TD, Part 1

Mommy Brain is this strange thing caused by a combination of factors that include but are not limited to: sleep loss, excessive thinking about things like feeding times and poopy diapers, and showering way too infrequently.  Well, ok, maybe that last part is just something that I experience in my Mommy Brain phases, but still...

This unique blend of factors creates a kind of fuzziness - like a cobweb has completely sheathed your brain.  It's still in there, still has all its parts, still sharp as a tack in theory, but it Just.Can't.Get-the-message-out!

Thankfully, I now know that this condition is temporary.  Eventually, the cobwebs clear and you gradually become reacquainted with more of your brain cells until one day you realize, "Hey!  I just said EXACTLY what I meant to say!!  And it was clear and profound and pretty damn intelligent, if I do say so myself!  Go ME!"  And you realize that you're back.

This is not one of those times, my dear friends.  I am writing to you from the throes of cobweb-land.  I have taken some time off from writing to do things like bond with Timon and celebrate Douglas' 2nd birthday and spend time with family and friends.  But I do want to tell you about our experience these past few weeks, especially the days surrounding Timon's birth.  So, if I inadvertently digress into poop stories, just know that it is indeed inadvertent - and that one day I will stop.  I promise.

I'm just going to write what comes to me and it will DEFINITELY be long, so I'll break it up into different posts so that you don't all a) get that weird thing that affects eyesight from too much computer time or b) go away and never, ever return to this little blog of mine.

I am writing this story for two reasons - first, so that those of you who have been following our journey and those of you who have been praying can know what happened in the end.  Second, I want Timon to have this story in writing...it is part of his story, a big part of it.  For this second reason, I will write anything and everything that comes to mind, even if this means it becomes oober long.

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Monday night, the night before we left for TX for Timon's birth, we got a package in the mail.  It was two t-shirts that I bought for the boys that say "Superman was adopted."  They weren't supposed to arrive for a couple more weeks - I had even looked the day before online and it was still saying they wouldn't come for a while.  I was so thrilled that they arrived, and took it as a positive sign of things to come.  You'll see the shirts in posts to come!

We drove down to TX on Tuesday, August 23rd.  I wore my new Super(woman) shirt because I needed some super hero strength and bravery to get me there.  Two days before, Micah and Douglas had woken me up on Sunday morning with special paper clip necklaces that they made out of very bright paperclips.  We wore them all day that day and the two days following.  To me, they represented our unity as a family, walking knowingly, willingly into this very scary and totally unknown place - but we were together.  We would experience whatever came together, no matter what.

So, Tuesday morning we loaded up the last items into the car and headed for Texas - the little paperclip family.  (No one commented on my strange choice of necklace those few days - not at Target, not at the grocery store - I guess they just kept their judgment to themselves).

I felt anxious and nervous, but most of all, I felt excited.  Hopeful.

   

My sister, Heather, came over with my two nephews, Brendan and Logan, to say goodbye.  Brendan (4) started bawling when she loaded him back into the car to leave.  I went and talked to him, reminding him that we wouldn't be gone long, that this was just like the other trips we've taken in terms of the number of days apart.  I told him this just feels different because it's a really big deal that we're going to TX for Timon's birth.  He's lived next door to us his whole life, and now he's old enough to get that he should be there for this!  This is a really big deal!  Once we talked through the fact that it was the same number of days as our other trip we took recently, and that we would be back really soon with little Timon, he stopped crying and was able to say goodbye.  I love that boy.  I love that he totally got that this was a very big deal.  And I love that it made him sad that we wouldn't be together for it.

Brendan asked to borrow Uncle Micah's paperclip necklace for a few minutes...and, no, we weren't swimming this day - the goggles are just for fun, because why not?!

We had a great trip to Dallas - Douglas did great in the car, playing with toys and reading books.  We listened to lots of good music, drank water with 4 drops of Rescue Remedy in it (love this stuff!!) to calm our nerves, and continued to wait in that silent prayer that was all my body knew to do.  It was a really surreal feeling.

We had a great afternoon and evening at my parents' house.  Micah read and went to bed early, which is what helps him in times of stress.  I watched some mindless tv before going to bed, which is what helps me to deal with stress sometimes - I needed to check out just for a few minutes and take a little break from the constant awareness of "Wow!  This is BIG!"

There were moments that day when fear gripped me all of a sudden.  I sent a huge bag of Timon's stuff down with my mom several weeks before the birth date.  She and my sister-in-law Heather Ann unpacked it all in the guest bedroom, organizing it in a way that would make it easy for us to just bring the little guy home and take care of him.  There was even a yummy smelling candle burning (Banana Loaf or something, but it smelled like Pumpkin, and that's pretty much the very essence of home and comfort in my book).  As I unpacked our other bags, I was suddenly struck wth the thought, "what if we don't get to bring him home?  What if we come home from the hospital without him and have to pack all of these tiny onesies and diapers and bottles and swaddle blankets and moses basket back into the car and drive home?"  There could be no answer to those questions, nothing to make it feel any less terrifying.  Thankfully, though, those moments were few and far between on Tuesday.

That afternoon, I texted Nicole to just say that I was thinking of her and praying for her.  She wrote back and said something along the lines of "please take care of him and keep him safe.  Let him express himself."  I was SO thrilled that she texted back and that she shared with me what she hopes we will do as parents.  I let her know that we are so thrilled and honored to be his parents and that we can't wait to get to know all of who he is and to encourage and support him as he becomes who he wants to be.  She wrote back, thanking me.  She said that she knew this was the right decision and that she was ready.  This "conversation" totally shocked me...I was thrilled and encouraged by it.

We went to bed around 10 Tuesday night, and I was still laying awake at 11 pm when my phone beeped, telling me I had a text message.  It was from Nicole, and she was freaking out.  Without going into too many details, she was understandably getting very anxious the night before the birth, and was using some logistical details to express that anxiety - it of course had nothing to do with the details, but she didn't know how else to express her fear.  She was being very dramatic and freaking out.  We sat up in bed, turned the light on, and talked through every text that we would send back to her, trying to calm her down, to let her know we were sorry she felt that way and that we would work it out - to respond to the real issue instead of the one she was contriving.  I felt like I had been kicked in the pit of my stomach.  It struck me how quickly things can change in adoption and in life.  One second you think everything is going great and the next second it seems as if everything is falling apart.

After a few text messages, things seemed to have stabilized, and we tried to go to sleep.  We didn't even tell my family about this exchange the next morning because we didn't want anyone else to know - we just couldn't handle anyone else's emotions and fears and reactions getting thrown into the pile of crazy emotions that were already our own.  So, we woke up, we ate breakfast, we got ready to leave - hoping for the best.  Hoping that she would actually be there at the hospital that morning and that she would still choose to move forward with the plan.

My dad gathered us all around (my parents, Micah and Douglas and me, and my brother and sister-in-law) and said a prayer as we stood in  circle, arms around each other.  Micah and I had our eyes open the whole time watching sweet Douglas.  My dad was holding him at first and Douglas said "down."  We thought he wanted down so that he wasn't contained and could roam free, but it turns out he wanted down so that he could be a part of this like the rest of us were.  He stood there, still as could be.  He looked up at everyone for a long moment and saw their heads bowed.  I heard him whisper, "down" to himself and he bowed his head like everyone else.  He stood there silent and still until the prayer was over.  It was such a precious, funny moment for Micah and me in the midst of so much uncertainty and unease.

We said our goodbyes and tried again to explain to Douglas in ways that he could maybe understand that we were going to the doctor and would be back in a couple days and that we were bringing Timon home with us.

Notice my sweet Senior Picture in the background - NICE! :)

Driving to Harris Methodist Hospital Southwest in Fort Worth, about 45 minutes away, was as surreal as the rest of this experience has been.  We were quiet.  I said I wanted the windows down - I needed to feel fresh air before being confined in an overly air conditioned, sterile hospital for two days.  I needed to feel the air and hear it in order to calm down.  Never mind that it was TX in August, so "fresh air" really means 90-something degree air at 7:30 am.  We used the A/C with the windows down - very NOT Green, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and you know how I feel about that.

I got a few text messages on our way to the hospital from friends saying they were praying for us and loved us.  I got one from one of my yoga students that said simply this, "If peace is our top priority, God will be within us, and love and joy easily embrace us."  My eyes filled with tears.  Yes, I needed peace.  I needed joy and love to embrace me.

See what I mean?  We're not even to the hospital yet and I've already written this much! :)  There will not be this many details each step of the way (I don't think), but it's the little things that make memories, and I want Timon to have access to all that I can give as he learns his story through the years.