This is Why I've Been Missing

I haven't blogged in a week. This is why. I am love with a tiny, brown haired, 8 pound beautiful little boy who came into our lives all of a sudden on a Saturday morning. We have been in North Carolina loving on him, becoming a family, and all I've cared about is kissing his tiny baby hands and arms and legs and cheeks because I know how fast he'll grow up. It's been a long, humbling, uncertain week that has changed my life. Bean has a baby brother, Colin, "Cookie" as she calls him. Bean and Cookie, my daughter and my son, brought to me through two strong birth mothers and the miracle of adoption. My life is complete, I am a happy, happy mama. 

The Meaning of Love

Ok I admit, I submitted this letter for a Real Simple writing contest on love. The contest asked you to write about when you learned the true meaning of love. So I did. I didn't really think I would win and I didn't, but I don't really care. What matters is that it inspired me to write. And now that I know I definitely didn't win, I wanted to share the letter. There couldn't be anything more true and I'm thankful to the folks at Real Simple for the inspiring contest.

When Did You First Understand the Meaning of Love?

I first understood the meaning of love through the selflessness of my daughter’s birthmother. 

I am a very fortunate person. I have so much love around me, being married to the love of my life, being close to both of our parents, siblings and extended families, and of course the love of our beautiful daughter who we adopted when she was four days old. I can hardly imagine a life more full of love, so I thought I had learned the true meaning of love several times before we adopted our daughter. But it turns out I hadn’t. 

I thought I understood the meaning of love when I was growing up. I have a wonderful mom, dad, sister, thirteen cousins and dozens of aunts and uncles who I was and still am close to. There was always so much love around. My sister and I were best friends and we did everything together. There were long family vacations, easy Sunday mornings eating Cheerios, homemade Michael Jackson dance videos that we still laugh at today, and plenty of evenings spent outside waiting for the ice cream truck, staring up at the stars on warm Texas summer nights. 

I thought I understood the meaning of love when I was in middle school, when I fell deeply and insanely “in love” with three to four boys/victims who I would follow around and sneak notes to during class. Unfortunately none of them “loved” me back. 

I thought I understood the meaning of love when I was in high school, when I met my first real boyfriend who actually loved me back. When all there was to do was get homework done and then I could spend all my extra time daydreaming about building a life together with him, about being an adult and having my own family. He was my driver to and from school so I didn’t have to take the bus, my prom date, my warmth during my first cold winter in the north after growing up in the south.  This was a great love, but college changed me and a career changed him, so we gave up our daydreams and went our separate ways after high school.  

I thought I understood the meaning of love in college, when I was surrounded by the best friends and roommates a girl could have and a boyfriend who taught me how to be a truly original person.  College was such a fast blur, but the bonds of friendship created during that time of craziness, experimentation, and drama were so strong that I still love and stay in touch with all of my college friends.

I thought I understood the meaning of love in the years after college, when I finally broke out of the chains of my childhood insecurities and learned to love myself. 

I thought I understood the meaning of love when I met my husband Brandon. After a few relationships that were great but didn’t last, I wasn’t sure I had the capacity to fall so crazy in love again. I was worried that if I did the feeling might go away after a while as it had in my past relationships. But I did have the capacity to love again, and that love has never, ever gone away. In fact it has grown far stronger through the challenges we’ve faced together. 

I thought I understood the meaning of love when all of our family and friends stood by us through the painful years of infertility and the adoption wait. We struggled through two early miscarriages, three failed rounds of IUI, three failed rounds of IVF, and a 17 month adoption process that finally brought us to Emma. During that painful time we were blessed with a love so deep from the support of our families, friends and even coworkers as we rode through the roller coaster of emotions in that process. Our friends and family lifted us up when we were down, dealt with the sadness, anger, and jealousy that we felt so guilty for feeling, and were there to encourage us to keep the hope for just one more day to get through it. 

But none of this, and I mean none of it, can compare to when I actually did fully come to understand the meaning of love. I’m not belittling all the love in my life prior to this. Honestly I can’t imagine a life more full of love than the one I’ve been blessed with. But I truly, totally, and wholly learned the meaning of love on the day we met our daughter Emma. 

When her brave and wonderful birthmother so selflessly created an adoption plan so that Emma could have a life that her birthmother couldn’t give her.  This is the true meaning of love. 

When we learned that her birthmother didn’t name her because she wanted us to be able to do that so that we could be a family from the start. This is the true meaning of love. 

When I had the pleasure of a brief conversation with Emma’s birthfather the day after she was born and he told me that he was there for her birth and that she was beautiful, and that he hopes God blesses us and thanked us ten times. This is the true meaning of love. 

When I learned a few months ago that Emma’s birthmother had reached out to our agency for pictures and letters and admitted that she thinks about Emma every day and was just afraid to be in touch, she wanted to leave us alone. This is the true meaning of love. 

For all of you parents out there, think about how strong and fierce your love is for your children, and how much love it would take to admit that you wanted them to have a better life than you could give them.  Creating an adoption plan for her child was a totally selfless act that I know left a hole in Emma’s birthmother’s heart that will be there forever. That is why I believe it is the strongest love I’ve ever known, and I thank her every day for the gift she gave us and for helping me to finally understand the true meaning of love. 

Open

A blog I follow, Portrait of an Adoption, is doing a 30 day series of guest posts in honor of national adoption month. It's a great series and I recommend checking it out. Yesterday's post, Real Life, Not the TV Version, was especially meaningful to me. It was written by an adult adoptee who connected with her birth mother several years ago and has had a relationship with her since then that has helped her to fully understand who she is.

The reason it is meaningful to me is because it verifies our decision to go with a semi-open adoption, so that our daughter can have contact with her birth family if she chooses to do so in her own time. Before we entered the world of adoption I had several of the same questions that strangers and even close family and friends continue to ask me now. I often get asked if I feel threatened by the potential for Bean's family to be involved in our lives some day. Do they have any rights? Won't it be confusing for Bean to have two mothers? Am I scared that her birth mother will try to be too involved?

I can't deny asking these same questions and thinking about them often, especially before we learned about the realities of adoption.

Even now, even with knowing way more about adoption, the thought of Bean calling anyone other than me mommy brings tears to my eyes immediately. Maybe I'm not strong enough, but no matter what I learn about reality versus fiction in adoption, this thought will always make me teary-eyed.  That's why the latest post is so meaningful for me. It reminds me that this is an irrational fear. It's not based on reality and I need to let it go. I am her mommy, I always will be.

Mommy is the one who wakes up with you at night, eases your fears about monsters, rocks with you for hours when you have a bad day, makes sure you have a balanced meal every single meal of every single day, and frets over the details of how to transition from the crib to the bed. As Bean grows up with us, I continue to grow and learn what being a mommy is all about. Her birth mother gave me the gift of being a mommy. She will be Bean's birth mother forever, I will be her mommy. I have to have faith that my daughter will know that. Hearing this from an adoptee is incredibly reassuring.

Do I worry about it being confusing for Bean? Yes. Even though she knows she is adopted and knows her birth parent's names and has a picture of them on her wall, I know that some day it will confuse her in so many ways regardless of what we do. She'll probably go through a period where she questions her existence, questions why she was adopted and not kept by her biological parents. We'll do our best to help her understand and come to terms with her story - she'll question it and it will confuse her.

But as this guest post says, and confirms for me again, people need to know where they come from and it doesn't mean they question who their mommy is. There's a strong biological pull that can't be denied. As she says, there are people connected to adopted children other than their adoptive families. The need to find the truth in one's self is critical for most people. Not all people - I know some adult adoptees who don't feel the need to know. But most do, and once they do they feel whole and right, and often develop healthy relationships with their birth families. I am happy that we have a semi-open adoption with Bean's birth family. For as confusing as it may be for her some day, she'll have answers to her past. She'll be able to more easily find out her truths, to know where her personality comes from. As the author says, to understand fully who she is.

Am I scared her birth mother will try to be too involved? No, not at all. She's shown incredible grace in leaving us to be a family. I am not worried about that. In countless adoption stories I hear that birth mothers only want the best for their children. They don't want to intrude, it's usually the other way around where the adopted child or adoptive parents ask for more involvement. And it is often too difficult and emotionally painful for birth mothers to be overly involved. I'm not worried about that at all. In my mind, Bean's birth family is part of our extended family now and forever.

Do they have any rights? Legally, no. But emotionally and physically, yes they do in my mind. I may be Bean's mommy and fret over every single little detail of her life. But her birth mother and father worry about her every day too, probably more than I will ever know. They are the people who my daughter is biologically connected to. They may not have legal rights to her, but they have a connection to her and that's stronger than legal ties.

Just writing this is emotional for me, as I'm sure it was and is for the authors of all the guest posts on the Portrait of an Adoption series. My daughter is a strong person. She'll want to know everything. I'm pretty sure that in 30 years from now she'll be writing one of these blog posts. The thought of it all still makes my stomach hurt a little, but the more I talk about it and read about it, the more I have faith that it's all in her best interest. Being educated on reality versus fiction in adoption is really important for everyone involved in it. Check out the Portraits series and follow them on FB if you can. For my daughter's sake.

November is National Adoption Awareness Month

This month is National Adoption Awareness month. In honor of this, here are a few of my favorite adoption-related blogs or websites.

They Grow in Your Heart. One of the first adoption blogs I ever followed. I started reading it when we were waiting. It gave me hope during that time, as they were about two years ahead of us in the process and had already adopted a little girl.  They recently adopted a baby boy so she can't blog as much any more, but it's worth a scroll through the older posts for inspiration.

Portrait of an Adoption, one of my favorites. They're doing a series this month called 30 Adoption Portraits in 30 Days. The first one was today and it brought tears to my eyes with how much I could relate to it, even though the circumstances were different.

The Dave Thomas Foundation for Adoption. Did you know Dave Thomas was adopted? I had heard that on and off over the years but never really knew it until I found his foundation through a coworker. The foundation provides adoption-related education for all sorts of things for adoption and foster care.

Adoptive Families Magazine They have TONS of white papers and articles, and links to resources on this website. The magazine is great too, but the website is full of great info.

Matt and Kara Adopt. A blog written by a pre-adoptive mother, about her journey to parenthood and the ups and downs of the adoption process. Written from the heart.

And for anyone waiting and hoping, here is my little adoption inspiration who I hug every single day. 

A Letter to a Pre-Adoptive Mommy

I stumbled across the blog Matt and Kara Adopt, from the Dear Baby blog that I read almost daily. The latest post is an update on how they are doing in the aftermath of a failed adoption. I immedately read almost every post. I love the blog, and I'm happy to see someone who has opened her heart publicly on the roller coaster of adoption. I had to respond to her most recent post. I relate to it so much. I wish there was something I could do for her, but I remember being in her shoes and nothing really helped. I had to get through it on my own. But still, I had to write and writing it feels good for me too. I'll be healing forever, and forever praying for the baby who wasn't meant to be our.

Hi Kara,

I found a link to your blog on the Dear Baby blog. As I was reading your post and several of the previous ones, I had tears in my eyes for you. I'm an adoptive mom to a two and a half year old daughter, who came to us after a failed adoption and 4 years of infertility/adoption challenges. We had been working with a birth mother for a few months and had a name picked out and all, and she changed her mind a week before her due date. Unfortunately that poor little girl is now a ward of the state and I still pray for her every day. Her life will probably be very hard.

When our adoption failed I did all sorts of things. I cried alot for us and for that little baby who wasn't going to have a mommy at least not for a while. I hugged my family alot, drank A LOT of wine, went to NYC with my husband and we spent a ton of money we didn't have and drank A LOT of wine there and acted like kids. A couple weeks later we took all the baby girl stuff back to Babys-R-Us. This was really tough, so afterwards we went to the beach for a long, long walk. While we were walking we decided that we were done grieving, we had made it through alive and we'll be ok. We’re not overly religious, but somehow on that day we decided we had to have faith in the order of the universe. It was a very profound conversation, I’ll never forget it. We found a tiny shell on the beach. I put it in my pocket and decided that it represented the baby who was meant to be ours, whenever that may happen. The very, very next morning, on St.Patrick's day, we got a call that a baby girl had been born and were we interested. I didn't believe it, thought nothing of it and didn't let my mind even go there after the roller coaster from the last few weeks. But a few days later it became a reality and we packed up and went to meet our baby girl. It was the most surreal experience ever, going from the depths of depression to the height of joy. I kept thinking about the phrase "The darkest time of night is just before the dawn." I kept saying that over and over again as I held her for the first time.

You seem to have a very strong faith, and writing this blog hopefully helps you heal with each difficult post you write. I hope it does, and I hope and pray for you that soon I’ll be reading about the adoption that did work out for you, the baby who was and is meant to be yours. I hope this is your darkest time before your dawn.

Cheers, Laura

I Totally Need This Shirt

Given that we're on the adoption wait list I think I need one of these. And so do all my adoption friends. From Pinterest (original source unknown).

Free Positive Thoughts

Today I'm posting a link to a "Free Positive Thoughts" printable. I need this today as I'm trying to refocus my energy from negative to positive. I came into work today all happy and good, until I opened my work e-mail and found a link to an employee update titled "New Maternity Benefits for Adoptive Parents Added." Why would this create negative energy for me, you ask? Well, because the benefit is being added on September 1st, the VERY DAY that I go on a part-time contracting schedule with my company which excludes me from ANY AND ALL benefits for full-timers, including this newly-added adoption benefit. Not only this, but I've been pushing for this benefit for the last 5 years, basically since I started here and basically since the day that I had the awful realization that I wasn't getting any maternity benefits because I didn't have the pregnancy "disability" that would have made me eligible under the old maternity benefits. A few years ago I talked with my manager and the head of my department about my frustrations with it. They were both supportive and encouraged me to write a letter to HR. I did that, and it was a long and somewhat emotional letter. I provided links to the Dave Thomas Foundation for Adoption, and stats on the impact of an adoption maternity benefit. Last I heard, this type of benefit was being considered for the firm's 5 year plan, but to not keep my hopes up. Evidently they stepped up the plan.
So I'm trying to not be negative here. I have to think of all the positives. I did help make a change, a big change, for adoptive parents at least at my company. Noone else at this company will ever have a day like mine a few years ago when I realized we'd have to self fund my maternity leave. The benefit is very generous and more than covers the normal leave, it also helps pay for the adoption itself. That's good, it's a step in the right direction for the company and more progress towards the goal of adoption becoming a very socially acceptable topic. I'm also the one who wanted to go part time. I knew full well that I'd be excluded from benefits, and I'm not sure I could have waited for the indefinite amount of time before the second adoption just to get the maternity benefit. The next adoption could take months if not years to happen. Would it be worth it to wait that long? To miss potentially another couple of years of my daughter's life? To continue on with the stressful commute five days a week, 55 hours of daycare for Bean, and the miserable Saturday mornings when we're all exhausted and have to spend all day running the errands we couldn't do during the week? No, probably not. Life's too short, who knows what tomorrow may bring.
Ok I'm back. No more negativity. It is what it is. Change has been made in a positive way. I don't get to access it and the coincidence of the date that they are adding the benefit stings a bit after I worked hard to get that thing added, but that's ok. In the long run it's not enough to stew over. In five years it'll be forgotten. And as I've said before, days with Bean can't be bought for any amount of money. So here's the free printable "Positive Thoughts" from here. Cheers.

And PS, definitely visit the Dave Thomas Foundation. If you've never been there, they have an amazing amount of resources for adoptive families and companies who are considering adding adoption-related benefits. I highly recommend visiting the site, and encourage people to talk with your HR or benefits group about adoption benefits. It worked here, all it took was a letter from the heart. 

Blue Eyes

Bean with my mom

My daughter has beautiful blue eyes. Ok, I'm biased and I know this is probably more opinion than fact. But for me the blue of her eyes is meaningful because I'm amazed at how similar her eye color is to mine, my mom's and my maternal gramma's even though she didn't physically come from this bloodline. I've always been amazed by this, and I always find myself thinking of how much her eyes remind me of my Gram's eyes. As an adoptive parent and as part of a big group of adoptive families, I'm constantly amazed at how much our adoptive children resemble us. Maybe not in eye color, hair color, or even skin color. Some in a little more subtle ways like an expression or sense of humor, but a resemblance none the less. There's this whole nature versus nurture debate out there and I'm sure the similarities are due to a little of both. But I don't care so much about that. What I care about is how much it proves to me that there's a plan out there for all of us, and to have faith in it and to submit to it a little even when we don't want to. My daughter's eyes prove to me that we were meant to find each other in this big wide universe and I am forever grateful for that.  There's a connection between us that even I didn't know about until she first opened her eyes as a newborn. It makes me a believer in faith, a believer in fate. If I ever veer down a path where I find myself forgetting my faith, I just have to look at my daughter's blue eyes and I'll remember.

There's A Baby In There?

It happened like this: we were on a small boat with friends on the ocean a couple weeks ago and Bean needed to climb over our pregnant friend to get off the bench she was sitting on. We had to warn her to be careful climbing over our friend and she asked why. I said, “Well, because she has a baby in her tummy.” The look on Bean’s face when I said this was priceless in its innocent, light-bulb clicking on sort of way and she said, “There is? Can I see it?” And from then on she’s been talking non-stop about wanting a baby in her belly. A girl more specifically. This child is so pink (I swear it wasn’t my fault) that she only wants a sister and wants nothing to do with boys who would inherently bring blue (yuck) into the house.

There are so many emotions that this little discovery of hers brings up in my head. As with all parents there’s a feeling of “oh boy, here we go” as “those” questions start to appear. But it’s also very cool to see the light bulbs turning on in her little head. It’s magical really, and I’m always so proud of her curiosity. But as an adoptive mom Bean’s discovery that babies start in tummies brings about a hint of sadness, because it means that “THE” inevitable question is soon to come. The one that every toddler asks, “Mommy, did I grow in your tummy?” This makes me a little sad partly because I wish I didn’t have to tell her that she didn’t grow in mine – eventually this fact of her life will make her sad and while I know we’ll do our best to help her through it, she’ll struggle with it at different points in her life. It also makes me a little sad because she didn’t grow in my tummy and I wish she had, it’s a connection that she and I will never have, that she’ll only ever have with her birthmother.

After her little discovery about babies and tummies my husband and I went back and forth a little on whether we should wait for her to ask “THE” question to tell her all about her adoption story, or to tell her before she even asks. We’ve been reading adoption books to her since she was a newborn so she knows the words, but we’ve never really sat down with her and told her the story or shown her the picture of her birth family – not on purpose, who can really have a talk with a toddler? After talking with each other and our agency about it, we decided to tell her before the question even comes up. That way nothing is ever hidden, she knows her full story from the very beginning before she even asks about it, and we can begin to help her build on her story as she grows up. So we got out the one photo we have of her birth family and I very simply explained it to her. She’s an active toddler so she didn’t stick around for much detail, she just wanted to know who the people were and I told her, matter of factly and simply. I had to hold back the tears at the “Mommy couldn’t have a baby in her belly” part. When she asked why I couldn't have a baby in there I just had to tell her I didn’t know why, it was part of God’s plan and I'm happy for it because it brought us to her. We hung the photo up on her wall together and talked a little more about it before she went back to running around and dressing up as a princess. It was about a 5 minute talk. But I think it worked – later that night when my husband got home she called him over to the photo and proudly told him about it. She said exactly what I had said. “Daddy, mommy couldn’t have a baby in her belly. I was in (her birthmom’s) tummy.” And that was that. Now when she actually does ask “THE” question, I can show her the picture and continue our conversation, which she’ll understand a little more each time we talk about it. Nothing hidden, there’s nothing to hide anyways. I’ll probably always hold back tears when I tell her I couldn’t grow a baby in my tummy. That does still hurt a little. But I feel good that it’s out there and she’s already proud of it. So the other morning in the car when out of nowhere she said “Mommy, I want a girl in my tummy” I just laughed and thought, me too darling, me too.

Scars

I came across this post on a blog through an e-mail from the Resolve infertility network. It really spoke to me. Here’s a blurb from it:   There seems to be a misconception among outsiders that, once you have set on a certain path to motherhood – such as adoption – or once you have a child, you are no longer infertile. You are no longer in pain. That you perhaps you should consider getting over it.

The last time I went to my GYN office, I cried the entire time. This was less than a year ago, so I had already been a mommy for over a year at that point and my infertility battle was way over. But what this author says is so true. The scars from infertility never fully go away. Even if they remain dormant most days, they’re still there and can show up with unexpected triggers. I remember that trip to the doctor’s office. I was perfectly fine that day. It was sunny out, my baby girl had a good morning and I had four or five new pictures of her beautiful face on my cell phone to show the nurse who I had known for a while. All was good. But then when the nurse left the room and I was alone waiting for the doctor, I started noticing everything around me. All the pictures of babies, the charts that show the development of a baby during pregnancy, the anatomy pictures that illustrate how the reproductive system works, and the books full of hundreds of birth control options for married couples who have to try NOT to have another kid. All of a sudden I felt so empty, and the tears came fast. Never having to deal with the body issues that come from giving birth and never dealing with birth control ever again may sound great for some people, and honestly I do consider these minor side benefits to this whole deal. But the fact is that my reproductive system for some reason doesn’t work like everyone else’s. That basic human function is somehow broken, which, before Bean was born, would make me feel like crap almost every day. Like less than human or not part of the human race. I wasn’t expecting the tears that day in the doctor’s office. It had been so long since I felt that pain, because it seemed to have vanished into thin air the day I first help my baby girl in my arms. But I guess it just went dormant, hidden in a secret corner of my mind. The doctor came in a few minutes later to my mascara stained face and red eyes. She comforted me as best as someone who had just had her second baby and who helps hundreds of people have babies could. We talked for a few minutes and the tears and pain went back into their secret hiding place.

Everyone has scars, and a lot of people have worse emotional and physical scars than I ever will. I’m not writing this to complain. For me this is just a recognition of the very constant human condition of pain and healing. At least I know that THAT basic human function in me isn’t broken. That makes me feel like part of the human race again.

Photo of the Day: My Morning Savior

Today's photo of the day is my morning savior, Dunkin Donuts coffee and munchkins. I couldn't sleep last night at all. I haven't posted much lately because I've been using every second of free time to put together our adoption profile book and letters. I'm a bit of a perfectionist with creative things, so putting together the profile book is really difficult for me mostly because I want it to be perfect and I'll probably spend 40 hours on it over the next couple of weeks. I find it so hard to cull through our 4,000 family pictures to find 25-40 of the best ones that most accurately depict who we are as a couple and a family but in a subtle enough way. You have to "sell" yourself just enough but not too much. And with a second one you have to make sure to show that you have room in your life for another child. It is such an awkward thing to have to put together. I guess that's why I'm not in sales. After Emma's adoption I have complete respect for the process and I understand the need for the profile book and letters and in no way want to come across as not wanting to do them. I just can't help but be overwhelmed by the task, and it does bring up a little of the "this ain't the old fashioned way to parenthood" feelings that I used to have. Which is why I can't sleep much these days, and why I LOVE my Dunkin Donuts. But I promise to have a more creative post tomorrow!

Adoption Baby Bump Post on Spearmint Baby

I follow the Spearmint Baby blog daily. I literally am on there several times a day, and I could spend (and have spent) hours linking to different sites from there. One of today's posts gave me goosebumps, Adoptive Baby Bump. I was so happy to see it there. As an adoptive mom, I never got to experience the "baby bump" in the traditional sense and the joys of carrying my little girl in my belly. For four long years I dealt with the pain of longing for a baby, a longing for feeling the little flutter when that baby starts to move in your tummy, and that special glow that pregnant women walk around with. It was so painful that even writing about it makes me tear up. That part of my life is long gone, a distant memory that literally only sparks when I think about it like this. We made it through, and we adopted the most beautiful, perfect baby I've ever seen. She's 2 years old now and continues to wow us every day with her amazing smile and curious, spunky little attitude. During our infertility and adoption wait process, I used to cry any time I'd see anything about pregnancy - pregnant friends, stories in magazines, fertility blogs, etc. If I had followed Spearmint Baby back then, I know I would have cried with each of the Baby Bump posts. It wouldn't have stopped me from following the blog, but it would have been harder. Now that I am a mommy and I'm past that pain, I can read the Baby Bump posts without emotion. Not necessarily happily, as it still reminds me of what I didn't have. But at least without pain. Seeing the Adoption Baby Bump post made my day, my week actually. In about 5 days when we turn in our paperwork for baby #2, I can say I have an Adoption Baby Bump like this post - ok maybe we're still in the First Trimester because we still have to get through the home study and that's probably the adoption equivalent to morning sickness - but at least it feels like we've seen that first ultrasound, we know there will be a baby someday soon and I'm starting to daydream again about baby names and tiny onesies. Maybe our little girl and this baby-to-be didn't grow in my tummy. But they grew in my heart.

http://www.spearmintbaby.com/2011/05/adoption-baby-bump/

Paperwork

Today I am grateful to have a husband who is helping me get through the pile of adoption paperwork that I am totally overwhelmed by. I don't mind writing the 10-page autobiography or the birth mother letters, or putting together the photo albums. But the paperwork exhausts me. This time around is so different. The last time the adoption process was stressful because of the emotional element. I cried with every document because I was bitter that we had to go through all the paperwork to become parents, when everyone else has a few drinks and a late night to get there. This time I'm not bitter. I'm happy and proud to be an adoptive mommy. My weekends and evenings are filled with playing outside, imaginary tea parties, and messy art projects. I'm not sitting around thinking about how much more fun the old fashioned way to parenthood would be, like I was the last time. But that's the hardest part this time. After days full of work, errands, playing, bath time, dishes, laundry and packing daycare bags, who wants to deal with paperwork? It's logistically so much more challenging this time around with our jobs and our active toddler, even if it isn't emotional. And that is why I am grateful for my husband today and all days, and why we work so well together. While I could write forever, he is able to methodically work through the 31 documents and get organized without losing it. We're almost there, just a couple doctors appointments and a few more signatures to go. Thank you to my organized, OC, neat and tidy husband for getting us through this part of the process.