Chatty Tuesday

Photo by Fluid Forms

If time could stand like statues ...

As is the case with anyone you meet on the street, there is more to me than meets the eye. I know. You're thinking: brains, beauty, brawn. [Insert loud, annoying buzzer of shame.]

I am talking about adoption.

18 months ago this week, my husband and I began the process of adopting a little boy from an orphanage overseas. These 18 months have been long and exhausting. [Read that to mean "difficult" and "disappointing."] Never did I realize that the toughest work involves sitting still and waiting.

We've waited, alright. The worst kind of Manhattan traffic has nothing on overseas adoptions.

Birthdays have passed, holidays have flown by, and still we sit and wait. Worse than him growing up without us is us growing older without him.

The tiny room we prepared months ago for his arrival needs dusting--something we never thought would happen before its occupant arrived. I vasilate between wanting to dust it and not wanting to see it while it's empty.

Today--for the first time in months--I can truly say we started to sense movement on our case. Really started to feel it--like a train slowly gaining momentum to move down the track. Tomorrow we should receive information AND pictures. Pictures! How I will want to smooch those photos, and it will hard to explain to the cashier while I hand over my 15-cents-a-print why I--a grown woman--am joyfully kissing cardstock.

I don't even care.

I believe in my heart that I might just be on the eve of motherhood. No. I feel no abdominal contractions (hallelujah!) but I feel them in my heart.

Here's to waiting a little bit longer ...