby lying on the table like that. Anyway, I walked out and was fine until I got to the small room that my mom was in. That’s when I let myself have a little cry.

My gosh, if this is how I respond for a hernia (and I have had experience watching the boys as preemies get feeding tubes, breathing tubes, etc.), I cannot even imagine what it’s like for parents who have to watch their child get wheeled in for open heart surgery or go through the awful-torture of treatment for leukemia or the emotional rollercoaster of Cystic Fibrosis. It makes my heart ache for them in a thousand different places.

So, I pulled myself together – disrobed from the marshmallow suit – and mom and I went to find the cafeteria.

Zach was away from me for only 1hr.5minutes. We were paged first to meet with the surgeon. We sat in the small meeting room until he came in. He had a grin on his face as he said, “He did great! You’d never even know he had surgery. And that was a nice BIG Hernia.” Alrighty then. I did find out – and I already thought this was the case – that his hernia WAS most likely caused by his preemie-hood. (It greatly increases the chances of little boys getting these Inguinal Hernias). Now, Zach’s good to go. There IS a chance that an Inguinal Hernia could develope on his right side or that he’ll be prone to Hernias as an adult. But for now…

When they wheeled Zachary back to us in the recovery room, he was definitely still sleepy and out of it. But he gave me a weak smile as he cuddled into my lap. And then, oh man, and then, the most stressful five minutes of the day: they had reassured us that Blanky could go with Zach. They even put a sticker with Zach’s name and patient number on Blanky. But when they returned, there was a Zachy but no Blanky. Obviously, I’d choose the Zanchet over the Blanket, but um, still. This comfort item is kind of crucial to our existence.

Mom and I both spoke up at once, “Um, he had a blue blanket with him…it’s not here not. Oh, and he had underwear on [which they’d told me to leave on] and he doesn’t have that now either. But yeah, this blanket is REALLY important.” And then under my breath, half-joking-but sorta-not-but-of-course-mostly-in-jest, I mumbled, “Seriously, if that Blanky does not come back, we may have to sue this hospital for all it’s worth.”

The nurse dude read us loud and clear and promised to come back with it. He was on a rescue mission and he didn’t dare return empty handed.

Thankfully, the longest five minutes of our lives did come to an end when blessed Blanky returned folded nicely in a marked bag with Zach’s name on it. Thank you, Jesus. Blanky returned safely, Zachary recovering nicely, Matthew vowing to not make farting noises at tutoring, Mike returning home today, oh, and a REALLY ideal adoption situation that I’m PRAYING works out….life is good.

My blog is 346 pages long – single spaced! It is approximately the equivalent of a nearly 700 page novel. Now, I just need to figure out what to do with it and who would want to read 700 pages of me whining about the injustices of my near-perfect life, and we’ll be golden! (Just thought you should know).

Boys. Boys and bugs. Aren’t they supposed to be somewhat compatible? Once I got over the shock of Matthew being a boy with boy parts and not an Abigail Madeline girl with girly parts, I started thinking about the benefits of having a son, and honestly, one of my initial woo-hoo-moments was the proclamation, “I don’t have to kill anymore spiders!” Can someone please explain to both of my boys that they’re kinda droppin’ the ball on this?

Last week, the boys were playing outside while I cut the grass. All was well until I was dramatically summoned. With arms flailing, the boys jumped up and down yelling wordlessly over the roar of the mower. I cut the engine.

“Yes?” I say.

“You gotta come quick!” Zach pants.

“Yeah,” Matthew adds, “There are bugs in the Boys’ Club.” (The “Boys’ Club” is the small cube-like-with-a-slide plastic play structure in the backyard. Its’ four walls (no floor, no ceiling) have occupied a lot of their imagination this summer as it was deemed the “Boys’ Club.”

I don’t even pretend to be sympathetic. “Just get a stick and fling ‘em away.”

“No!” Zach gasps with the thought.

“There’s slugs and rolly-pollies and we don’t like bugs. You gotta get ‘em out and then don’t tell us where you put them.”

I cave. I’d really like to finish cutting the grass. Sure enough, underneath the Boys’ Club, on the ground below, there are two sun-crisp-dried-out slugs and maybe three little rolly-pollies. While I scoop them up with my gardening trowel and toss them into a nearby bush, I grumble to myself about having such brave boys who will protect ME from creepy-crawlies.

“There,” I say. “You’re good to go, but you know, I can’t guarantee there won’t EVER be bugs again in the Boys’ Club…since it IS outside ‘n all.”

They thank me and start to play. A little bit later I see Matthew moping around the yard.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Why aren’t you playing in the Boys’ Club?”

“I can’t stop thinking about those slugs.” Taking a deep melancholy breath, he announces, “The Boys’ Club is closed.” If he had said, “The Boys’ Club is condemned until future notice” it would have sounded no different.

Needless-to-say, I was a little worried how my insect-wussy boys would handle our first camping trip this summer. We went to Millersylvania State Park on Deep Lake (in Olympia-ish) with a few other families. I still feel that we’re major camping rookies, so it took us a week, to make lists of supplies, pull everything together for getting the car packed and all of us out the door.

It wasn’t until later Friday evening – after we’d been there for several hours and the air was starting to get a chill to it – that I realized the boys’ big duffle bag full of clothes never left their room. Looking at them in their already dirt-covered shorts and t-shirts, I felt like the Crappy-Mom-of-the-Year award winner and the Lamest-Rookie-Camper award recipient all in one. Thankfully, these are the stats of the other children present for the weekend, BOYS ages: 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6 and one girl, Amanda (who can hold her one) age 5. I managed to get enough cellphone service to call one of the families (with two boys ages 3 & 6) who hadn’t left their house yet. They threw some extra clothes in a bag for us and for the weekend Matthew (who usually wears a size 8) squeezed into Andrew’s size 6 clothes and Zachary wore Adam’s 3T duds. It was pretty funny to see them emerge from the tent in pants that were more like Capri’s, but still! At least they were clothed.

The group campsite was awesome. It was huge – big enough for probably 10 good-size tents. We had our own covered kitchen-eating area and a restroom that was just down a short trail. While exploring, I had found a little kid-made pretend fire pit created out of rocks and sticks. I showed it to Zach who also found it pretty cool. Looking down the nearby trail, Zach, all of a sudden gasps.

He whispers, “Look! C’mere!” Crouching and creeping through the underbrush like two clandestine hunters stalking their prey, we inched forward.

He motions for me to stop and in awed, hushed tones, points again, “Look! See it?”

I peer through the dimmed light of dusk trying to see the small creature or woodsy delight that has my son entranced.

“See it?” he stage-whispers with excitement.

“Um, no,” I admit, “What is it? What are we looking at?”

“Right there!” He points down the path with growing impatience. “It’s…” he pauses for effect and drama, “It’s….a bathroom.” Zachary says this with the awe of one discovery the Lost Temple of Something Cool.

That’s when I realize he is, in fact, pointing at the building 20 yards away. “The bathroom?! I thought we were looking for an animal or something.”

Grinning mischievously he says, still in faux-awe-filled voice, “No, it’s a building!” Yep, these are my outdoorsy boys.

We did have SUCH A FUN weekend. The weather could not have been better. Deep Lake was comfortably warm for our Saturday afternoon beach trip. We ate and drank well. And all the kiddos: Tyler, Matthew, Andrew, Joshua, Amanda, Zachary, Noah and Adam had a BLAST all weekend. The trip could not have been more perfect (well, maybe if we’d remembered clothing for our children, but it all worked out in the end)!

Call me selfish, ungrateful, demanding, greedy and/or self-indulgent – take your pick – but I kinda want a wedding do-over. And, I feel guilty about this. I really do. But is it really asking so much to get to have a wedding day devoid of “extra stress” – like the kind where one of you is so ill in the morning, you think you may have to cancel the whole thing and you end up spending your wedding night in the ER, cancelling your honeymoon, spending half of your three-week-old marriage in the hospital and then going through Chemo and Radiation as newlyweds. I want the kind of wedding stress that comes from getting a run in your nylons or breaking a nail. I would thoroughly and totally embrace that kind of wedding stress. Even the stress of the photographer showing up late or the reception hall not being 100% perfect sounds fantastic to me. Bring it on!

So for nearly nine years now, I’ve been a bit of a wedding prima donna – ok, A LOT of a wedding diva. I have no tolerance what-so-ever for people’s wedding whining and woes because – not that it’s a contest – but it just can’t really top mine. I’ve also been – and I’m embarrassed to admit this, but it probably comes as no surprise – bitter. BIT.TER. I didn’t want or need an over-the-top $10,000, $20,000, or $30,000+ wedding. We did everything as inexpensively as possible. Our wedding cost less than half of our new minivan! I didn’t demand much. Just like most girls I’d dreamt about my wedding all my life. Was it really asking so much to have a special day? A day without extra drama and heartache. A day where we could just focus on our love and our happiness and excitement to start our lives together.

Yes, thanks for asking, I would LOVE some cheese with my whine.

See, and this is where the whiney diva comes in, I DID have a special day. We did have a beautiful wedding and reception surrounded by loving family and friends and yet, weddings will forever be just a little hard for me. I’ll also think of ours as more stressful and bitter than sweet and special which breaks my heart. But it’s the truth. I can’t go to a wedding without feeling slightly jealous. And I certainly don’t wish the kind of stress that we experienced on anyone else. I don’t want to bring people down to this wedding pity party and I try not to.

With time it’s gotten better. We had three beautiful weddings to go to this year. Jason’s and Julia’s wedding in April was gorgeous. It was such a beautiful mass at the Cathedral followed by a smashing affair of a reception. And I can honestly say that theirs was the first wedding that was “easy” for me (OK, “easier”). I guess time helps to soften the blow. Each wedding we attend isn’t about us – it’s not about me – and I know that, I’ve always known that, and I’m thankful that with every year, they are becoming more comfortable for me. More sweet, less bitter.

Then, this past weekend, we had not one but TWO weddings to go to. We attended Mike & Catherine’s on Friday night and Ryan and April’s on Saturday night. (Ryan was one of our groomsmen! He’s been here since the beginning. We’ve gotten to know Mike and Catherine through church and helping them with marriage prep/pre-counseling). Again, I felt happy at both. And for this, I am SO thankful. Who wants to be the miserable curmudgeon who – fake-smiles – through the beautiful day all the while feeling the stab of 582 bitter-daggers twisting within? Not me. Another common denominator is that all three couples whose weddings we attended this year have provided us with something extra. We got to play a small – trivial – role in helping each couple arrive at the altar. I like to joke that “if it weren’t for us, this marriage wouldn’t have happened at all!” (I never claimed to be humble). At some point, during the last year we met with each couple for some one-on-one marriage prep stuff. And knowing the struggles of these couples – their trials and triumphs and how hard they’ve worked on their relationship – is such a blessing and makes their wedding day even more special to us personally.

The last thing that DEFINITELY helps with weddings is that we HAVE decided to do a bit of a wedding do-over. August 11th, 2011 will be our 10th wedding anniversary and – while ten years in the big picture isn’t THAT much – it’ll be a major accomplishment for us. We’ve been through A.LOT. in 10 years. Cancer, babies – preemie babies, boy baby that we thought would be girl baby, hospital bed rest, postpartum depression, therapy, adoption process, etc. So, because Mikey loves me so much and spoils me so much and knows how much it would mean (to BOTH of us), we will be having a Wedding Vows Renewal/Wedding Part Deux/”Wedding THE SEQUEL” on Friday, August 12th, 2011. That’s right, mark your calendars! (Unless I don’t know you, in which case you won’t be invited…sorry). This will be our way of celebrating (each other) and thanking everyone who has helped us get through our first ten years of marriage. And I’m sure it’ll help my wedding-bitterness…unless we spend wedding night do-over in the hospital also in which case we’ll just have another reason to do another big party…and another and another until I’m, you know, over it.

Is it their caveman roots? In the pursuit of the hunt, it was always a competition of who would get their first, right? Who could make the better kill? Who would bring home the better prey? Is this why boys – particularly ours currently – are so completely engrossed in a nonstop competition? It does not matter WHAT the topic or circumstance – who has a bigger piece of cake, who is the first one to arrive and sit upon the shoe-putting-on-stool, who has more “homework” (‘cuz you just have SO much when you’re 4 and 6) – they even argued about who was sweatier after a hot morning at Sports Camp this week! Seriously?! It’s nonstop with the competition right now!

Thankfully, their first little intro to team sports was all focused on teamwork and having fun rather than skill (which they lack) and competition and victory (which they are constantly striving for anyway). After a cold, rainy 4th of July, Seattle did the often typical – get beautiful and hot starting on July 5th which also was our first morning of Sports Camp. 4th festivities include going to a neighbors’ for a damp bbq and then home to get in pajamas and watch fireworks from the couch in the living room. [Please note Matthew’s patriotic outfit of choice; Army Man Dan will be proud]. It worked out well since we could get the boys to bed a little earlier for their early morning. The boys enjoyed their first camp experience although so far it doesn’t appear that we have any natural Olympic athlete offspring…yet. You can see in their picture with the coaches that their enthusiasm just could NOT be contained. (They DID have a good time, for the record, just NOT for that picture).

Zachary, as usual, has been a clown lately. We got our first ever slip ’n slide yesterday. His technique is classic: sprint to the end of the slip ‘n slide, abruptly halt, jump once in place, pause, then flop on to his tummy upon which he scoots about a foot before coming to a stop. He then pushes himself like a frog down the rest of the slide. After we came inside and the boys showered off, I started to put lotion on him (which is tricky when he’s a moving target, dancing his naked little bum all around the place). I’d barely touched his arm when a little hand shot up in front of my face motioning me to stop.

“Woah, dude,” he exclaimed, “That’s too cold. You gotta warm that action up.”

Apparently the cold lotion – while I thought it would be refreshing seeing as our house was 98 degrees – was a bit too chilly. I rubbed it together in my hands and blew on it. He gave me an approving nod before I continued with the lotionizing. “Now, THAT is what I’m talkin’ about!” he said with gusto.

So, I haven’t been completely honest with you. And I’m sorry. (And I’m sorry for the length of this post). It’s not that I’ve lied; I just did that whole convenient withholding of certain facts and details. I kind of gave you an edited version of me for the last two and a half weeks. I don’t think you got totally gypped – there was still plenty going on and more than enough to report. I mean my gosh! It’s been a pretty epic couple of weeks: Matthew graduated from kindergarten, we started summer vacation, we’ve had some major snafus to deal with for the National Engaged Encounter Convention (for which we are the Co-Chairs), I ran my third half marathon and we also found out that Zachary needs to have surgery! (His “Inguinal Hernia Repair” will take place at Children’s Hospital on July 28th…when Mike is in California for a conference. Oh well. That was the earliest they could do). It’s not like you’ve been wanting for something to read here (and I do appreciate that you visit here to read), and I’ve certainly had more than enough to share. However, with all that said, I’ve totally been holding back.

See, for the last two and a half weeks, we’ve been on one heck of an emotional roller coaster ride, and I just needed to ride it out before bringing you all along. On Friday, June 11th, we received an “Urgent” email from our adoption social worker, Joy. We got this email two minutes before our friends Jason and Julia arrived for dinner. I didn’t have a chance to read it as I was busy assuming my role as Chef-Goddess-Extraordinaire. (Or, so I like to pretend). Mike took a quick glance at it and quickly dismissed it. When I asked him for details he said, “Well, it doesn’t apply to us. It’s for siblings.” Oh, OK.

Yeah, OK, UNTIL I read it the next morning and my heart started to thud and my stomach flutter. See, we never had adopting more than one child on our radar for several reasons, most of which are practical: we can only afford to adopt one child (I’m sorry, but it is a pricey business), and we couldn’t be foster-licensed for more than one (or “sibling groups”) as we don’t have enough bedrooms. Plus, there’s the whole general concept that kids are awesome but most of the time kinda cramp your style, your space and definitely cost a lot of money. Case closed……

UNTIL I read this email. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Out of respect for the Birth Mom (henceforth: BM), I won’t go into too many details but will provide a general picture. Occasionally, a birth mom comes in who wishes to relinquish child(ren) who are not newborns. The agency provides these moms with support and resources and often – 99.9% of the time – they decide to continue parenting their child(ren). This time, however it seemed like BM’s mind was made up. And here’s the deal: she has not one, but two beautiful little girls – both healthy and happy. The oldest is 2 ½ and the youngest will turn one next month. Oh, and BM is pregnant with #3. That’s right, the agency was asking for families to think over the weekend if a.) you’d be open to the two girls (as they would NOT separate them) and b.) if you’d consider the third baby should BM decide to relinquish that child as well (which is still very up in the air because of several different factors).

Mike and I spent all weekend talking and praying about it. I spent all weekend unable to think of anything else. We had to decide by Monday morning if we were interested in learning more. I called Joy on Monday and said that we were definitely interested…in learning more…and just seeing where this went. We waited through that first work week in agony. BM was supposed to be meeting with the BM counselor and providing all medical records/social history and pictures and names of the girls. We had to wait through another weekend. EVERY SINGLE DAY I checked email in eager anticipation for more news. See, the problem is, you have to play this emotional yo-yo. You HAVE to get excited. You HAVE to open your heart to the possibility. But you also know that it might not happen. And yet, there’s some relief in that too. I was terrified for us to get picked. I was terrified for us to not get picked. And I was SO tired of just waiting, and waiting for more info.

When we finally received the email at the END of week two, the wait had been so full of anxiety and frustration that it was almost anticlimactic. But then, I saw the girls – pictures of these two beautiful, adorable little girls who just need a mom and dad and a Matthew and Zachary to love them and take care of them and keep them safe. Within moments, we realized that this was an awesome situation – better than we could’ve hoped for based on lots of stories we’ve heard. BM is young and healthy. The girls are healthy, great ages, etc.. It kind of seemed too good to be true. I sent Joy an email that said, “Bring it on. We’re in. All in.”

During all of this, I asked Mike one night, “What if Baby Girl is actually girlS…and then possibly one more?!!”

In the morning, I put this question to the boys at breakfast. “So, kiddos,” I said, “What if Baby Sister is actually TWO baby sisters?!!”

They both looked at me with big goofy grins and then Matthew said, “That’d be awesome!”

Zach agreed with, “That’d be perfect ‘cuz then the teams would be fair.” Oh, OK. I didn’t know we had teams.

“Yeah!” Matthew added getting excited, “There’d be three boys AND three girls.”

Seeing that this was going so well, I decided to throw them a curve ball. “And then what if there happened to be one MORE baby?”

This made them pause. They discussed it quietly and Matthew – speaking on behalf of his team, said, “That one would have to be a boy.”

I debated about showing the girls’ pictures to the boys as we don’t want them to feel any disappointment throughout this process (if possible). But since, we HAD decided to put our name in the hat, and there was a chance this might happen, I wanted them to be a little bit of a part of it. When I showed the boys the pictures, I didn’t say, “These are the girls we’re hoping will be your little sisters…” or anything like that, I just said, “These are the girls that we need to pray for…’cuz they need a new family and we want God to help their mom pick the right one.”

Without skipping a beat Matthew said, “I hope she picks us!”

We had to spend another weekend just waiting. Thankfully I had the half marathon as a blessed (and muscle-soreness-inducing) distraction. On Monday (yesterday) at 10am, the interested families had to have their profiles in to be shown to BM. Joy had told me on Friday that she’d be able to tell me on Monday morning just what the pool looked like – yep, she’d give us the stats on the “competition.” I waited ALL DAY for an email or a phone call. I finally caved at 1pm-ish and sent a ‘just-checking-in-but-totally-harassing’ email. No response. Nothing.

[Again, God provided another major distraction. Mike’s come down with a nasty cold/stomach flu situation. It’s awful and now I’m just praying that my sore throat does not develop into the same thing...So, while the lack of communication was VERY frustrating, I did have other things going on. And, I, of course, have the constant Matthew-Zachary distraction duo to keep me busy. But still, this mind just won’t shut off.]

Finally, this morning, I got an email from Joy. Turns out she, too, had been sick over the weekend and wasn’t at work yesterday. She apologized for not being able to communicate – she knew it must’ve been torture. She said that BM did come in and collect the family profiles, but they had no idea how long she would take to decide. Great! More waiting! But, uh, picking the future family of your children is KINDA a big thing, so I can see why you wouldn’t want to rush that decision.

Joy COULD tell us that there were TEN families in the pool and that we were number five (based on completion of home study). Basically, they just stack them so the families who have been waiting the longest are on top and then it gradually moves to those newest to Child Search. OK, a one-in-ten chance. Got it. But do we got it? Are we what this Birth Mom is looking for? You just never know what little thing in your “birth parent letter” or in one of your photos will be THE THING that tugs at the Birth Mom. What little minute detail is enough to convince a mother to give HER child to become YOUR child?

I’m thankful that today’s wait wasn’t long. Joy called twenty minutes after emailing. BM had made her decision and contacted the BM Counselor this morning. Joy started the conversation like this, “Hey Jen, it’s Joy. So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news…but it’s not you guys this time ‘round.”

I immediately launched into autopilot, “Oh, OK. That’s totally fine. You know, it’s kind of a relief! I mean two more – maybe even three kids! It was a little daunting. So, it just wasn’t meant to be. I’m just glad BM found a family for her two girls…” Meanwhile, I’m wondering how many times Joy has had to start a conversation with “I hate to be the bearer of bad news.” How hard would it be to hear that when you’ve tried to have children for years, finally decided to adopt, finally feel like you’ve found the one(s) and then find out that “oh, sorry, you’re not the ones?!!” Gah. The heart break.

I’ve told myself that through this process, I’m allowed to get sad. Obviously, it goes without saying. It’s only been twice now that we’ve had “the feeling” and put our name in with a lot of hope. Both times have hurt. I can’t imagine that it will get any better. You have to open yourself up for these little girls – especially when you see their sweet little faces and you know their beautiful names. You have to take a moment to imagine – to put yourself in that place – of calling THIS specific child “your own.” You imagine them, for the first time calling YOU Mama. It can’t help but hurt. Kind of a lot.

I know, I know. It wasn’t meant to be. It wasn’t God’s plan. Blahblahblah. When the time is right we’ll get the baby girl who is ours – The One. But until then…for now…we wait.

One last little race tidbit. My favorite, actually. The best part of the race for me was at around mile 12. We were in downtown Seattle where the streets were lined with spectators and supporters. I was running on the far outside of the pack – closest to my cheering and adoring fans. I always make it a point to say, “thank you” or at least smile to someone who looks me in the eye and wishes me well. I also gave out a fair amount of high fives while I ran by cheerleading squads and volunteers. At some point during mile 12, I locked eyes with a woman who gave me an encouraging smile and yelled, “Good job!”

I looked at her and as I ran by shouted with eager anticipation, “Am I gonna win??!!” For a split second she looked confused – really contemplating if I was serious. Oh, that poor sad, crazy lady thinks she’s just got several thousand people to speed by and she has a shot at winning this thing. This thought lasted just a second before she laughed.

And, no, I didn’t win – which Zach has reminded me of a couple of times. He’s said, “Well, you didn’t win, but you did your best. And you DID get a medal.” True dat.

It’s good for the boys to see that even though I know I won’t win (obviously), I still like to set goals and push myself to do even better…like next year, on June 25th, 2011 when I’ll get BELOW two hours! (Don’t mock me, but I’m already registered!) And I’ll start training…just as soon as I can walk without immense pain. Until then, I’m going to enjoy my personal victory and a glass ‘o celebratory Pinot Noir.

So, I’ve officially got another Half Marathon under my belt!! As of this morning, that makes 3 Half Marathons and one (and only one!!!) Full Marathon. But who’s counting, right? Um, me. TOTALLY me. ‘Cuz they’re freakin’ hard and I can’t even believe that I – chubby Jenny – am capable of running 1 mile let alone 13.1 (and once – and only once! – 26.2). It’s just crazy talk. Who does that? I’ll tell you who: 27000+ crazy people at the Seattle Rock ‘n Roll Marathon this morning!, that’s who.

And I’m very happy to say that I “PR-ed” (running lingo for Personal Record). My best previous Half was my first one in June, 2007. I finished 13.1 miles in 2hrs.5mins. with a 9:44/mile average. I was REALLY hoping to get UNDER two hours today, and I was SO close. I finished in 2hrs.1min.44sec. with a 9:18/mile average. Darn it! Guess this just means I’ll have to run AT LEAST one more Half to try to shave off that 1min.44.  I’m proud of myself though and so glad it’s done!

Mikey and the boys were at mile 8.5 to cheer me on and snap a few pictures. Unfortunately ‘cuz I was SUCH a blur of fastness (yeah, right), Mike was only able to get one picture of me and my eyes are closed!! I promise I didn’t run the whole thing with my eyes closed…just some of it…you know, I needed an extra challenge. (Sorry to all the people I bumped into and knocked outta my way). Just kidding.

Mike really is the one that deserves a medal though. Apparently, keeping track of the boys on the sidelines of a huge race is not easy work. And, I’m very sad to report, that at one point my children were “those kids.” You know, they were those kids that are doing something so lame and not cool that typically when I see that behavior I think, “Those poor parents. Thank goodness MY children would never do something so awful.” Um, yeah, for some reason the boys decided to just ever so nonchalantly fling just a bit ‘o sand on some of the people running by. Yeah, because that’s normal! And a great idea! Sheesh! Again, I apologize to the runners.

The boys have definitely been keeping me plenty busy this first week of summer vacation. We need a sign like those seen at warehouse stores/work places, “Injury free for ____ days.” So, far, with three consecutive days of bike riding we’ve had three days of pretty bad injury. Matthew was on for days 1 & 2. He wiped out both times in the exact same spot – exiting my neighbors’ driveway. He scraped up his hand the first day. Day 2, he scraped up his hand worse and added one knee and a really badly scraped elbow. Poor kiddo. That cry was loud enough that a couple of neighbors checked to make sure that everything was OK. Zachary, did a creative spill for Day 3. And Mike’s sister and brother-in-law (who’d been in town briefly from Coeur d’Alene) got to see it. Zach did some sort of fall situation where he managed to hit his eye on the handlebars. He’s rockin’ a shiner and a couple of scratches really close to his eyeball.

We’re getting into a summer groove though. The boys and I have a schedule for everyday. And most days from 8:30ish or 9ish ‘til 9:30 or 10ish or so we do “work time.” (As in school-type work, work time). Matthew, we were told, does not need glasses, but he definitely needs some help academically. I have a neighbor/friend who teaches Kindergarten and is a tutor. They live just a few streets over and have two kiddos that we’ve done playdates with. She’ll work with Matthew from 9-10 twice a week for six weeks. I’m SO thankful that we’ll be able to get him some help. Hopefully to just get him feeling more confident and caught up for first grade, but also, Megan will be able to tell us if it will be worth the time and money to get him tested for learning disabilities. We’ll see…

I take Zachary in this afternoon (on a Saturday! Go figure!) to see the Pediatric Urologist to determine if he (Zach, not the doctor) needs surgery for his hernia. Our Pediatrician seemed fairly confident that that will be our outcome. I’ll keep ya posted!

And now, if you'd excuse me, I need to go ice my legs. Where’s my masseuse?? Pool boy? Umbrella drink? I did get spoiled though. I came home to pictures drawn by the boys (and the sign they held at the race), a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine (which I’ll save for later) and some chocolate!! Well done, Michael. Well, done. He really does deserve a medal.

Yeah, yeah, we love our kids unconditionally. Even when they are little stink-heads and you kinda wanna wallop ‘em, you still love them so hard it makes your heart ache. It can take my breath away sometimes – that blobby-knot creeps up in the back of my throat and my eyes start a-blinkin’ back the tears. And sometimes they just stress you out. They stress you out so much that you’re convinced that God actually made a mistake and you weren’t meant to be a mother, but actually a celibate cloistered nun. But He didn’t. Nope, no mistake. I love these kids, but holy majoly they stress me out!

This ‘lil here bloggeroo will be focused on one of our offspring: “The Monkey…Jenny Junior…Angel Baby…Baby Cakes…Zacharoo…” Zachary is one tough little hard-core piece of four-year-old manly boyness. He is gregarious. He cracks himself up. He tells knock-knock jokes that are usually ridiculously lame and of the four year old persuasion but every once in a while he’ll tell a great joke, like this, “What do rainy clouds wear under their clothes?...THUNDERwear!” (For the record, he did hear this on “Sid the Science Kid,” but he didn’t share it with us for a few days, AND he has impeccable comedic timing).

Zachary gets bruised and bonked and dinged up and isn’t super quick to cry about it. He’s tough and yet he’s also the kid who will call urgently for me from downstairs. I go rushing down thinking that there’s a fire or some equally awful emergency like he’s gonna pee his pants or he sees a spider or something. Then when I get down there, Zach smiles up at me for a moment like he forgot what he needed so badly and says simply, “I love you.”

Zach has had a tough couple of days, but you sure wouldn’t know it. I had decided that since Matthew only has one more full week of school ‘til summer break, Zach and I should do some fun activities together. So, yesterday morning, I surprised Zach with a trip to the zoo. I told him that he would get to pick every single animal that we saw and each activity we did. Thankfully, we did have time to eat a picnic lunch by the otters and we’d just gotten over to the new Meerkat exhibit when I happened to notice that I had a message on my cell phone. Zach and I were headed to the indoor play area that he was SO excited to visit while I listened to my message. It was the school. “Hello, Mrs. Martin this is Mrs. Blah-blah-blah, and I’ve got Matthew here in the school clinic. He has a slight fever and you’ll need to come pick him up.”

Poop. And of all the Mondays. Typically we’d be home doing laundry or out running errands (conveniently close to the school), but no, not this time. We were a good 20 minute drive away plus the 15 minute walk through the zoo to the car. I told Zach that we were going to have to leave because Matthew was sick. I prepared myself for some major-disappointment sadness-action. But instead, Zach just sighed and said, “Poor Matthew.” Now, he’s no 4 yr. old saint, he did complain a bit about not getting to play at the Zoomazium, but he left the zoo quickly and with no fight at all. I didn’t have to promise crazy things – just that we’d start at the Zoomazium next time. He didn’t get any bribery from me – no pet pony or elephant for him!

(Matthew – is totally fine, by the way. Had a brief, random fever so I had to keep him home from school today. Oh, and he doesn’t need eyeglasses…more on that whole situation eventually…someday…not right now).

Today, Zachary had his (yes, a little late) four year “well check” visit with our pediatrician. Zachary has literally grown at least an inch in the last month, so I wasn’t surprised to learn that he’s in the 90th percentile for height and still 50th percentile for weight. (Dude, I would LOVE to have those kinds of measurements). And his butt cheeks are still as cute as they were when he was six months old. They haven’t grown any bigger or any less cute in 3.5 years. Just so ya know.

Dr. Benda surprised me a little bit after listening to his heart. “Well, huh…He does have quite a strong heart murmur. And since his chest wall is so thin, it’s really pronounced. But it’s kind of regular in its’ irregularity. So, I’ll just make a note of it and we’ll check it every time.” Um, huh? Heart murmur? Thin chest wall? Yeah, OK.

Then when it came time to look at Zach’s manly-boy parts, I noticed again a bit of hesitation from her. She poked around his tummy below his belly button, and after looking quite puzzled said, “Huh!” Gotta love it when a doctor says that! Turns out, Zach most likely has a hernia that will require surgery. We’ll be setting up an appointment with a Pediatric Urologist at Children’s Hospital next week to find out if surgery is in order (Dr. Benda seems to think so). Great.

And lastly, the appointment was topped off with not 1, not 2, no FIVE shots. Zach cried a tiny bit and then shook it off as soon as I reminded him that they said he’d get FIVE stickers. When we got home, Zach proceeded to share his FIVE stickers with the rest of us. Mike proudly sported a Spiderman sticker on his chest all night. And I have an “Awesome Patient” Kung-Fu Panda sticker sitting right next to my laptop. A heart murmur, an upcoming surgery, FIVE shots, and then, while we’re cuddling on the couch reading a bedtime story I accidentally – I swear! – jab him in the eyeball with my thumb. He rubs it a bit and gives me a look like, “Seriously, woman? Haven’t I been through enough?!” Then, in his sweet little way – working the system a bit – he says he’s just TOO tired to walk to bed and would I carry him. Well, I can’t say no to that. It’s the least I can do. So, NOW, what do I do? I clasp him by his upper arms – right where he received his FIVE shots – and tug him up. My dad asked why I didn’t bother just dropping him on his head since I was on such a roll. Thank goodness, Zachary is asleep for the night, where I can’t do him anymore damage…let’s hope.