It's a match! Or is it?

Two weeks ago, Tim and I made the journey up to Oklahoma to meet with two expectant birthmoms who might be a match for us. As the clock runs down on the license of our agency, these two situations were the last of the opportunities for us before we pulled the plug and switched offices. We were excited about our almost secretive adventurous weekend... very few knew about our trip.

If you have seen Juno, you know a little about what it might be like for two excited potential parents to sit down with a young lady whose whole world has been turned upside down. You walk into a room and try not to look at the belly that may have your kid inside. My nature is to try to think about how others are feeling and to comfort them if I can, however, I confess that when sitting across from these girls (I've met with 4 now), the questions that run through my mind are: Are you taking vitamins? Have you been drinking? What is your IQ? I know- it sounds bad. I'm just being honest.

The meeting with a birthmom can be extremely awkward... especially when her parents are in the room clearly struggling with the dilemma of whether or not they should raise the child. When that has happened, I've felt like an intruder, stumbling upon a family crippled with pain, and somehow, partly responsible.

The last birthmom we met with was different than all the others. We met in the hotel room of our social worker, and contrary to Number Three, when we walked in this time, the room was peaceful; her aura was gentle and calm. Number Four seemed grounded and determined to give the baby she was carrying a better life. She believed in a mission of love, and she took control of the room. She was a mother crafting a path for her child to succeed and rise above difficult circumstances, no matter how much it would hurt her.

I have been met with a number of slanted questions towards the "heartlessness" of a birthmom. How could she just give her baby up? As a child, I remember hearing the story of the mother of Moses, who purposefully devised a plan to place him into the arms of a woman capable of keeping him safe and providing a better life. If you didn't know that Pharoah's men were looking to kill the Isrealite babies, you might have judged the woman for leaving her 3 month old in the grass by a river. I have wondered who could just leave a newborn at a fire station these days, but I guess you never know. Most of these birthmoms carry their babies in the face of judgement (when they certainly have other options) and reach out to agencies in a spirit of sacrifice and love for their children. They go through the pain of child birth with sometimes, little support from others, and let go of part of themselves because it's the right thing to do. Birthmoms are superwomen.

Back to the meeting with Number Four... By the end of our time together, she let us know that if we were interested in the baby boy she would be delivering the first week of June, she wanted us to be his parents. This situation was just about as good as they get. She was confident in us, was almost at the end of a healthy pregnancy, wasn't asking for unreasonable adoption terms, and everyone in her family and on the birthfather side of the equation was compliant with the plan. Could this be the one? Again, I had to keep the eyes off the belly.

Since returning home from that wild trip, we've been scrambling to get the baby room ready and to make sure that our bosses and coworkers can survive our sudden absence in case things happen even faster. Baby shower or no shower? We need supplies, but what if this one falls through too? We're walking in faith one day at a time, but we have to make plans fast!

There are a number of common reasons for failed adoptions. In no particular order... Number one, birthmom or birthdad figures out another way. Number two, extended family steps in. Number three, she loses the baby. Number four, adoptive family backs out. Number five, the birthmother fills out paperwork and lists an affiliation with a certain Indian tribe and depending on her level of Native American blood, the adoption may be subject to Tribal Court... WHAT???? Of all the possibilities, I never saw that last one coming! That right. We are waiting to hear from an attorney to see if this baby is too Indian to go to the Casillas tribe. UN-BE-FREAKIN-LIEVABLE!

In the next few days, we should find out if this new development is a deal-breaker. In looking back at the twists and turns in our adoption journey, I really couldn't make this stuff up! Some days I just can't help but laugh, and some days, I get so frustrated, I can hardly stand it. Just give me a hug or buy me a Starbucks, but if I hear "it'll happen when it's supposed to happen" one more time, I might kick you in the shin.

Thanks for your understanding. :)

My "favoritest" time

"Mom, do you miss being a kid?" "Not really?" "WHY? Wasn't being a kid your favoritest time in your whole life?" "No, being a grown up is my favorite time."

I was sitting in the backseat watching my mom drive as she was rocking her beautiful curly 80's hairdo and Lea Haller pink blush. What a relief. I was hoping that life didn't go down from here. The little frog I had rescued from underneath our peach tree had died in the box in my bedroom and Morgan had just told me on the playground the day before that she didn't want to be my jump roping partner any more. I looked like a nerd with my glasses. I was glad that my favoritest time was still ahead of me.

So you may have noticed that I have been somewhat quiet over the last year and a half. I could say that it is because my writing material consisted of the gradual decline of my grandmother's health and transitioning her care into my mother's hands. Every time I would sit down to blog, the saddness would penetrate into every passage that had an original outline of inspiration or wit. The other reason is because Tim and I have been walking through a journey of beginning our family in a quite unconventional way. Our adventures in adoption seem to always warrant un-warranted opinions, and up to this point, the plan has changed three times. If I had written the story of the adoption, it might go something like this:

Month 1- Tim and I are adopting a baby from Thailand from one of the only agencies in the country to have a Thai program... I'm going to be a mama to a sweet toddler from my favorite country in the universe!!!!!!
Month 7- Our agency just changed hands. There is no Thailand program.
Month 8- We are adopting an infant from Kansas. We could have a baby any day now.
Month 10- We are adopting our friend's sister's baby... Too complicated. Back to Kansas.
Month 11- We are adoptiong a baby from Texas. We're going independent. Everything is perfect... She lost the baby.
Month 12- Our agency is closing.

So you now see why I wrote in my journal and chose not to share... until now.

Don't get me wrong... I haven't been in a deep dark cave talking to my volleyball. Life hasn't been a smooth ride lately, but who likes tubing down a river without a few rapids (other than Tim)? A smooth ride would be so boring! More than ever, I feel so alive! I'm in love! I have a sleep number bed and my number is 25!

I decided to start blogging because I feel like I'm beginning to learn that the large rocks of life will always appear, but that flowing right over and around them is quite possible. More than anything, I feel like I'm about to begin my "favoritest" time. Stay tuned.