100 Griffins

Griffin is pretty much obsessed with TV, which is pretty much hilarious based on the amount of TV Jamie and I watch...very little.  I asked him one day if he could have anything, what would he have.  He responded with 100 TVs.  I asked him what he thinks I'd have if I could have anything I wanted.  He responded with 100 Griffins.

If only he knew.

Happy Tears

I was daydreaming about our baby today.  Holding our baby for the first time, tears streaming down my face, not only literally, but in my dream, too.  I think about holding his or her precious face to mine knowing that it was all worth it.  Worth the wait.

I have a feeling that the blog posts I add after we adopt will involve lots of photos of me with tears running down my cheeks....lots of happy tears.

This is secretly how I imagine it....I guess it won't be secret anymore

These are the thoughts that run through my mind.  Daily.  Usually when I am in the car, but sometimes more.  If you see me daydreaming, this is what it's all about.....

My cell phone rings and we find out that we've been blessed to be adoptive parents of a baby who has been born, and is at the hospital waiting for us.  We drop everything and go.  Hours later we are holding our baby (though not officially our baby yet). 

For some reason the whirlwind adoption story is what I dream about...day after day.....

The details change, sometimes we run to Target to get a car seat, sometimes I call one of my friends to say "WE GOT THE CALL!!!  By the way can you pick us up a car seat?"  Sometimes I imagine calling my mom, Jamie's parents, our siblings, our friends.  Sometimes I imagine taking the time to get the crib set up and sometimes I dump a tub of clothes in the wash.  Sometimes I am at work, sometimes I am at home in sweats, sometimes I'm with a friend.  I always cry, and I do in real life just thinking about it.

I imagine thanking, thanking, thanking our baby's birth mother.  I wonder if she will ever understand the amazing gift she has given us.  The gift of being parents again.

The magical day we get the call.  Christmas for the Thompsons.  Knowing that everything we've been praying for, waiting for, dreaming of, is finally here.

It's wonderful to dream about each day.  And, when the real story unfolds, it's going to be wonderful to share it over and over again with our baby.

Until then I am going to keep on dreaming.

And, yes, I know that reality will likely be far from my dreams, but for now, I am going to keep these dreams alive.  Hope.

All is calm....

It's a little strange around here lately.  Over the last two weeks, we're not feeling over extended.  We're able to relax, admire the Christmas tree, read lots of books to the little guy and soak up life.  Typically we're trying to pack in one more thing, and for now we're just living and enjoying life.  We're able to do a little more "flying by the seat of our pants"....which I love.  No doctor's appointments, quick trips to the cities for short exams to check my ovaries and no more paperwork (for now).  It makes me realize how much time {and energy} we've spent in the last two years trying to grow our family.  I'm enjoying the calm. 

Maybe it's the calm before the storm?  (Wouldn't that be nice? A storm of dirty bottles, diapers to wash and very little sleep due to rocking a sweet little baby.)

I can dream!

35

On Monday I turned 35.  I knew this would be a tough one.  It's one of those "milestone birthdays" where you think about what you'd be doing at 35.  Years ago I figured at this point I'd be driving kiddos to games, volunteering at their school and packing lots of lunches....not still trying to have kiddos with not a whole lot of luck.  Last year on my birthday I told myself that by the time I was 35 this would be behind us, we'd be through the IVF process and hopefully have a baby in our arms or on the way.  And, if not, we'd be far along in the adoption process.  Instead, our year was miserable in terms of growing our family.  Hope, loss, hope, loss, hope, loss and now back to hope.  I don't want this hope to lead to more loss. 
Had the last baby continued to grow in me, my 35th birthday would have been my 12 week mark.  Instead it was 3.5 weeks after our miscarriage.  Some days it's hard to keep telling myself it will all work out.  I've told myself that many, many times and it really doesn't seem like things always "work out".  I know in the big picture things will look better, but, losing babies in the womb will never seem like "working out" to me....especially when we know at least one of them was a healthy baby. 
So, 35 I am, and I am going to make it a good year!