So Natalie does this thing that we call her warm rock impression. Basically it's where she goes up to an adult and says "I need you. I need hold you." (and melts them), then when she is picked up, she pretty much melts in to your body and holds you.

For some reason, her favorite person on the planet is my big, gruff, father. Don't get the wrong impression - my dad is one of my favorite people on the planet too. I'm pumped that his relationship with Natalie gives me more reason to spend time with him, not that I really needed another one. But still, my dad is the kind of guy you would want to have your back in a bar brawl, not the kind of guy you imagine snuggling a baby (unless you're me and you were his baby and snuggled on his lap basically through high school....that sounds a lot creepier than it actually was....)

ANYWAY, let's get the crazy train back on track here a little, this is Natalie. Warm rocking my dad. And shortly after I took this picture he said "Okay hunny, you want a pony? You want a new car? Whatever you want Natalie, you just ask Grandpa and he'll get it for you."



Not bad for a man who once told my mother "We can get married but I'm not very good with kids so I don't think we should have any." Now he has two daughters, a son, a daughter in law and a son in law, and three granddaughters. Way to stick to your guns Dad.

This is from October 24th, two days after our adoption was final. I'm moving it from Xanga to here because, after reading everything that I have on Blogger, it felt appropriate. I think this is a more accurate story of what happened during the adoption and what I felt than what I put on Xanga. I want to remember these moments, the peace that came after the storm. I want to be able to share it with the girls when they ask.






There is this space, this gap, this bridge between before and after, then and now. We're not sure when we crossed it - in the court house? in the lawyers office afterward? on the drive home? - but when we did, we left it all behind us.

Oh sure, we're still staring down a mountain of lawyers bills. There are still a few months left to wait for new birth certificates - and with them, the ability to change the girls names and social security numbers. The adoption being over doesn't mean we're done talking about it or thinking about it or planning out how to best explain all of this in the coming months and years to our daughters.

But that's just it - for the first time, we can say our daughters and it's completely true. They're not "well, I mean, basically our kids..." or "our daughters, well, kind of...almost..." and we don't struggle with how best to explain our situation to people. There's nothing to explain. We're family. We're us. That's it.






We were in the kitchen last night, he and I, dancing around one another as I cooked and he put away clean dishes. Music was playing and we could hear the girls giggling in the living room, playing with the balloons his parents had brought as adoption day gifts. I rounded the corner to check on them and stopped for a moment, smiling as they smiled, laughing as they laughed, knowing every tiny expression that crossed their faces. The tears started almost before I realized it and I turned to bury my face in him, sobbing without catching my breath, overwhelmed with it all. I wasn't sure if I was overjoyed or my heart was breaking - I wasn't really sure what I felt at all except I did feel it all, every single bit of the past two years, every miscarriage and every hospital visit, every moment of the ride there and back to get the girls, every phone call to the lawyer and every unexpected interaction with the birth father. I felt it all and I sobbed, letting it all go, because it doesn't matter. It really doesn't matter anymore, not in the least, because we're here. We're right here, all four of us, together.
And nothing can stop that anymore.






The joy and happiness in our house last night, filled to the brim with people, was incredible. I couldn't help but think that this was right where they belonged, right where we all belonged, in the midst of this crowd, laughing and enjoying one another.





He and I hold hands and talk in bed every night, perhaps one of the only things that has sustained us through these months. He asked me if I felt it and I said yes, I felt it, I felt the lack of pressure and stress. I felt whole again, normal, free. I felt the absence of the crippling panic that had seeped in to our home. I felt it and I rejoiced in the feeling, in the being able to feel, in the allowing myself to feel. I felt it and I enjoyed feeling, I gave my emotions audience without concern. He asked me if I felt it, felt life, and I said yes.






Today we ran errands. We held hands, we laughed, we got a million little things checked off our list. Somehow, all the things that need to get done are a lot less overwhelming. The biggest thing on the list has been checked off, the rest is details. Today we were the parents we've always wanted to be. We simply enjoyed our children.






It's only been a day but I see the difference in small things. Upon realizing the toothbrushes we have for the girls have been around almost as long as the girls have been, we added it to our Target list. I bought a six pack of toothbrushes for them because now I know that they will use all six of them. I've purchased Christmas presents - taking joy in the purchase of the dollhouse we originally had discussed giving as a birthday present back in June. Neither of us said it then but as much as we knew she wanted that dollhouse, we also knew it would be a nightmare to move.

We don't worry about how complicated it would be to repack their things anymore. I don't startle at small noises, I sleep with all the lights off and I don't feel a need to triple check to make sure the doors are locked. It feels like as soon as that adoption decree was signed my fear and concerns packed up and moved away. Good riddance.







When we first got them almost a year ago, I would go in several times a night to check on them. I don't know what I was checking on but I felt a need to make sure they were there, they were okay, everything was fine.
The past three nights I've spent significant amounts of time sitting on the floor in their room. Three nights ago, it was to pray fervently. Last night it was to cry quietly. Tonight, it was to marvel at my family, my daughters. They are there, flesh and blood, real. They are laying in their beds and they are ours.





Pulling a mattress out to the living room floor, giggling, gathering pillows. Squishing in together, small hands in big hands, settling in with blankets and stuffed animals. A foot on my stomach, hair against my cheek. The movie doesn't matter, the tradition is what we want to start. The weekly movie date as a family, all of us doing this, nestled in together. Smiling at each of them in turn - him, small, tall - and hearing my heart release a sigh of relief, hearing every fiber of my being say yes, if this is what every Friday night for the rest of my life looks like, count me in.

Cross posted from Xanga, 30 days of Thankfulness

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Dear David, At this point four years ago we were together then apart then together then apart, going back and forth because I didn't know what I was doing. You terrified me with your patience and kindness. It was the first time in my life that someone stuck by me, not because they had to but because they wanted to. It was the first time someone chose me in spite of my baggage and messiness. I am so thankful that you did. I don't really know how we ended up married. Life was so complicated because I was making it that way, thinking I would thrive in the chaos. Truthfully, the only time I do thrive is in the calm that you bring. The only time I feel settled is when you hold me. Today, I am thankful for the calm you bring me. My mother always told me that she married my dad, not because she loved him, but because she knew that in time she would. All she knew on her wedding day was that he made her happy, that the world felt brighter when he was around, and that if they didn't get married she would regret it for the rest of her life. When I started dating you, my father took me aside and said you were everything they would have picked for me and that if I didn't just let you love me, let you marry me, I would spend the rest of my life regretting it. Today, I'm thankful that I listened to my parents. We have so much fun together, you and I. We laugh and we talk and we play. We dance in the kitchen, we kiss and hug and snuggle, we hold hands. We are grossly affectionate and knowing that doesn't make me stop. You make me smile even when I don't want to. You make me laugh when I'm furious with you and even though it makes me even angrier, I can't stay mad for long. You're just too darn easy to love. Today, I am thankful for all the good times we've had together. One of the ways I knew you loved me was the fact that any time something was difficult or complicated or hard, you wanted to be there. You wanted to be with me and fix it or at least hold me until I thought life was easier. If I struggled, you wanted to make it easier. With every hard thing that we've encountered in the past four years you have never walked away from me. Miscarriages and health problems and family issues and the sudden addition of two children - every single time you just shrugged and carried on, making sure that we made it through the rough parts with smiles and our hearts relatively intact. Today, I am thankful for your persistently sunny disposition and your faith in our ability to survive the tough stuff. You always know the very best things to say. Things like telling me I'm a great mom or that I look lovely, complimenting the very little housework I did manage to get done, being proud of my grades or my intelligence, encouraging me to carry on with my career goals even though life around us has changed drastically. I have never had reason to doubt your faith in me, your love for me or your dedication to me. Today, I am thankful for the way you look at me, like I'm the only person you have ever seen, like I'm the only person in world you can ever imagine looking at. There are so many ways I love you and I don't think I could ever explain any of them. So I will say this - you were worth it. If I had to take every step of my journey again, if I had to do it all over, I would. I would relive the heartbreak and the struggles, the times I curled on the bottom of a hot shower and sobbed so hard I thought my chest would break in half, the times I felt worthless and disgusting. I would do it all over again because it brought me, little step by little step, to you. And every single moment of our life together has been worth it. Today, I am thankful that I get to spend the rest of my life in love with you. I love you lots and lots and lots and some days just a little bit more, Me

Oh what the heck, why not

I really need to not ignore this blog for months on end. Especially since I use it to comment on other blogs and therefore look like a total creeper. "Hey! I'm stalking you but I don't have anything over here!"

That's totally reassuring.

But look! Gratuitous pictures of my kids! And they're even holding hands!

Is anybody else shocked and offended that it's December? Or is that just me? I'm not entirely certain where the rest of this year has gone and I don't really like it.

Further proof that we are, in fact, pretty cool parents, we took the girls to the Science Center last week.

Marley did this:






Natalie did this :


Then we went to the Turtle Park, where Natalie decided to participate in family fun.









And that? Is all she wrote.

One year (and about one hour) ago, I got a phone call from my cousin. Six hours later, we were on our way to Chicago. Five hours after that, we were meeting her. Fifteen minutes after that, we were on the way back home with these in the back seat: Our first day as a family we voted for Obama, went to Target to get the necessities, and our house looked like it exploded baby : David learned how to do hair : And we took the girls to the playground, where I got one of my favorite pictures ever : We didn't know how long the girls would be staying with us. Everything about those first 48 hours, from the phone call to getting home, to tucking them in to bed that night, was emotional and huge for us. I didn't know we'd survive that. I didn't realize how much more we would be called to deal with. Looking back, I didn't realize just how confused the girls were. We just kind of made it up as we went along and hoped for the best. That very first morning (November 4th) I went in to get them when we heard them making noise and they were both in the same crib, holding hands and jumping up and down. It's silly, but I want to remember that. I want to remember every single second. I want to remember seeing this on our first week together and realizing that even though we didn't really know what was going to happen, for the time we were together it would be good : We made it one entire year. We made it through David being gone our second week : And we made it through Natalie slicing her head open : We got through Thanksgiving and Christmas : And we got to celebrate Natalie's first birthday : We started an adoption as we worked our way through the last of winter and in to spring : We survived Natalie and I getting rotovirus : And we got a summer together, where we took swim lessons and spent a lot time at the pool : We celebrated my birthday : And we remodeled rooms while continuing to work on the adoption that was going anything but normal. We survived Marley having the stomach flu during our trip to Michigan and sleeping through an entire four hour Ikea trip. We made it to fall : We made it through the start of preschool : We even made it to an adoption day, finally : And we made it back to where we started, just one year later. That phone call one year ago altered my life forever. Somewhere along the way we went from being four people who were managing to survive together to being knit together in to a family, thriving only when all of us are together. My Dearest Girls, My love for you has settled in to my very soul and I am no one without you now. I cannot wait to see what lies ahead for our family. Love, Mama My Wonderful Husband, Thank you for immediately saying "Let's go get the girls" when I told you my cousin was struggling and that she needed us. You are the most amazing father and husband. Every day I am grateful for you. Love, Your Wife My Oldest Friend, There aren't words for the gratitude I have towards you. I can't imagine the way I would begin to thank you for the gifts you've given us. I love you so much. Love, Your Cousin Dear Kait circa June 2008, Don't worry, you'll have kids eventually. And it will be so much more that you could have ever imagined. Love, Kait circa November 2009

Adventures of Marley and the Llama faker

Only funny because one of the nicknames for our vicious man eater ball of pit bull loving is Llama.

Dear Small, Stop growing up now please. You're almost too big to fall asleep on my lap and that is simply unacceptable. Thanks for your prompt attention to this matter. Love, The Management Edited to add: This picture is from about nine months ago, the first one is from tonight. Does anyone else see how different her face looks and how much older she looks? Because it's seriously pretty much killing me to realize how much she's grown.