ag·o·ny

ag·o·ny

1. extreme and generally prolonged pain; intense physical or mental suffering.

2. a display or outburst of intense mental or emotional excitement: an agony of joy.

3. the struggle preceding natural death: mortal agony.

4. a violent struggle.

5. (often initial capital letter) Theology. the sufferings of Christ in the garden of Gethsemane.

Yep. that pretty much sums it all up. Monday, total joy. Tuesday, worry. Wed. agony. Thursday, cried all day. Friday, Sat, Sun, depression. Monday, back to work.

He was here, and once again, we left and came home without him.

agony.

I thought the waiting part was hard. I thought no knowing if we would ever adopt was hard. I thought the letters and homestudy and paperwork and preparations were hard. But this? This is total agony. We were matched! We have a precious little guy fighting in the NICU, waiting to come home. We were there, we held him and kissed him, fed him, changed him, and fell in love with him in about 30 seconds flat. But he's not here yet. I just didn't forsee this or prepare for this kind of agony. I don't feel like answering calls, and I don't feel like explaining to people. I just feel like watching the clock for the days, hours, minutes, and seconds to go by so I can bring him home.

I did find some good news today! The Ronald McDonald house will let me stay there when I decide to go back! $10.oo a night. It's a little far from the hospital, but it's just the kind of news I needed. I guess some people are realistic. They like to look at situations and make sure they are prepared for the worst. Not me. I like to see the possibilities. I truly believe if there is a will, there is a way. There is always a stone unturned, or something hidden you might have missed. My glass will always be half full instead of half empty, and even through all of this, I believe with all my heart that anything is possible. The Bible says that right?
"With God, all things are possible."

A great nurse who was wonderful to us when we were there took a few pictures of Oliver today. She says he is so cute and doing well. Hopefully, he will be home soon. I hope, I hope, I hope...

He's HERE!........

He's here! Finally! The wait is over..and he's all ours! It's been a crazy, emotional, exhausting day, but he is finally ours. Pictures below for everyone "dying" to see them!

Off Again........

Baby boy was born last night. He is 6lbs 3 oz.

We are leaving tomorrow on a plane to head back down.

The surrender will be signed around 11....before we even get there.

Until tomorrow.............

The Puzzle.

Isn't life interesting. You can look back and clearly see the irony in situations, or the glaringly obvious direction you were supposed to take. You can see how the pieces fit together and form a big picture. It makes sense and has continuity without jagged edges. The straight edges of the puzzle all fit together and the picture is perfect. BUT, in the moment, you have no idea where each piece will fit. Does it go in the top of the puzzle, the bottom? Is it a corner piece, one that is necessary to hold everything together? Is it a piece that has an entire face on it, and the whole will look unfinished without it? Or could it just be a simple piece that shows grass or clouds or something that doesn't affect the outcome of the puzzle at all? I can look back and see specific moments in my life that are almost unbelievable to me now.

For example, when I started teaching, before I had any children, I told friends and family that one day I would like to be a foster parent.

Or, one day, after I had Cole, I walked into my mother's house and told her that I was going to be a surrogate mother! Imagine that! After all these years, and efforts. After the surgeries and more surgery. I thought so simply and absentmindedly that this is so easy and I could just do it again and again. More so, that I could do it for someone else. I'll never forget what she said to me, "NO, this pregnancy was so hard on your body and your health, you can't risk that for someone!" Ha. I laugh at that now. How funny. Irony, sweet irony. I of course replied, "Yes, but there are people who can't do this. And everyone should get to experience being a mother if they desire to."

We finally got in the car on Tuesday and headed back home. BM could possibly not be due until March 18th. She was in the hospital twice thinking she was in labor, but she wasn't. She wasn't ready to have the baby. And all I could think about and worry about was the wasted time. The time off work, and away from our normal schedule and daily life. The sick time I was using to sit 18 hours away and wait patiently. The money that was going right down the drain.

We did get to meet BM and BFather. Which was an experience like no other. I honestly think sometimes I'm making a movie, starring me! It's my own personal show, and even if I told people about it they couldn't even believe it. Is this just how adoption is? Have other felt this exact same way?

So we drove and drove and drove our little rear ends back home and went to work today. Depressing. The good news is that she still wants us to parent, and she is still going to have the baby at some point. We will have to go back. So we are back to where we were before....so close, but yet, so far away.

It was frustrating, and irritating, and painful. It was like all the joy built up, and then another let down. And I felt like once again, I was walking away empty handed. My husband and I had a long talk one of the nights before we left. I tried to explain to him that life is like this, and this whole infertility thing has left me scarred. It leaves marks that don't leave. Pieces fall off, and soon you begin to view the world in a whole new way. I told him I am changed because of all this. The scars are there, and they probably will always be there. And then he says to me something I know I will never forget for as long as I live.... he says, "I can handle scars, I just wish the bleeding will stop." UH. I felt like I just got punched right in the gut, it broke my heart.

So my question tonight is, where does this piece fit? Will I be able one day to look back and see exactly how this completes the whole picture? Or will it just be one of those things that are messy and unclear? One of those puzzles that are 5000 pieces and you can never finish them no matter how hard you try? Wouldn't it be nice if we knew where the piece fit before we picked it up? Before we leaned over the table and searched aimlessly for the color or size or shape that matched it? Before we labored over it, only to return it to the pile and pick up another piece that might be easier to place?

I do know one thing, that man, MY man was meant for me. He gives me that look that says exactly how he feels about me. He would walk to the ends of the earth for me. He would go through infertility and adoption with me, and still come out loving me, and laughing with me. He will handle all the crazy irrational ideas I have. He will love me for my passion and drive and all the things that drive him straight crazy. And maybe this piece is just a big fat piece of glue that was meant to be stuck right between us.

So I will match my post with my music. As the tears streamed down my face, I will let his light guide me home, and "Fix me."